Total licks 455
Total gumss licked 35
Total words 622166
Gums licked per word 5.62550830486e-05

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The Blade Itself - Joe Abercrombie.txt

incites to deeds of violence.’ homer the survivors the lapping of water in his ears. that was the first thing. the lapping of water, the rustling of trees, the odd click and twitter of a bird. logen opened his eyes a crack. light, blurry bright through leaves. this was death? then why did it hurt so much? his whole left side

cast slow flowing shadows into every corner. why would anyone want to do this? glokta’s walking made a steady rhythm on the grimy tiles of the floor. first the confident click of his right heel, then the tap of his cane, then the endless sliding of his left foot, with the familiar stabbing pains in the ankle, knee, arse and back.

of his right heel, then the tap of his cane, then the endless sliding of his left foot, with the familiar stabbing pains in the ankle, knee, arse and back. click, tap, pain. that was the rhythm of his walking. the dirty monotony of the corridor was broken from time to time by a heavy door, bound and studded with pitted

a searing spasm up his left side from foot to jaw. he squeezed his watering eyes tight shut, clamped his right hand over his mouth so hard that the knuckles clicked. his remaining teeth grated against each other as he locked his jaws together, but a high-pitched, jagged moan still whistled from him. am i screaming or laughing? how do i

with the effort of staying upright. the spasm passed. glokta moved his limbs cautiously, one by one, testing the damage. his leg was on fire, his foot numb, his neck clicked with every movement, sending vicious little stings down his spine. pretty good, considering. he bent down with an effort and snatched up his cane between two fingers, drew himself up

conspired to avoid the king’s taxes.’ rews’ mouth was hanging open. ‘the king’s taxes!’ screamed glokta, smashing his hand down on the table. the fat man stared, wide eyed, and licked at a tooth. upper right side, second from the back. ‘but where are our manners?’ asked glokta of no one in particular. ‘we may or may not have known each

old quarter, the small unregistered boats, the payments to officials, the forged documentation. must i go on?’ asked glokta, shaking his head in profound disapproval. the fat man swallowed and licked his lips. pen and ink were placed before the prisoner, and the paper of confession, filled out in detail in frost’s beautiful, careful script, awaiting only the signature. i’ll get

is still pleasure to be had from life there, and the satisfaction of a day of honest work, in the service of your king. confess!’ rews stared at the floor, licking at his tooth. glokta sat back and sighed. ‘or not,’ he said, ‘and i can come back with my instruments.’ frost moved forward, his massive shadow falling across the fat

wailed rews over his shoulder. ‘wait i—’ practical frost clamped a gloved hand over the fat man’s mouth and held a finger to his mask. ‘thhhhhhh,’ he said. the door clicked shut. severard was leaning against the wall in the corridor, one foot propped on the plaster behind him, whistling tunelessly beneath his mask and running a hand through his long,

practical smiled with his eyes and sheathed his vicious-looking knife. glokta rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, then limped off, his cane tapping on the tiles, his leg throbbing. click, tap, pain. that was the rhythm of his walking. the superior’s office was a large and richly appointed room high up in the house of questions, a room in which

of some were horribly obvious, the functions of others were horribly obscure. which scare him more, i wonder? ‘we were talking about your tooth, i think,’ murmured glokta. rews’ eye flicked up to look at him. ‘or would you like to confess?’ i have him, here he comes. confess, confess, confess, confess . . . there was a sharp knock at

confess, confess, confess, confess . . . there was a sharp knock at the door. damn it again! frost opened it a crack and there was a brief whispering. rews licked at his bloated lip. the door shut, the albino leaned to whisper in glokta’s ear. ‘ith the arth ector.’ glokta froze. the money was not enough. while i was shuffling

‘but i never met the man.’ ‘so?’ snapped glokta. ‘do as i tell you.’ rews paused, mouth a little open. ‘write, you fat pig.’ practical frost cracked his knuckles. rews licked his lips. ‘sepp . . . dan . . . teufel,’ he mumbled to himself as he wrote. ‘excellent.’ glokta carefully shut the lid on his horrible, beautiful instruments. ‘i’m

jezal could’ve bullied him out of half his pay. jalenhorm drained his glass and reached for the bottle. that just left brint, the youngest and poorest of the group. he licked his lips with an expression at once careful and slightly desperate, an expression which seemed to say, ‘i am not young or poor. i can afford to lose this money.

brint’s face was a picture. west gave a sigh and shook his head. jalenhorm frowned. ‘i was sure he was bluffing,’ he said. ‘how does he do it?’ asked kaspa, flicking a stray coin across the table. jezal shrugged. ‘it’s all about the players, and nothing about the cards.’ he began to scoop up the heap of silver while brint looked

fingers, his wrist, his forearm, his shoulder, were burning with the effort. he was soaked to the skin with sweat; it flew from his face in big drops. marshal varuz flicked his feeble efforts away. ‘now, cut! cut with the left!’ jezal swung the big smith’s hammer at the old man’s head with all the strength in his left arm. he

crusted with mud, pulled out his own sword. the pale monster stared at them unblinking, not retreating a finger’s breadth. ‘major west!’ came the voice again, accompanied now by a clicking, scraping sound. west’s face had turned pale. a figure emerged from the shadows, limping badly, cane tapping on the dirt. his broad-brimmed hat obscured the upper part of his face,

exertion. blood was dripping onto the tiles with a steady tap, tap, tap. teufel was staring wide-eyed at his shortened fingers. severard shook his head. ‘that’s excellent work, inquisitor.’ he flicked one of the discs of flesh across the table. ‘the precision . . . i’m in awe.’ ‘aaaargh!’ screamed the master of the mints. now it dawns on him. glokta

staff?’ the young man looked surprised. ‘i don’t . . . that is to say . . . er . . . i’m not a magus.’ he trailed off and licked his lips nervously. ‘the spirits told me to expect a magus, but they’re often wrong.’ ‘oh . . . well, i’m an apprentice. but my master, the great bayaz,’ and

out to the meagre flames. ‘i haven’t eaten for two days.’ he shook his head, hair flapping back and forth. ‘it has been . . . a difficult time.’ he licked his lips and looked at the pot. logen passed him the spoon. malacus quai stared at it with big round eyes. ‘have you eaten?’ logen nodded. he hadn’t, but the

one. he took another swig from the flask. that would do for him, for now. quai attacked the stew with relish. when it was done he scraped the pot out, licked the spoon, then licked the edge of the pot for good measure. he sat back against a big rock. ‘i am forever in your debt, logen ninefingers, you’ve saved my

swig from the flask. that would do for him, for now. quai attacked the stew with relish. when it was done he scraped the pot out, licked the spoon, then licked the edge of the pot for good measure. he sat back against a big rock. ‘i am forever in your debt, logen ninefingers, you’ve saved my life. i hardly dared

you’ve saved my life. i hardly dared hope you’d be so gracious a host.’ ‘you’re not quite what i expected either, being honest.’ logen pulled at the flask again, and licked his lips. ‘who is this bayaz?’ ‘the first of the magi, great in high art and learned in deep wisdom. i fear he will be most seriously displeased with me.’

he was amazed to feel himself blushing like a little girl, and he coughed and looked down at his shoes. west rolled his eyes. ‘mercy,’ he said, as the door clicked shut. ‘would you care for a drink?’ ardee asked, already pouring wine into a glass. alone with a beautiful young woman. hardly a new experience, jezal told himself, and yet

that’s better,’ she said, though the dabbing had made no apparent difference. not to his uniform anyway. she took the glasses from him, drained her own quickly with a practised flick of her head and shoved them on the table. ‘shall we go?’ ‘yes . . . of course. oh,’ and he offered her his arm. she led him out into

gently out of the way. to his great dismay she refused to be moved. the horse flashed past within a few inches of her, close enough for the wind to flick her hair in jezal’s face. she turned to him with a flush of excitement on her cheek, otherwise utterly undaunted by her brush with severe injury. ‘a knight herald?’ she

jezal felt more uncomfortable than ever. ‘thank you for asking. truly. nobody ever does.’ there was an awkward silence. the inquisitor stretched his neck sideways and there was a loud click. ‘ah!’ he said, ‘that’s got it. it’s been a pleasure to see you again, both of you, but duty calls.’ he treated them to another revolting smile then hobbled off,

from his punctured throat. the crowd roared their appreciation and glokta indulged them with a deep, graceful bow. the cheering was redoubled. ‘oh, colonel, you shouldn’t,’ murmured ardee as glokta licked the blood from her cheek. ‘shouldn’t what?’ he growled, tipping her back in his arms and kissing her fiercely. the crowd were in a frenzy. she gasped as he broke

them, and his left side was turning numb. ardee touched him tenderly on the cheek. ‘the arth ector!’ she shouted. there was a heavy knock at the door. glokta’s eyes flicked open. where am i? who am i? oh no. oh yes. he realised straight away he had been sleeping badly, his body was twisted round under the blankets, his face

the arch lector wants me again, does he?’ the albino nodded. ‘and what might our illustrious leader desire with the likes of us, do you think?’ a shrug. ‘hmmm.’ glokta licked bits of porridge out of his empty gums. ‘does he seem in a good mood, do you know?’ another shrug. ‘come, come, practical frost, don’t tell me everything at once,

men in the land. they’ve all been known to suck at that tit, one time or another, and babies will cry when their milk is snatched away.’ a cruel grin flickered across sult’s face. ‘but still, if children are to learn discipline, they must sometimes be made to weep . . . who did that worm rews name in his confession?’

