Mark Lawrence's second trilogy is kind of OK, but less gripping than his first. The hero is more purely literary device than was Jorg - one part Flashman, two parts Rincewind, with an occasional zest of Viking berserker. His musings on his own flawed character are, by the third volume, repetitive and tedious. The story itself is well plotted, and if the central character had been a little more complex and rooted, the novel might have worked. There are no female characters worthy of note; the women in this novel are all seen through the red haze of the hero's lust, and react either by bedding him or by breaking his nose. On the whole, this was a rather disappointing follow-up to an excellent debut.