The Blade Itself

Inquisitor Glokta is the quintessential antihero. His complete emotional detachment while torturing his victims is designed to be deeply disturbing, and there is little to recommend him or generate sympathy for his character. However, his own victimhood as a tortured prisoner in the Emperor’s dungeons combines with his dark, self-deprecating sense of humor to endow him with enough sympathy to allow readers to at least understand his primary motivations as a character. His daily battles with the chronic pain that resulted from his own imprisonment and torture, coupled with his subservience to the sadistic bureaucrat, Arch Lector Sult, make him a dynamic character rather than a run-of-the-mill, cartoonish villain. He stands as the embodiment of generational trauma and dedicates his career to passing his own trauma on to others. Furthermore, his former status as skilled swordsman, Contest winner, and romantic leading man shows Glokta to be a man resigned to his terrible fall from grace, although that fall has certainly given him a cruel streak. His hatred of Jezal stems from the recognition that the dashing young captain is everything he once was but will never be again.

Ultimately, Glokta is clever, but he is far from the most politically shrewd actor in the story. He is often amazed at Sult’s machinations and is fully aware that he cannot turn his back on the Arch Lector for a second lest he become another one of his disposable victims. Glokta’s cynical side is also evident in his dealings with Bayaz. Despite the Magus’s impressive displays of power, the Inquisitor refuses to believe that he is the Bayaz, the First of the Magi, at least until Bayaz opens the House of the Maker and calmly walks through a dark vault, impervious to the suffocating fear that cripples the rest of his company. Glokta, who has been left with a physical disability  and in constant pain, has a death wish, although not enough to be willing to take his own life. He often dwells wistfully on the prospect of his own demise, imagining being killed by an assassin or picturing his body floating in a river. It seems clear, though, that his wishes for an imminent death are premature. As a character, Glokta has enough narrative weight on his shoulders to remain in the narrative for several more installments.

Without his self-centered qualities, Jezal might otherwise serve as the classic fantasy hero: young, handsome, and gifted with a sword, but his narcissism and judgment of anyone with “lesser” blood make him a work in progress at best. Born of a noble family with a military appointment as a result, Jezal demonstrates preternatural skill with a sword but lacks the dedication to apply himself to the necessary training. He sees himself as a victim of the needlessly harsh Lord Marshall Varuz, his trainer (who, in truth, is a bit of a tyrant). When the narrative opens, Jezal is a drinking, gambling lothario, content to rest on his family’s good name and idly dream of fame and fortune. Anything that interferes with the hedonistic lifestyle to which he feels utterly entitled is a bother and an inconvenience.

Abercrombie introduces Jezal as a man ripe for maturation, and the author provides a first glimpse of this process in his fraught interactions with Ardee. She challenges him and calls him out for who he really is, and although her honesty angers him, it provides him with the needed incentive to grow up a little, and to quit drinking and train harder (even if his only motivation is to prove her wrong). Jezal’s maturation is far from complete, for although he admits to being in love with Ardee—a striking admission from one for whom love has always been a silly, romantic notion—he still sees himself as being superior to the rest of Bayaz’s company by virtue of his birth. In his mind, the others are “dirty” or “savage.” If Jezal is to become the hero he seems destined to be, the trials of his journey will likely test his emotional maturity as much as his fighting skills.

Wizardry is a standard trope in fantasy narratives, and Abercrombie complies while giving the well-worn narrative patterns his own wry twist. Bayaz is no Gandalf or Dumbledore, and he does not sport the dignified appearance of a tall, robed old man with long hair and beard. In fact, when Logen first sees the Magus, he walks right past him, assuming him to be a simple tradesperson. In this way, Abercrombie plays with the archetypal appearance of the wizard by making his own version short, stout, and bald. When it comes to wielding magical power, however, Bayaz is every bit the archetypal wizard. He overcomes Bethod’s son, his sorceress, and a cadre of his soldiers with his magic, and although these exertions tire him, he more than earns his title of the First of the Magi.