logen looked off along the beach at the dripping trees. ‘how far is it?’ no answer. he took hold of the sick man’s bony shoulder and shook it. quai’s eyelids flickered open, he stared up blearily, trying to focus. ‘how far?’ ‘forty miles.’ logen sucked his teeth. quai wouldn’t be walking forty miles. he’d be lucky to make forty strides on

broad accent, ‘from—’ hoff cut him off with consummate rudeness. ‘and you come before us seeking an audience with his august majesty, the high king of the union?’ goodman heath licked his lips. west wondered how far he had come to be made a fool of. a very long way, most likely. ‘my family have been put off our land. the

and the feeling of unease returned. ‘oh no,’ said white-eye, ‘i am here merely as translator. this is the emissary of the king of the northmen,’ and his good eye flicked nervously up to the dark figure in the cloak, as though even he was afraid. ‘fenris.’ he stretched out the ‘s’ on the end of the name so that it

be the wrong place to discuss this matter.’ ‘i agree. i was hoping for a private audience with lord chancellor feekt.’ ‘i am afraid that will not be possible.’ hoff licked his lips. ‘lord feekt is dead.’ sulfur frowned. ‘that is most unfortunate.’ ‘indeed, indeed. we all feel his loss most keenly. perhaps i and certain other members of the closed

wood, his eyes squinting with concentration, gloved hands moving deftly. glokta’s heart was beating fast, his skin prickly with tension. ah, the thrill of the hunt. there was a soft click, then another. severard slipped his glittering picks into a pocket, then reached out and slowly, carefully turned the doorknob. the door swung silently open. what a useful fellow he is.

little housekeeping.’ ‘how could they know?’ muttered severard. how indeed? ‘they must have seen rews’ list, or been told who was on it.’ and that means . . . glokta licked at his empty gums. ‘someone inside the inquisition has been talking.’ for once, severard’s eyes were not smiling. ‘if they know who’s on the list, they know who wrote it.

shape against the blue sky. glokta thought he looked a little more tired, more lined, more drawn than usual as he stared coldly down. ‘this had better be interesting.’ sult flicked out the tails of his long white coat and lowered himself gracefully onto the bench. ‘the commoners are up in arms again near keln. some idiot of a landowner hangs

wrote there’s no pain worse than the pain of a broken heart? sentimental shit. he should have spent more time in the emperor’s prisons. he smiled, opening his mouth and licking the empty gums where his front teeth used to be. broken hearts heal with time, but broken teeth never do. glokta looked at the young man. he had an expression

to give the impression of his heart being in. four hours of training a day were taking their toll on him, and he felt beyond mere exhaustion. varuz frowned and flicked jezal’s blunted steel aside, moving effortlessly along the beam as though it was a garden path. ‘and back!’ jezal stumbled back on his heels, left arm waving stupidly around him

he were giving the eulogy at a funeral, ‘of the open council of the union . . .’ he gave an unnecessarily long and significant pause. the lord chamberlain’s eyes flicked angrily towards him, but the announcer was not to be robbed of his moment of glory. he made everyone wait an instant longer before finishing, ‘. . . to order!’

his shoulders by the weight of the great, sparkling crown. his eyes were glassy and bulging, with huge dark bags hanging beneath, and the pink point of his tongue kept flicking nervously over his pale lips. he had great low jowls and a roll of fat around his neck, in fact his whole face gave the appearance of having slightly melted

to him, or even to those around the high table. angry laughs turned to shocked gurgles as the painted monster turned slowly around in the centre of the circular floor, flickering eyes running over the crowd. meed shrank back onto his bench, anger all leached out of him. a couple of worthies on the front row actually scrambled over the backs

steps, around corners, past doors, taking here or there a turning to the left or right. the place was a warren. logen hoped he didn’t lose sight of the wizard’s flickering torch, or he could easily be stuck beneath the library for ever. ‘dry down here, nice and dry,’ bayaz was saying to himself, voice echoing down the passageway and merging

floor littered with boxes and stands, everything heaped and bursting with a mad array of arms and armour. blades and spikes and polished surfaces of wood and metal caught the flickering torchlight as bayaz paced slowly across the stone floor, weaving between the weapons and casting around. ‘quite a collection,’ muttered logen, as he followed the magus through the clutter. ‘a

covered with lines of neat, but unintelligible symbols. ‘i wrote these, long ago. you should read it too.’ ‘i’m really not much of a reader.’ ‘no?’ asked bayaz. ‘shame.’ he flicked over the page and carried on. ‘what about that one?’ there was another book, sat alone on its side on the very top of one of the shelves, a large,

does he have with him?’ logen peered at the three figures in the courtyard. ‘scale,’ he said with a scowl. ‘and a woman. i don’t recognise her. they’re dismounting.’ logen licked his dry lips. ‘they’re coming in.’ ‘yes, yes,’ murmured bayaz, ‘that is how one gets to a meeting. try to calm yourself, my friend. breathe.’ logen leaned back against the

damn foolish, how he never learned to stop hoping. ‘good,’ murmured the king of the northmen. ‘i knew you would see my way of thinking, in the end.’ he slowly licked his lips, like a hungry man watching good food brought in. ‘i mean to invade angland.’ bayaz raised an eyebrow, then he started to chuckle, then he thumped the table

have known, but for my art. what have you given me in return, eh? this lake and this valley, which were mine already, and but one other thing.’ bethod’s eyes flicked across to logen, then back. ‘you owe me still, yet you send messengers to me, you make demands, you presume to command me? that is not my idea of manners.’

were sagging from the walls, covered in mould and flaking gilt paint. severard moved over to one, still attached, and pushed it firmly at one side. there was a soft click as it swung open, revealing a dark archway beyond. a hidden door? how delightful. how sinister. how very appropriate. ‘this place is as full of surprises as you are,’ said

hulking practical shrugged, and glokta shook his head. ‘sometimes i worry about you, practical frost, i really do.’ ‘he’s down here,’ said severard, ambling off down the hall, heels making clicking echoes on the stone flags of the floor. this must once have been a wine cellar: there were several barrel-vaulted chambers leading off to either side, sealed with heavy gratings.

things, well-used, but still highly serviceable. a pair of long-handled tongs particularly caught his eye. he glanced up at severard. ‘teeth?’ ‘seemed a good place to start.’ ‘fair enough.’ glokta licked at his own empty gums then cracked his knuckles, one by one. ‘teeth, it is.’ as soon as the gag was off the assassin started screaming at them in styrian,

