Цитаты из книги Das Lied der Krähen

"What makes you think we can do this? There will be other teams out there, trained soldiers and spies, people with years of experience." "This isn`t a job for trained soldiers and spies. It`s a job for thugs and thieves. Van Eck knows it, and that`s why he brought us in." "You can`t spend his money if you`re dead." "I`ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife." "There`s a difference between confidence and arrogance." He`d turned his back on her then, giving each of his gloves a sharp tug. "And when I want a sermon on that, I know who to come to. If you want out, just say so."

"Why do you wear the gloves, Mister Brekker?" Kaz raised a brow. "I`m sure you`ve heard the stories." "Each more grotesque than the last." Kaz had heard them, too. Brekker`s hands were stained with blood. Brekker`s hands were covered in scars. Brekker had claws and not fingers because he was part demon. Brekker`s touch burned like brimstone -- a single brush of his bare skin caused your flesh to wither and die. "Pick one," Kaz said as he vanished into the night, thoughts already turning to thirty million kruge and the crew he`d need to help him get it. "They`re all true enough."

"Go on, give those guns over," Dirix said to Jesper. With a great sigh, Jesper removed the gunbelts at his hips. She had to admit he looked less himself without them. The Zemeni sharpshooter was long-limbed, brown-skinned, constantly in motion. He pressed his lips to the pearl handles of his prized revolvers, bestowing each with a mournful kiss. "Take good care of my babies," Jesper said as he handed them over to Dirix. "If I see a single scratch or nick on those, I`ll spell forgive me on your chest with bullet holes." "You won`t waste the ammo." "And he`d be dead halfway through forgive," Bill Bolliger said as he dropped a hatchet, a switchblade, and his preferred weapon -- a thick chain weighted with a heavy padlock -- into Rotty`s expectant hands. Jesper rolled his eyes. "It`s about sending a message. What`s the point of a dead guy with forg written on his chest?" "Compromise," Kaz said. "I`m sorry does the trick and uses fewer bullets." Dirix laughed, but Inej noted that he cradled Jesper`s revolvers very gently.

Kaz Brekker didn`t need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of Ketterdam, in the taverns and coffeehouses, in the dark and bleeding alleys of the pleasure district known as the Barrel. The boy they called Dirtyhands didn`t need a reason any more than he needed permission -- to break a leg, sever an alliance, or change a man`s fortunes with the turn of a card. Of course they were wrong, Inej considered as she crossed the bridge over the black waters of the Beurscanal to the deserted main square that fronted the Exchange. Every act of violence was deliberate, and every favour came with enough strings attached to stage a puppet show. Kaz always had his reasons. Inej could just never be sure they were good ones. Especially tonight.