Like other iconic wizards in the fantasy genre, he too remains enigmatic to his hapless followers, keeping his plans to himself and expecting others to trust him blindly. Logen, having lost his friends and his homeland, accompanies Bayaz in large part because he has no other place to go, and  Ferro does the same, although she is more resistant to the idea. Bayaz therefore uses psychological manipulation rather than magic to win her over. None of his company knows anything about the true purpose of their quest other than Bayaz’s claim that it is to be a “grand adventure.”

Bayaz has a long and complicated history, only a portion of which is revealed in this first volume. As a disciple of Juvens, the Master of the Art, Bayaz avenges his mentor’s murder by casting Kanedias down from his own tower. The act cements Bayaz’s legacy as First of the Magi; a statue commemorating him even sits in the public square in Adua. Bayaz’s history, his grace under pressure, and his age (indeterminate, but certainly longer than the average mortal) gives him the requisite mystique for a character of his importance.

Jezal’s friend and training partner, Major Collem West, is significant for his rise to elevated professional status. Born of “common” blood, West attains his rank through sheer hard work and perseverance. He is a testament to the value of the work ethic. When Jezal complains about Varuz’s punishing training regimen, West replies, “This is nothing…He wasn’t half so friendly with me” (60). West, also a Contest winner in his day, has had to work twice as hard to overcome his lowly birth status. It has given him an appreciation of dedication and hard labor, a sentiment that he tries to instill in Jezal, although his lessons mostly fall on deaf ears.

West is a career soldier. His tactical knowledge and understanding of the Northern lands—his birthplace—make him the ideal candidate for promotion to Lord Marshall Burr’s staff, an unlikely position for a commoner. Despite his rise in the ranks, however, West never forgets his humble beginnings. He has far more sympathy for the plight of the poor than Jezal or other nobles, even giving his entire purse to a farmer on the brink of destitution. He is also fiercely protective of his sister, Ardee. He sees it as his duty to keep her safe from the immoral influence of the big city, most notably, the misogynistic Jezal. He expects Ardee to respect his authority, but she isn’t one of his soldiers and resents his interference. West is by most measures an honorable man, but Ardee’s independence chafes against his obligation to protect her virtue, and their argument escalates into violence. West hits her, leaving her bruised but defiant, an act of aggression he feels terrible remorse about. West is a good example of Abercrombie’s multi-dimensional characters, depicting a man whom readers want to root for while also displaying hints of behavior unbecoming to a truly heroic persona. Such complications, however, serve to make the character more nuanced than the straightforward stock characters to which the fantasy genre is often prone.

Logen’s comrades—Threetrees, Dogman, Black Dow, Tul Duru, Grim, and Forley—are the last remaining Northern barbarians not to bow to Bethod. As such, they are isolated, hunted, and always on the run. Each man displays distinctly character traits. Black Dow has the vicious temper, Tul is the physical behemoth, and Forley the metaphorical runt of the litter. As a cohort, they personify the wild North, the clan lifestyle from which Logen emerged and whose code of honor they all abide by. They are protective of their own (including Forley), and they are fierce and courageous in battle with a strict moral sensibility. When they find a group of farmers hanging from a tree—children included—they set out to avenge their deaths even though they don’t know these people and have no idea what kind of enemy they’re up against. For them, it is a simple matter of righting a wrong. Intergroup fights are common—jostling for leadership position, arguing over the next course of action—but when their lives are on the line, they cooperate. They follow a roughly democratic political structure within their small unit, and they honor it. Despite Black Dow’s insistence that he is the most capable leader, when he is voted down in place of Threetrees, the argument ends, and he toes the line. To a man, they recognize the importance of leadership to their survival, and Threetrees proves a competent replacement for Logen. While these Named Men are too few to mount a credible challenge to Bethod’s army, they are still a guerilla force to be reckoned with. Should they decide to use these hit-and-run tactics, they are formidable enough to make their presence known.