‘we’re just off the middleway, down near the water.’ glokta winced as the muscles in his leg suddenly convulsed. he stretched it out cautiously, waiting until he heard the knee click before he carried on. ‘you know, the middleway is one of the very arteries of the city, it runs straight through its heart, from the agriont to the sea. it

more ’n an hour before. still, you won’t be killed for checking ’em, while you might be for not doing it. there was the hissing of steel on leather, the clicking of wood and the clanking of metal. dogman watched grim twang at his bowstring, check over the feathers on his shafts. he watched tul duru run his thumb down the

months’ hard work, then you would probably never need to try at anything again in your life, if that’s what you want. a few short months, and you’re set.’ glokta licked at his empty gums. ‘barring accidents of course. it’s a great chance you’ve been offered. i’d take it, if i was you, but i don’t know. maybe you’re a fool

a mercer. we caught him dodging the king’s taxes. he made a confession, named a few people. i wanted to talk to them, but they all died.’ the merchant’s eyes flickered left and right. thinking about his options, trying to guess what we might know. ‘people die all the time.’ glokta stared at the painted corpse of juvens behind his prisoner,

and hope our horses are the faster.’ ‘and this one?’ asked bayaz. the wind blew keenly through the hollow in spite of the trees, making the flames of the campfire flicker and dance. malacus quai hunched his shoulders and drew his blanket tight around them. he peered at the short stem that bayaz was holding up to him, forehead crinkled with

collected the dirty bowls and shuffled off through the brush towards the stream. bayaz bent over the pot on the fire, adding some dried-up leaves to the bubbling water. the flickering light of the flames caught the underside of his face, the steam curled around his bald head. all in all, he looked quite the part. ‘what is that?’ asked logen,

tired. ‘yawl’s dead, as though you didn’t know. most of ’em are. bethod doesn’t suit me much at all as a master, and nor do his sons. no man likes licking scale’s fat arse, or calder’s skinny one, you should know that. now give up the sword, the day’s wasting and we’ve ground to cover. we can talk just as well

you dig as deep as you can be bothered, you dump them in, you cover them up, they rot away and are forgotten. that’s the way it’s always been. she flicked her shoulder and sent a shovelful of sandy soil flying. her eyes followed the grains of dirt and little stones as they broke apart in the air, then fell across

neck. a rare treat out here in the badlands, to let water fall. shining drops spattered onto the dry earth, turning it dark. she splashed some more on her face, licked her lips, and looked over at the soldier. ‘mercy . . .’ he croaked, one hand clasped to his chest where the arrow was sticking out of it, the other

way towards the high table. their heads were shaved bare and they were dressed in brown sackcloth. the clothing of the penitent. confessed traitors. the first of the prisoners was licking his lips, eyes darting here and there, pale with terror. the second, shorter and thicker-set, was stumbling, dragging his left leg behind him, hunched over with his mouth hanging open.

unmoved by the importance of the occasion. ‘rise and face the open council,’ he said, turning to the first of his prisoners. the terrified man sprang up, his chains rattling, licking his pale lips, goggling at the faces of the lords in the front row. ‘your name?’ demanded glokta. ‘salem rews.’ jezal felt a catch in his throat. salem rews? he

the albino shook him by the shoulder and he came round, nodding groggily. ‘what became of the other nine?’ silence. ‘you killed them, did you not?’ another nod, a strange clicking sound coming from the prisoner’s throat. glokta frowned slowly around the rapt faces of the council. ‘villem dan robb, customs official, throat cut ear to ear.’ he slid a finger

than four strides away. his eyes went wide and he started up from his chair. ‘get him!’ screamed glokta. frost sprang forward, lunged across the desk, caught hold of the flicking hem of kault’s robe of office as the magister span round and hurled himself at the window. we have him! there was a sickening rip as the robe tore in

the blades moved by themselves, back and forth, up and down. there was no need for him to look at them. he turned his attention to west’s eyes, watched them flicker from the ground to the steels to jezal’s dancing feet, trying to guess his intentions. he felt the lunge coming even before it was begun. he feinted one way then

and swelled as he danced this way and that. he began to work the odd flourish into his movements, and the onlookers responded, ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ floating up as he flicked west’s efforts away. he had never fenced so well, never moved so smoothly. the bigger man was starting to tire a little, the snap was going out of his cuts.

your judgement.’ ‘he seemed the only possibility,’ muttered glokta, but immediately regretted it. foolish, foolish. the mistake is made. better just to keep your mouth shut. ‘seemed?’ the arch lector clicked his tongue in profound disapproval. ‘no, no, no, inquisitor. seemed is not good enough for us. in future, we’ll have just the facts, if you please. but don’t feel too

ground. men and women, all ages, children even. a hundred or more. six guards rode alongside them, easy in their tall saddles, whips rolled up in their hands. ‘slaves.’ ferro licked her dry lips. ‘the people of kadir have risen up,’ said yulwei, frowning at the miserable procession. ‘they wished no longer to be part of the glorious nation of gurkhul,

made sure i found it out. her brother’s with the king’s own . . . west, something west . . .’ ‘ardee.’ ‘that’s the one! you know her?’ ‘hmm.’ glokta licked at his empty gums. she asked me how i was. i remember. ‘what did they have to talk about?’ the practical raised his eyebrows. ‘probably nothing. she’s from angland though,

sure he would freeze, motionless and staring like a rabbit, but when his turn came his feet stepped off manfully next to gorst’s, the heels of his highly polished boots clicking across the tiled floor and through the high doorway. the square of marshals was transformed. all around, great banks of seating had been erected, stretching back, and back, and up,

thundered the referee. but nothing happened. the two men stood there, facing each other, steels at the ready. jezal’s eyebrow itched. he wanted to scratch it, but how? his opponent licked his lips, then took a cautious step to his left. jezal did the same. they circled each other warily, shoes crunching gently on the dry grass: slowly, slowly drawing closer

stride. now it was a foot. now just six inches separated them. jezal’s whole mind was focused on those two glittering points. three inches. broya jabbed forward, weakly, and jezal flicked it away without thinking. the blades rang gently together and, as though that were a signal prearranged with every person in the arena, the shouting began again, scattered calls to

bellowed threetrees. the dogman saw the old boy now, striding towards them, the firelight catching the metal rim of his big round shield. the man chewed on his lip, eyes flicking from dogman to dow as they moved slowly to either side of him. now he saw the thunderhead, looming out of the darkness in the trees, seeming too big to

of glass so dirty that they would have let in little enough light on the sunniest of days. they let in none whatever as the sullen evening came on. the flickering candleflame danced over dusty paintings on the opposite wall, pale old men in dark gowns of black and grey, gazing wild-eyed from their flaking frames, flasks and cog-wheels and pairs

him with eyes infinitely tired. the university’s dining hall was an echoing cavern of a room, lifted one degree above total darkness by a few guttering candles. a small fire flickered in an enormous fireplace, casting dancing shadows among the rafters. a long table stretched the length of the floor, polished by long years of use, flanked by rickety chairs. it

of anatomy.’ there was an uncomfortable silence, then saurizin took hold of the meat plate and offered it out. glokta looked at the red slices, glistening on the plate. he licked at his empty gums. ‘thank you, no.’ ‘is it true?’ asked the adeptus chemical, peering over the meat, voice hushed. ‘will there be more funds? now that this business with

the union, promising one day to return.’ ‘i see. how much of this is true, do you think?’ ‘hard to say. magus? wizard? magician?’ the old man looked at the flickering candle flame. ‘to a savage, that candle might be magic. it’s a fine line indeed, between magic and trickery, eh? but this bayaz was a cunning mind in his day,

the stacks. it’s a wonder anything can be found down here. ‘what does this one say?’ the ancient librarian peered down at the strange writing, poorly illuminated by the single flickering candle, his trembling forefinger tracing across the parchment, his lips moving silently. ‘great was their fury.’ ‘what?’ ‘that’s how it begins. great was their fury.’ he began slowly to read.

stumbling feet forward, grabbed hold of his hair with her broken hand and drove the knife into his neck. dust blew out into the wind. a fountain of dust. flames flickered around his mouth, charring his lips black, licking burning hot at her fingers. she dropped on top of him, bearing him back onto the ground, choking, snorting. the blade opened

with her broken hand and drove the knife into his neck. dust blew out into the wind. a fountain of dust. flames flickered around his mouth, charring his lips black, licking burning hot at her fingers. she dropped on top of him, bearing him back onto the ground, choking, snorting. the blade opened up his stomach, scraped against his ribs, snapped

she dropped on top of him, bearing him back onto the ground, choking, snorting. the blade opened up his stomach, scraped against his ribs, snapped off in his chest. fire licked out. fire and dust. she hacked at the body mindlessly with the broken knife, long after it had stopped moving. she felt a hand on her shoulder. ‘he is dead,

