46 pages • 1 hour read
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“I’ve got kids that enjoy stealing. I’ve got kids that don’t think about stealing one way or another, and I’ve got kids that just tolerate stealing because they know they’ve got nothing else to do. But nobody—and I mean nobody—has ever been hungry for it like this boy. If he had a bloody gash across his throat and a physiker was trying to sew it up, Lamora would steal the needle and thread and die laughing. He…steals too much.”
The Thiefmaker’s thesis statement on Locke Lamora, at approximately age six, is the first character sketch of Locke, and it sets up important points of character and worldbuilding that will follow the narrative. Camorr is a place of desperation and crime, and children participate in it because they must. Life for most Camorri is also violent and gory; the way people cope is through gallows humor. The Thiefmaker’s elaborate, exuberantly snappy banter sets the tone for the rest of the novel. It is also revealed that even at this early stage, Locke makes hubristic choices and puts himself at fatal risk to pull off bigger schemes. Locke’s desire to steal, and the mystery of why, drive the ensuing plot.
“‘My name,’ said Locke Lamora, ‘is Lukas Fehrwight.’ The voice was clipped and precise, scrubbed of Locke’s natural inflections. He layered the hint of a harsh Vadran accent atop a slight mangling of his native Camorri dialect like a barkeep mixing liquors. ‘I am wearing clothes that will be full of sweat in several minutes. I am dumb enough to walk around Camorr without a blade of any sword. Also,’ he said with a hint of ponderous regret, ‘I am entirely fictional.’”
Locke demonstrates his skill at and delight in grifting. He doesn’t disguise himself as Fehrwight because he must but because he thoroughly enjoys it. Stealing and grifting are things Locke needs to do to feel like himself and to be happy.
“[T]he shark came up biting and must have taken [Cicilia] by one or both legs. [...] In moments the ink foam was dark red once more, and the two struggling shadows were sinking into the depths. [...] ‘Gods!’ Doña Sofia stared at the spreading stain on the water; the surviving fighters stood with their heads lowered, and the priests were gesturing some sort of mutual blessing. ‘Unbelievable! Taken in so fast, by such a simple trick.’”
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