The head of the Inquisitor’s Office—and Glokta’s superior—Sult is a polished bureaucrat, pristine in his white robes and coiffed hair. Far from being a mere paper pusher, Sult exhibits a keen understanding of Union politics. When he learns of the death of the Mercers on Rews’s list, for example, he immediately understands what is happening. His own deviousness allows him to see the deviousness in others, and he knows the Mercers are silencing witnesses because that is precisely what he would do in a similar situation. Sult shows no loyalty to anyone but himself. In fact, he is the source of the leak of Rews’s list, for he knows that the guild would scramble to get rid of their own members in order to keep their secrets. Even Glokta, his most trustworthy Inquisitor, exists only to serve his greater purpose. He promotes Glokta to Inquisitor Exempt not as a reward for a job well done, but merely to give him the needed authority to fulfill Sult’s master plan. Sult sees the world as a chessboard, and Glokta is merely one of the pieces to be moved around—or sacrificed, if necessary—in order to win the game. At the end, he sends Glokta into the heart of dangerous territory (Dagoska) to act as his eyes and ears, fully aware that the previous Superior has disappeared. Should the same fate befall Glokta, it’s doubtful that Sult would shed a tear. He would merely send his next pawn into harm’s way.

Collem West’s younger sister, Ardee, who visiting from the barren North, is conflicted. On one hand, she is excited by the hustle and bustle of Adua and the diversity of its people and culture, but on the other hand, her brother has her on a tight leash and monitors her every move. This dynamic stifles her cultural and sexual yearning. She bristles against the gender norms of society (or at least her brother’s own personal Puritanical code), and her flirtations with Jezal are nothing more than a way to defy Collem and assert her independence. She doesn’t even like Jezal very much, but he is a convenient test subject to use as she explores both her sexuality and her autonomy. She is the quintessential restless youth, eager to experience the wider world only to be locked behind a door of patriarchal morality. She still resents her brother for leaving her behind to endure the ravages of her father’s abuse, and when Collem strikes her, it’s a vivid reminder that this is not a world that tolerates independent women. Still, Ardee is nothing if not proud, and her open contempt for Jezal while still seducing him is her coping strategy, her way of defying the social norms of the day even if she must endure her brother’s abuse because of it.

After escaping a life of enslavement in the Gurkish Empire, Ferro wanders the desert, evading capture and exacting revenge against Gurkish troops whenever she can. She is dark-skinned with spiky hair and a long scar running down her face. Ferro is a skilled warrior with almost limitless endurance. When she and Logen flee Goyle’s Practicals, Logen is spent, but Ferro seems barely winded. She also has preternatural recuperative powers. After the attack by the Eaters, Yulwei reports, “In a week she was healed. She shows not a scratch from it. That is not normal” (448). Ferro is motivated by vengeance against her former enslavers, to the exclusion of all else. She is obsessed by this goal and would rather prowl the desert in search of Gurkish soldiers than accompany Bayaz on a mission that will have a far greater strategic impact on the war. She is deeply distrustful of others, trusting only in herself and her survival skills. She despises Adua for its luxury and comfort, seeing it as just another prison. She only accompanies Yulwei to Adua because he proves to be an effective way to circumvent enemy troops; and even then, she tries to run away numerous times. Ferro has been so traumatized that she cannot rely on anyone’s help lest they betray her. She is rage incarnate, ready to lash out at anyone or anything because it is her default response: the only way she knows how to survive.

Yulwei, the Fourth of the Magi, appears to Ferro in the desert as she buries her dead comrades. He has a gift for stealth, for appearing and disappearing unseen. He is dark-skinned with long “grey ropes” for hair and wears many gold bangles around his arms. Like Bayaz, he can summon destructive power when he needs to—he destroys the Eaters who nearly kill Ferro—but he also preaches caution. When Bayaz dabbles in the dark arts, Yulwei confronts him, warning him of his pride, saying, “You are first, Bayaz, but you are not Juvens” (452). He claims that, although he will remain loyal to Bayaz (one of the only Magi to do so), he reserves the right to question Bayaz’s actions. While Bayaz is of the end-justifies-the-means rationale, Yulwei takes the longer view, arguing that there are worse things than “Khalul,” and that Bayaz’s schemes may cause more harm than good. Yulwei’s presence in the first installment is modest, and much of his character must be inferred based on his dealings with Ferro and Bayaz, but he also represents a richer history yet to be explored: a history of the mysterious order of the Magi and their role in the wider affairs of the world.