‘she’s not the equal of those two of course, but she’s really quite pretty in a common sort of way and . . . i think she’d be willing.’ brint licked his lips and nudged jalenhorm in the ribs. the big man grinned guiltily like a schoolboy at a dirty joke. ‘oh yes, she strikes me as the willing type.’ kaspa

fell,’ mumbled glokta. ‘my arm . . .’ the old servant perched on the bed, taking glokta’s hand gently and pushing up the sleeve of his night-shirt. glokta winced, barnam clicked his tongue. his forearm had a big pink mark across it, already beginning to swell and redden. ‘i don’t think it’s broken,’ said the servant, ‘but i should fetch the

him kill shama heartless, kill him then butcher him like a pig. logen winced and flinched and hunched his shoulders higher at the memory of it. cutting, and cutting, and licking the blood from his fingers, while the dogman stared in horror and bethod laughed and cheered him on. he could taste the blood now, and he shuddered and wiped his

bloody-nine? a champion who fought and won ten challenges? the most feared man in the north? no opinion? surely single combat is the same the world over!’ logen winced and licked his lips. the bloody-nine. that was far in the past, but not far enough for his liking. his mouth still tasted like metal, like salt, like blood. touching a man

smiled. it was a simple matter for him to push it away with his short steel. the strength flowed again. he sprang upwards, shoved gorst away with his empty hand, flicked another swing aside, and then another, his one sword doing the work of two with time to spare. the arena was breathless silent but for the rapid clashing of the

almost to be dragging him along behind it. there was a squeal of metal on metal as it tore gorst’s notched long steel from his hand, then another as it flickered across and did the same with his short. for a moment, all was still. the big man, disarmed and with his heels on the very edge of the circle, looked

he did not wake. hoff winced, and, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely, jabbed the royal ribs with his finger. the king jumped, eyelids suddenly flicking wide open, heavy jowls wobbling, staring at jezal with wild, bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes. ‘your majesty, this is captain . . .’ ‘raynault!’ exclaimed the king, ‘my son!’ jezal swallowed nervously,

those stairs, just for this? sult was looking down his nose at the scroll as glokta finally reached the threshold. ‘the ideal audience,’ he was muttering, as the heavy doors clicked shut. in the north, a chieftain’s own carls ate with him every night in his hall. the women brought the food in wooden bowls. you’d stab the lumps of meat

least i earned it. such was lord hoff’s commitment that he did not stop toasting until his goblet was entirely empty, then he shoved it back on the table and licked his lips. ‘and now, before the food arrives, a small surprise has been prepared by my colleague arch lector sult, in honour of another of our guests. i hope you

if i must wait until that steel is rust, or with my bare hands crush that rock to dust, i’ll have my vengeance! the actor’s eyes flashed fire as he flicked out his robe and strode from the stage to rapturous applause. it was a condensed version of a familiar piece, often performed. although rarely so well. glokta was surprised to

who’d asked all the questions . . . logen felt the hairs on his neck rising. there were two figures lurking in the nearest doorway. black-clothed figures, black-masked. his eyes flicked across to the other entrances. each held two of those masked figures, two at least, and he didn’t reckon they were here to collect the plates. they were here for

bald bastard might be so familiar with the building. but familiar he certainly is. he swept down the corridors as though he had spent every day of his life there, clicking his tongue in disgust at the state of the place and prattling all the while. ‘. . . i’ve never seen such dust, eh, captain luthar? i wouldn’t be surprised

there did not even seem to be a hole, but the key slid slowly into the door. slowly, slowly, into the very centre of the circles. glokta held his breath. click. and nothing happened. the door did not open. that is all then. the game is over. he felt a surge of relief as he turned back towards the agriont, raising

the agriont, raising a hand to signal to the practicals on the wall above. i need not go further. i need not. then an answering echo came from deep within. click. glokta felt his face twitch in sympathy with the sound. did i imagine it? he hoped so, with all his being. click. again. no mistake. and now, before his disbelieving

then an answering echo came from deep within. click. glokta felt his face twitch in sympathy with the sound. did i imagine it? he hoped so, with all his being. click. again. no mistake. and now, before his disbelieving eyes, the circles in the door began to turn. glokta took a stunned step back, his cane scraping on the stones of

mistake. and now, before his disbelieving eyes, the circles in the door began to turn. glokta took a stunned step back, his cane scraping on the stones of the bridge. click, click. there had been no sign that the metal was not all one piece, no cracks, no grooves, no mechanism, and yet the circles span, each at a different speed.

and now, before his disbelieving eyes, the circles in the door began to turn. glokta took a stunned step back, his cane scraping on the stones of the bridge. click, click. there had been no sign that the metal was not all one piece, no cracks, no grooves, no mechanism, and yet the circles span, each at a different speed. click,

click. there had been no sign that the metal was not all one piece, no cracks, no grooves, no mechanism, and yet the circles span, each at a different speed. click, click, click . . . faster now, and faster. glokta felt dizzy. the innermost ring, with the largest letters, was still crawling. the outermost, the thinnest one, was flying round

there had been no sign that the metal was not all one piece, no cracks, no grooves, no mechanism, and yet the circles span, each at a different speed. click, click, click . . . faster now, and faster. glokta felt dizzy. the innermost ring, with the largest letters, was still crawling. the outermost, the thinnest one, was flying round too

had been no sign that the metal was not all one piece, no cracks, no grooves, no mechanism, and yet the circles span, each at a different speed. click, click, click . . . faster now, and faster. glokta felt dizzy. the innermost ring, with the largest letters, was still crawling. the outermost, the thinnest one, was flying round too fast

felt dizzy. the innermost ring, with the largest letters, was still crawling. the outermost, the thinnest one, was flying round too fast for his eyes to follow. . . . click, click, click, click, click . . . shapes formed in the markings as the symbols passed each other: lines, squares, triangles, unimaginably intricate, dancing before his eyes then vanishing as

dizzy. the innermost ring, with the largest letters, was still crawling. the outermost, the thinnest one, was flying round too fast for his eyes to follow. . . . click, click, click, click, click . . . shapes formed in the markings as the symbols passed each other: lines, squares, triangles, unimaginably intricate, dancing before his eyes then vanishing as the

the innermost ring, with the largest letters, was still crawling. the outermost, the thinnest one, was flying round too fast for his eyes to follow. . . . click, click, click, click, click . . . shapes formed in the markings as the symbols passed each other: lines, squares, triangles, unimaginably intricate, dancing before his eyes then vanishing as the wheels

innermost ring, with the largest letters, was still crawling. the outermost, the thinnest one, was flying round too fast for his eyes to follow. . . . click, click, click, click, click . . . shapes formed in the markings as the symbols passed each other: lines, squares, triangles, unimaginably intricate, dancing before his eyes then vanishing as the wheels spun

ring, with the largest letters, was still crawling. the outermost, the thinnest one, was flying round too fast for his eyes to follow. . . . click, click, click, click, click . . . shapes formed in the markings as the symbols passed each other: lines, squares, triangles, unimaginably intricate, dancing before his eyes then vanishing as the wheels spun on

shapes formed in the markings as the symbols passed each other: lines, squares, triangles, unimaginably intricate, dancing before his eyes then vanishing as the wheels spun on . . . click. and the circles were still, arranged in a new pattern. bayaz reached up and pulled the key from the door. there was a soft hissing, barely audible, as of water

as of water far away, and a long crack appeared in the door. the two halves moved slowly, smoothly away from each other. the space between them grew steadily larger. click. they slid into the walls, flush with the sides of the square archway. the door stood open. ‘now that,’ said bayaz softly, ‘is craftsmanship.’ no fetid wind spilled out, no

‘good. knowing your own ignorance is the first step to enlightenment. between you and me, though, i’d think of something else to tell the arch lector.’ glokta felt his eyelid flickering. ‘you’d better start across, eh, inquisitor? while i lock up?’ the plunge to the cold water below no longer seemed to hold much fear. if i were to fall, at

i were to fall, at least i would die in the light. glokta looked back only once, as he heard the doors of the maker’s house shut with a soft click, the circles slide back into place. all as it was before we arrived. he turned his prickling back, sucked his gums against the familiar waves of nausea, and cursed and

and read it: the usual place, tomorrow night - a. west’s skin prickled with horror. ‘nothing? nothing?’ he shook the letter under his sister’s nose. ardee turned away from him, flicking her head as you might at a fly, saying nothing, but slurping noisily from her glass. west ground his teeth. ‘it’s luthar, isn’t it?’ ‘i didn’t say so.’ ‘you didn’t

it made him more furious. ‘why don’t you fucking listen?’ he was across the room in an instant. ardee looked surprised, just for a moment, then there was a sharp click—his fist catching her in the face as she got up. she didn’t fall far. his hands caught her before she hit the ground, yanked her up then flung her back

still, ugly, and dangerous. ‘fucking pinks,’ she hissed to herself. the thin one, by contrast, hardly seemed dangerous at all. ill-looking, with long hair like a woman’s. awkward and twitchy, licking his lips. he would sneak the odd glance at her, but look away as soon as she scowled over at him, swallowing, the knobbly lump in his neck squirming up

she kicked at the worn boards of the floor. she poked at the cloths on the walls, and peered behind them, ran her fingers along the edges of the furniture, clicked her tongue and snapped her teeth together. making everyone nervous. she passed by the big ugly pink in the chair, almost close enough for her swinging hand to touch his

moment, without speaking. what the hell does he want, at this hour or any other? glokta scrutinised his old friend’s face in the glow from the fire and the one, flickering candle. now that he could see him more clearly, he realised west had changed. he looks old. his hair was thinning at the temples, going grey round his ears. his

‘ardee, yes. i’m leaving for angland soon and . . . i was hoping that, perhaps, you could keep an eye on her for me, while i’m away.’ west’s eyes flickered up nervously. ‘you always had a way with women . . . sand.’ glokta grimaced at the sound of his first name. no one called him that anymore. no one

knees, and the dogman took an aim on him. before he could loose, dow stepped up and hacked his head off. blood everywhere. horses still milling, screaming, slipping on the slick stones of the bridge. dogman could see bad-enough now, the last one going. he must’ve lost his helmet when he fell off his horse. he was struggling in the stream

and kicked aboard, eyes bulging, mouths frothing. men grunted and groaned, heaved at wet ropes, strained at wet beams, sweating and shouting in the spitting rain, slipping around on the slick decks, running here and there in epic confusion. everywhere people embraced, kissed, waved to each other. wives saying goodbye to husbands, mothers to sons, children to fathers, all equally bedraggled.

third member of the group he realised he had been wrong. bayaz, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. he felt a mild surge of panic as the door shut behind him: the clicking of the latch felt like the clank of the heavy bolt on a prison cell. bayaz started up from his chair and came round the table. ‘captain luthar, i am

around in the lane below. far below, and there was no way down. they’d have to go back the way they came. ferro had already moved away behind him. wind flicked at the side of logen’s face. ferro’s foot slapped against the edge of the roof, and then she was in the air. his jaw hung open as he watched her

fly away, back arched, arms and legs flailing. she landed on a flat roof, grey lead streaked with green moss, rolled once then came up smoothly to her feet. logen licked his lips, pointed at his chest. she nodded. the flat roof was ten feet below, but there might have been twenty feet of empty air between him and it, and

winter. less even. he stabbed, and cut, and cut, and smiled, and the screams bubbled and died, and he let the corpse drop to the cold stones. his fingers were slick with blood and he wiped it on his clothes, on his arms, on his face—just as it should be. the one by the fireplace was sitting, hanging limp, head back,

over something hard. torture. ‘up, bastard, i can’t carry you! up, now! one chance, understand?’ he was lifted slowly, he tried to push with his legs. the breath whistled and clicked in his throat, but he could do it. left foot, right foot. easy. his knee buckled, pain stabbed up his leg. he screamed again and fell, grovelled on the floor.

gap as if slapped in the face. ‘twenty practicals!’ shrieked the arch lector, from beyond the archway. ‘twenty! we should have been questioning that bitch now, instead of sitting here, licking our wounds! how many practicals?’ ‘twenty, arch lec—’ ‘twenty! damn it!’ glokta took a deep breath and insinuated himself through the door. ‘and how many dead?’ the arch lector was

table, quietly shuffled across the room. the arch lector was still standing, hands clasped behind him, as glokta ever so carefully pulled the doors to. it was not until they clicked shut that he realised he had been holding his breath. ‘how’d it go?’ glokta turned round sharply, his neck giving a painful click. strange, how i never learn not to

doors to. it was not until they clicked shut that he realised he had been holding his breath. ‘how’d it go?’ glokta turned round sharply, his neck giving a painful click. strange, how i never learn not to do that. practical vitari was still flopped in her chair, looking up at him with tired eyes. she did not seem to have

strangely invigorating, to have someone trying to keep up with me. he upped the pace, and it hurt him. but it hurts her more. back to the south, then. he licked at his empty gums. hardly a place of happy memories. to fight the gurkish, after what it cost me last time. to root out disloyalty in a city where no

the heat and the dust, at a thankless task almost certain to end in failure. and failure, more than likely, will mean death. he felt his cheek twitch, his eyelid flicker. at the hands of the gurkish? at the hands of plotters against the crown? at the hands of his eminence, or his agents? or simply to vanish, as my predecessor

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the arch lector wants me again, does he?’ the albino nodded. ‘and what might our illustrious leader desire with the likes of us, do you think?’ a shrug. ‘hmmm.’ glokta licked bits of porridge out of his empty gums. ‘does he seem in a good mood, do you know?’ another shrug. ‘come, come, practical frost, don’t tell me everything at once,

little housekeeping.’ ‘how could they know?’ muttered severard. how indeed? ‘they must have seen rews’ list, or been told who was on it.’ and that means . . . glokta licked at his empty gums. ‘someone inside the inquisition has been talking.’ for once, severard’s eyes were not smiling. ‘if they know who’s on the list, they know who wrote it.

wrote there’s no pain worse than the pain of a broken heart? sentimental shit. he should have spent more time in the emperor’s prisons. he smiled, opening his mouth and licking the empty gums where his front teeth used to be. broken hearts heal with time, but broken teeth never do. glokta looked at the young man. he had an expression

things, well-used, but still highly serviceable. a pair of long-handled tongs particularly caught his eye. he glanced up at severard. ‘teeth?’ ‘seemed a good place to start.’ ‘fair enough.’ glokta licked at his own empty gums then cracked his knuckles, one by one. ‘teeth, it is.’ as soon as the gag was off the assassin started screaming at them in styrian,

months’ hard work, then you would probably never need to try at anything again in your life, if that’s what you want. a few short months, and you’re set.’ glokta licked at his empty gums. ‘barring accidents of course. it’s a great chance you’ve been offered. i’d take it, if i was you, but i don’t know. maybe you’re a fool

made sure i found it out. her brother’s with the king’s own . . . west, something west . . .’ ‘ardee.’ ‘that’s the one! you know her?’ ‘hmm.’ glokta licked at his empty gums. she asked me how i was. i remember. ‘what did they have to talk about?’ the practical raised his eyebrows. ‘probably nothing. she’s from angland though,

of anatomy.’ there was an uncomfortable silence, then saurizin took hold of the meat plate and offered it out. glokta looked at the red slices, glistening on the plate. he licked at his empty gums. ‘thank you, no.’ ‘is it true?’ asked the adeptus chemical, peering over the meat, voice hushed. ‘will there be more funds? now that this business with

i were to fall, at least i would die in the light. glokta looked back only once, as he heard the doors of the maker’s house shut with a soft click, the circles slide back into place. all as it was before we arrived. he turned his prickling back, sucked his gums against the familiar waves of nausea, and cursed and

strangely invigorating, to have someone trying to keep up with me. he upped the pace, and it hurt him. but it hurts her more. back to the south, then. he licked at his empty gums. hardly a place of happy memories. to fight the gurkish, after what it cost me last time. to root out disloyalty in a city where no

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Before They Are Hanged - Joe Abercrombie.txt

arrows falling down all round. some of 'em might've got as far as those woods down there, but knowing bethod he'd have had a few horsemen tucked away, ready to lick the plate.' 'shit,' said dogman, feeling more than a bit sick. he'd been on the wrong end of a rout himself, and the memory weren't at all a happy one.

hissed threetrees. 'nothing.' it was plain they had some strange ideas about fighting down in the union. if wars were won by the shinier side, they'd have had bethod well licked, the dogman reckoned. shame they weren't. their chief was sat in the midst of them, behind a little table with some scraps of paper on it, and he was the

want to ride, eh, west?' 'of course, sir, but now would—' 'yah!' the lord marshal dug his spurs in with a will and his horse bolted down the track, mud flicking up from its hooves. west gaped after him for a moment. 'damn it,' he whispered. the stubborn old fool would most likely get thrown and break his thick neck. then

'that's me,' growled the lean one with the pointy teeth, flashing his worrying grin again. 'good to meet.' he grabbed hold of west's hand and squeezed it until his knuckles clicked. threetrees jerked his thumb sideways at the evil one with the axe and the missing ear. 'this friendly fellow's black dow. i'd say he gets better with time, but he

dug his remaining teeth into his empty gums, forced himself to keep pace with the others, the handle of his cane cutting into his palm, his spine giving an agonising click with every step. 'this is the lower city,' grumbled harker over his shoulder, 'where the native population are housed.' a giant, boiling, dusty, stinking slum. the buildings were mean and

the night he disappeared. i have been questioning them.' 'and what have you discovered?' 'nothing yet, unfortunately. they have proved exceedingly stubborn.' 'then let us question them together.' 'together?' harker licked his lips. 'i wasn't aware that you would want to question them yourself, superior.' 'now you are.' one would have thought it would be cooler, deep within the rock. but

every bit as hot as outside in the baking streets, without the mercy of the slightest breeze. the corridor was silent, dead, and stuffy as a tomb. vitari's torch cast flickering shadows into the corners, and the darkness closed in fast behind them. harker paused beside an iron-bound door, mopped fat beads of sweat from his face. 'i must warn you,

whipped raw. vitari stooped and prodded at one of them with her finger. 'dead,' she said simply. she crossed to the other. 'and this one. dead a good while.' the flickering light fell across a third prisoner. this one was alive. just. she was chained by hands and feet, face hollow with hunger, lips cracked with thirst, clutching filthy, bloodstained rags

even keep them alive long enough to confess?' harker looked sullen. like a child unfairly punished by his schoolmaster. 'there's still the girl,' he snapped. glokta looked down at her, licking at the space where his front teeth used to be. there is no method here. no purpose. brutality, for it's own sake. i might almost be sickened, had i eaten

up the king's writ between two fingers. he let everyone look at it for a moment, making sure they could see the heavy seal of red and gold, then he flicked it across the table. the others stared over suspiciously as carlot dan eider picked up the document, unfolded it and started to read. she frowned, then raised one well-plucked eyebrow.

our best chance, another at aostum, a hundred miles or more further west. there are fords, but the aos is mighty, and fast-flowing, and the valley deep and dangerous.' longfoot clicked his tongue. 'that is before we reach the broken mountains.' 'high, are they?' 'oh, extremely. very high, and very perilous. called broken for their steep cliffs, their jagged ravines, their

dry hills on the mainland. a few sorry-looking seabirds squawked and circled over the causeway, but there were no other signs of life. 'might i borrow your eye-glass, general?' vissbruck flicked the eye-glass open and slapped it sulkily into glokta's outstretched hand. plainly he feels he has better things to do than give me a tour of the defences. the general

yet there is a certain calculation there. not half as drunk as he pretends, perhaps. 'the same one who fought in gurkhul? the colonel of horse?' glokta felt his eyelid flicker. you could hardly say the same man, but surprisingly well remembered, nonetheless. 'i gave up soldiery some years ago. i'm surprised you've heard of me.' 'a fighting man should know

long will they be content to watch, i wonder? how long before the sun goes down for us? the door opened and glokta turned his head, wincing as his neck clicked. it was the lord governor's son, korsten dan vurms. he shut the door behind him and strode purposefully into the room, metal heel tips clicking on the mosaic floor. ah,

head, wincing as his neck clicked. it was the lord governor's son, korsten dan vurms. he shut the door behind him and strode purposefully into the room, metal heel tips clicking on the mosaic floor. ah, the flower of the union's young nobility. the sense of honour is almost palpable. or did someone fart? 'superior glokta! i hope i have not

glokta smiled. his most revolting, leering, gap-toothed smile. 'you'd have to be a bold man to bet your life on what i'd dare. how bold are you?' the young man licked his lips, but he did not meet glokta's gaze for long. i thought not. he reminds me of my friend captain luthar. all flash and arrogance, but with no kind

squeaked. ferro scowled at it. damn wheel. damn cart. she shifted her scorn from the cart to its driver. damn apprentice. she didn't trust him a finger's breadth. his eyes flickered over to her, lingered an insulting moment, then darted off. as if he knew something about ferro that she did not know herself. that made her angry. she looked away

lucky to find it. it was as big a feature in the landscape as ferro had seen all day. the fire that longfoot had made was burning well now, flames licking bright and hungry at the wood, rustling and flickering out sideways as a gust of wind swept down into the hollow. the five pinks sat clustered around it, hunched and

feature in the landscape as ferro had seen all day. the fire that longfoot had made was burning well now, flames licking bright and hungry at the wood, rustling and flickering out sideways as a gust of wind swept down into the hollow. the five pinks sat clustered around it, hunched and huddled for warmth, light from it bright on their

deep water. 'do you disapprove?' glokta rubbed at his aching neck. 'not in the least. martyrdom suits you, but you'll have to forgive me if i don't join in.' he licked at his empty gums. 'i've made my sacrifices.' 'perhaps not all of them. ask your questions.' straight to business, then. nothing to hide? or nothing to lose? 'do you know

twisted corpse, i wonder? 'superior.' opening his eyes and lifting his head was a great and painful effort. everything hurt from his exertions of the past few days. his neck clicked like a snapping twig with every movement, his back was stiff and brittle as a mirror, his leg veered between nagging agony and trembling numbness. shickel was standing in the

chest in his quarters, and when he disappeared… i took it!' 'where is this money now?' 'gone! i spent it! on women… and on wine, and, and, on anything!' glokta clicked his tongue. 'tut, tut.' greed and conspiracy, injustice and betrayal, robbery and murder. all the ingredients of a tale to titillate the masses. saucy, but hardly relevant. he worked his

perhaps. but hardly the answer i need. 'not good enough.' glokta squeezed his hand and the metal jaws bit cleanly through flesh and met in the middle with a gentle click. harker bellowed, and thrashed, and roared in agony, blood bubbling from the red square of flesh where his nipple used to be and running down his pale belly in dark

nipple used to be and running down his pale belly in dark streaks. glokta winced at a twinge in his neck and stretched his head out until he heard it click. strange how, with time, even the most terrible suffering of others can become… tedious. 'practical frost, the inquisitor is bleeding! if you please!' 'i'th thorry.' the iron scraped as frost

'i thought you might appreciate it. you see, i have been asking questions also.' the water plopped and tinkled in the pool, the fabric rustled on the walls, the silverware clicked gently against the fine pottery of their bowls. i would call that first round a draw. carlot dan eider was the first to break the silence. 'i realise, of course,

and oh so very rich. just the sort of woman i would have wanted to marry, for that matter, when i was younger. when i was a different man. the flickering candlelight shone on her hair, flashed on the jewels around her long neck, glowed through the wine as it sloshed from the neck of the bottle. does she try and

of asking questions, i have no doubt you've a bright future as a merchant.' 'a merchant? oh, i'm not that ruthless.' glokta placed his spoon in the empty bowl and licked at his gums. 'i mean no disrespect, but how does a woman come to head the most powerful guild in the union?' eider paused, as though wondering whether to answer

i was magister in all but name, and my colleagues were sensible enough to formalise the arrangement. the spicers have always been more concerned for profit than propriety.' her eyes flicked up to look at glokta. 'i mean no disrespect, but how does a war hero come to be a torturer?' it was his turn to pause. a good question. how

magus through barely open teeth. so logen rode on, tired, and sore, and bored, and watched those few birds gliding slowly over the endless plain. nice, big, fat birds. he licked his lips. 'we could do with some meat,' he muttered. hadn't had fresh meat in a good long time now. not since they left calcis. logen rubbed his stomach. the

else moved. 'us too,' logen grunted at luthar. 'me?' 'who else? three's a good number. let's go, and let's keep it stealthy.' luthar peered through the grass into the valley, licked his lips, rubbed his palms together. nervous, logen could tell, nervous but proud at the same time, like an untried boy before a battle, trying to show he's not scared

than once. out of all of them, she was the one he'd trust first, and furthest. so he squatted down and held the skin out to her, its bulbous shadow flickering and shifting on the rough wall behind her. she frowned at it for a moment, then frowned up at logen. then she snatched it off him and bent back over

towards the brook. ferro watched him go, a strange expression on her face that might even have been her version of a smile. she looked back at the fire, and licked her lips. logen pulled the stopper from the water skin and held it out to her. 'uh,' she grunted, snatched it from his hand, took a quick swallow. while she

the noise of drumming rain. the practical knocked at an ill-fitting door. 'come in.' a small, spare room with grey walls, cold and smelling slightly of damp. a mean fire flickered in the grate, a sagging shelf was stacked with books. a portrait of the king of the union stared regally down from one wall. a lean man in a black

burned man shuffled and clanked his way down the line, pulling men forward by their shoulders while the commandant looked on, his frown growing deeper with every passing moment. west licked his dry lips. hard to believe that in so little time he could have gone from so horribly cold to so horribly hot, but here he was, more uncomfortable than

look at him. 'we should always be careful! that goes without saying! how far are we from darmium?' longfoot squinted up at the sky, then out across the plain. he licked his finger and held it up to the wind. 'even for a man of my talents, it is hard to be accurate without the stars. fifty miles or thereabouts.' 'we'll

stunned horror on his face. 'now!' snapped bayaz. 'it is plainly not safe to remain here.' and with that he turned his horse away from the corpses. quai shrugged and flicked his reigns and the cart grumbled off through the grass after the first of the magi. longfoot and ninefingers followed behind, all frowns and foreboding. jezal stared at the bodies,

that score. he could see no way up here, though. not without an hour or two to spare. cliffs of leaning blocks heavy with dead creeper, crags of tottering stonework slick with moss, seeming to lean and tip as the clouds moved fast above. 'how the hell you planning to get up…' she was already halfway up one of the pillars.

slid the longer of his two swords from its sheath and laid it across his knees. steel glinted mirror-bright as he turned it over in his lap, frowned at it, licked a finger and scrubbed at some invisible blemish. he pulled out his whetstone, spat on it, and carefully set to work on the long, thin blade. the metal rang gently

speared it on the glinting point of his sword. 'give me that back!' luthar stood up. 'of course,' he tossed it off the end of the blade with a practised flick of his wrist. before longfoot's reaching hands could close around it, luthar had snatched his short sword from its sheath and whipped it blurring through the air. the navigator was

gave it to a girl, down in the slums.' 'ah. shame.' 'not really, she fucks like a madman. i'd thoroughly recommend her, if you're interested.' glokta winced as his knee clicked. 'what a thoroughly heartwarming tale, severard, i never had you down for a romantic. i'd sing a ballad if i wasn't so short of funds.' 'i could ask around. how

from behind the dead tree trunk. two more appeared, and then three more, creeping out from behind the rocks, behind the bushes, all with serious faces and serious weapons. jezal licked his lips. he would laugh in the face of danger, of course, but now it came to it nothing seemed at all amusing. he looked over his shoulder. more men

forge. the foremost of the men frowned, opened his mouth to speak. his face seemed to flatten, then his head broke open and he was suddenly snatched away as though flicked by a giant, unseen finger. he had not even time to scream. nor had the four men who stood behind him. their ruined bodies, the broken remnants of the grey

slashed his opponent across the belly as he passed. the man grunted, stumbled a step or two. ninefingers' heavy sword chopped into the back of his skull with a hollow clicking sound. he tripped over his own feet and pitched onto his face, blood bubbling from the gaping wound in his head. jezal watched it spread slowly out through the dirt

shallow, his skin was pale and blotchy, drawn tight over his bones and beaded with sweat. from time to time he'd twitch, and squirm, and mutter strange words, his eyelids flickering like a man trapped in a bad dream. 'what happened?' quai stared down. 'whenever you use the art, you borrow from the other side, and what is borrowed has to

him, and that ain't likely. bethod was never one for staying put. if he's marching south, he could be three days away. less even.' 'what are his numbers?' the dogman licked his lips, breath smoking round his lean face in the chill air. 'i'd guess at ten thousand, but he might have more behind.' west felt colder yet. 'ten thousand? that

them back over the border! just as marshal burr intended!' 'but, your highness,' stammered west, feeling slightly queasy, 'the lord marshal explicitly ordered that we remain behind the river—' ladisla flicked his head, as though bothered by a fly. 'the spirit of his orders, colonel, not the letter! he can hardly complain if we take the fight to our enemy!' 'these

a rough hand shook glokta from his sleep. he rolled his head gingerly from the side he had been sleeping on, clenching his teeth at the pain as his neck clicked. does death come early in the morning, today? he opened his eyes a crack. ah. not quite yet, it seems. perhaps at lunch time. vitari stared down at him, spiky

sure you also remember a certain engagement, at a certain bridge, where a certain young officer fell into our hands.' the emissary smiled. 'god is everywhere.' glokta felt his eyelid flickering. he knows i am not likely to forget. he remembered his surprise as a gurkish spear cut into his body. surprise, and disappointment, and the most intense pain. not invulnerable,

only, and will never be repeated. he is merciful, but his mercy has limits. you have until sunset.' and he swept from the room. glokta waited until the door had clicked shut before he slowly turned his chair around to face the others. 'what in hell was that?' he snarled at vissbruck. 'er…' the general tugged at his sweaty collar. 'it

a man. one might have hoped that the chance at doing the same to one of them, the chance at cutting out vengeance, pound for pound, would provide some dull flicker of pleasure. and yet he felt nothing. nothing but my own pain. he winced as he stretched his leg out and felt the knee click, hissed air through his empty

pound, would provide some dull flicker of pleasure. and yet he felt nothing. nothing but my own pain. he winced as he stretched his leg out and felt the knee click, hissed air through his empty gums. so why do i do this? glokta sighed. 'next will come a toe. then a finger, an eye, a hand, your nose, and so

would be gone. soon it will be night. he paused for a moment before the doors to the audience chamber, catching his breath, letting the ache in his leg subside, licking at his empty gums. 'give me the bag, then.' frost handed him the sack, put one white hand against the doors. 'you reathy?' he mumbled. ready as i'll ever be.

looked over at korsten dan vurms. 'unless it's already too late for that, eh? unless you've already sold the city to the gurkish, and you can't go back!' vurms' eyes flickered to the door, to cosca, to the horrified general vissbruck, to frost, hulking ominous in the corner, and finally to magister eider, still sitting steely calm and composed. and our

to do something with that?' 'stick it on the battlements of the land walls, somewhere it can be easily seen. let the gurkish understand the strength of our resolve.' cosca clicked his tongue. 'heads on spikes, eh?' he dragged the head off the table by its long beard. 'never goes out of fashion.' the doors clicked shut behind him, and glokta

strength of our resolve.' cosca clicked his tongue. 'heads on spikes, eh?' he dragged the head off the table by its long beard. 'never goes out of fashion.' the doors clicked shut behind him, and glokta was left alone in the audience chamber. he rubbed at his stiff neck, stretched his stiff leg out beneath the bloody table. a good day's

he slid in behind the next stone. a poor effort, but they'd have plenty more. he peered round the edge. he saw quick shapes, rushing from rock to rock. he licked his lips and hefted the maker's sword. there was blood on the dark blade now, blood on the silver letter near the hilt. but there was much more work to

much difficulty. he did not doubt that he appeared suitably scared. it was the most he could do not to turn and run. he backed slowly away towards the cart, licking his lips with a nervousness that was anything but feigned. never take an enemy lightly. he looked them over, these two. strong-looking men, well equipped. they both wore armour of

muttered taking a step towards ladisla. 'you there!' shouted lord smund at the foremost horseman. 'prepare your men for another—' the rider's sword chopped into his skull with a hollow clicking sound. a spray of blood went up, black in the white mist, and the horsemen broke into a charge, screaming at the tops of their voices. terrifying, eerie, inhuman sounds.

and crashed onto his side in the muck. somebody stood behind him. they came close, leaned over. a woman's face. she seemed familiar, somehow. 'you alive?' like that, west's mind clicked back into place. he took a great coughing breath, rolled over and grabbed hold of his sword. there were northmen, northmen behind their lines! he scrambled to his feet, clawed

clenched fists. severard looked down on this brutal scene with a slight smile around his eyes, tuneless whistling vaguely audible over the choking, hissing, gurgling of eider's last breaths. glokta licked at his empty gums as he watched her thrashing on the cell floor. she has to die. there are no options. his eminence demands harsh punishment. his eminence demands examples

thrashing on the cell floor. she has to die. there are no options. his eminence demands harsh punishment. his eminence demands examples made. his eminence demands scant mercy. glokta's eyelid flickered, his face twitched. the room was airless, hot as a forge. he was damp with sweat, thirsty as hell. he could scarcely draw a breath. he felt almost as if

to hand, struggling vainly to contain the spreading inferno. those with the least always lose the most in war. there were fires all across the lower city now. glowing, shimmering, flickering in the wind off the sea, reflecting orange, yellow, angry red in the black water. even up here, the air smelled heavy, oily and choking from the smoke. down there

and it could be trouble.' 'a visitor, eh?' glokta looked up. her voice sounded different. deeper, harder. her face looked different too, one side in shadow, one side lit in flickering orange from the fires outside the window. a strange expression, teeth half-bared, eyes fixed on glokta and glittering with a hungry intensity as she padded slowly forward. a fearsome expression,

teeth half-bared, eyes fixed on glokta and glittering with a hungry intensity as she padded slowly forward. a fearsome expression, almost. if i was prone to fear… and the wheels clicked into place. 'you?' he breathed. 'me.' you? glokta could not help himself. he let out a burst of involuntary chuckling. 'harker had you! that idiot stumbled on you by mistake,

looks, pink?' 'huh. best get started on his arm. then there's the leg to set an' all.' 'where did you put that shield?' 'no,' groaned jezal, 'please…' nothing but a click in his throat. he could see something now, blurry shapes in the half-light. a face loomed towards him, an ugly face. bent and broken nose, skin torn and crossed with

clumsy as new-born calves. tul and threetrees were waiting for them at the bottom, looking mighty short on patience. 'bethod's heading north,' said dogman. 'good for him.' 'not surprised?' dow licked his teeth and spat. 'he's beat every clan that dared face him, made himself a king where there wasn't one before, gone to war with the union and he's giving

now the ruins of two great siege towers are still smouldering beyond the land walls, corpses scattered round them like leaves fallen in autumn … 'thhhhh.' glokta felt his neck click as he turned and squinted into the darkness. practical frost emerged from the shadows between two dark buildings, peering suspiciously around, herding a prisoner in front of him; someone much

blades? the choking wire across the throat? the terrible anticipation. which shall it be? frost raised his hand. there was a flash of metal in the darkness. then a gentle clicking as the key slid smoothly into eider's manacles and unlocked them. she slowly prised open her eyes, slowly brought her hands round in front of her, blinked down as though

was in no mood to join him. 'a bad wound, alright. a naming wound they'd call it, where i come from.' 'a wha?' muttered jezal, immediately regretting it as pain licked at his jaw. 'a naming wound, you know,' and ninefingers waggled the stump of his finger. 'a wound you could get named after. they'd probably call you brokejaw, or bentface

me.' she thought about that, for a minute, looking sideways at him from the corners of her eyes. looking without turning her head, so if he glanced over she could flick her eyes away and pretend she never was looking at all. she had to admit, now that she was getting used to him, the big pink was not so bad.

but no man entertains a thought of surrender. we will fight on. as always, your eminence, i serve and obey. sand dan glokta superior of dagoska. glokta held his breath, licking at his gums as he watched the dust clouds settling across the roofs of the slums through his eye-glass. the last crashes and clatters of falling stones faded, and dagoska,

the pattern of life. he shrugged his aching shoulders and hobbled forwards into the room. 'progress?' he croaked. severard straightened up, grunting and arching his back, wiped his forehead and flicked sweat onto the slimy floor. 'i don't know about her, but i'm more than halfway to breaking.' 'we're getting nowhere!' snapped vitari, tossing the black iron back in the brazier

slapping the tails of his coat against his legs. the closest thing we'll get to winter in this cursed crucible. the flames of the torches by the door flapped and flickered in their iron cages, two lights in the gathering darkness. there were more lights out there, many more. lamps burned on the rigging of the union ships in the harbour,

you, and if you've got none at all you don't miss it.' he shook his head. 'but some men think it's the best thing in the world.' 'uh,' muttered glokta, licking at his empty gums. honour is worth less than one's legs, or one's teeth. a lesson i paid dearly for. he peered towards the shadowy outline of the land walls,

the bloody business continues. he took a deep breath. 'what are our chances of holding out for another week?' 'another week?' cosca pursed his lips. 'reasonable.' 'two weeks?' 'two?' cosca clicked his tongue. 'less good.' 'which would make a month a hopeless cause.' 'hopeless would be the word.' 'you seem almost to revel in the situation.' 'me? i've made a speciality

missing teeth. 'for every meagre shack, and crumbling hut, and worthless stretch of dust.' for my weeping eye, and my twisted back, and my repulsive shadow of a life. he licked at his empty gums. 'make them pay.' 'excellent! the only good gurkish are the dead ones!' the mercenary spun and marched through the door into the citadel, his spurs jingling,

finger. 'it's good,' said logen. 'you're lucky. you might not be quite so pretty as you were, but you're still a damn sight better-looking than me.' 'of course,' he said, licking at the notch in his lip, half-smiling. 'it isn't as though they cut my head right off.' logen grinned as he knelt down beside the pot and gave it a

what it said. the grass on the plain had dwindled to brown tufts and grey dust. he looked round the ruined shell of the house they'd pitched camp in. firelight flickered on broken stone, crumbled render, ancient splintered wood. no ferns rooted in the cracks, no saplings in the earth floor, not even a shred of moss between the stones. seemed

beautiful beyond compare.' bayaz' face twitched, and he looked down at the ground with a sour smile. 'or so she seems to me, in memory.' 'that was good,' said luthar, licking his fingers and setting down his empty bowl. he'd become a great deal less picky with his food lately. logen reckoned a few weeks of not being able to chew

to. if i had obeyed juvens, perhaps i would not have this.' bayaz undid the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled his collar to one side. the firelight flickered on a faded scar, from the base of the old man's neck down towards his shoulder. 'the maker himself gave it to me. another inch and it would have been

duel, with a man called harding grim. damn lucky to live, and that's a fact.' 'if it was in a duel,' murmured bayaz, 'how did you come out alive?' logen licked his lips. his mouth tasted bitter. 'i beat him.' 'with a spear through you?' 'i didn't know about it until afterwards.' longfoot and luthar frowned at each other. 'that would

shocked. 'you scarred yourself?' 'what of it?' silence again. the wind blew up and swirled around inside the ruin, hissing in the chinks between the stones and making the flames flicker and dance. no one had much left to say after that. * * * furious « ^ » the snow drifted down, white specks swirling in the empty air beyond

had only just got nearly comfortable and it was difficult to take an interest in anything beyond his own pain. he slowly unfolded his aching legs, heard his cold knees click as he got up, shook himself, tried to slap the tiredness out of his body. he started shuffling towards the northmen, bent over like an old man, arms wrapped round

one.' and vissbruck snapped his well-polished heels together and stood to vibrating attention. he remained like that for a moment, frozen, then turned without a word for the door, soles clicking loud against the floor and dying away in the corridor outside. glokta looked over at kahdia. 'regardless of what i said to the general, i would urge you to surrender

coat pocket. half a million marks in polished stones, barely touched. he felt again the tugging temptation to open it, to dig his hand inside and feel that cool, hard, clicking distillation of wealth between his fingers. he resisted with an effort, bent down with a greater one, pushed some of the folded clothes aside with one hand and dug the

should cut your fucking throat right now!' her knee jabbed painfully into his stomach, cold metal tickled gently at the skin on his neck, her blue eyes glared into his, flickering back and forth, glistening hard as the stones in the box under his back. my death could be moments away. easily. he remembered watching her choke the life out of

the calm surface of the bay. shifting fragments, red, yellow, sparkling white in the black water. frost pulled at the oars, smoothly, evenly, his pale face half lit by the flickering fires in the city, expressionless. severard sat behind him, hunched over, glowering out across the water. vitari was beyond, in the prow, her head no more than a spiky outline.

done differently? i could have thrown in my lot with eider and the rest. given the city away to the gurkish without a fight. would that have changed anything? glokta licked sourly at his empty gums. the emperor would have set about his purges just the same. sult would have sent for me, just as he has done. little differences, hardly

that did not seem like such a bad life at all. the great walls thrust up sheer, scabbed with broken battlements, blistered with shattered towers, scarred with black cracks and slick with wet. a cliff of dark stone, curving away out of sight into the grey drizzle, the bare earth in front of it pooled with brown water and scattered with

take a breath. logen put his head down, frowning towards the circle of light at the far end as it grew steadily bigger. he glanced sideways and caught luthar's eye, licking his lips nervously in the gloom, wet hair plastered to his face. and then they came out into the open. 'my, my,' breathed longfoot. 'my, my, my…' colossal buildings rose

huddled group in that outsize space, like scared sheep in a bare valley, waiting for the wolves to come. rain hissed on stone high overhead, falling water splattered on the slick cobbles, trickled down the crumbling walls, gurgled in the cracks in the road. the thudding of hooves fell muffled. the cartwheels gently croaked and groaned. no other noise. no bustle,

cartwheels, at the splatter of falling water into a pool, at the snort of one of the horses, his head jerking this way and that, the tip of his tongue licking endlessly at the slot in his lip. quai sat on the cart, bent over with his wet hair flapping round his gaunt face, pale lips pressed together into a hard

trying to reckon the right course. she saw his worry and his doubt written in his every movement. he knew as well as she did. this place was not safe. click-clank. it came faint through the rain, like the sound of a hammer on a distant anvil. the sound of weapons being made ready. she stood up in her stirrups, straining

sound of weapons being made ready. she stood up in her stirrups, straining to listen. 'do you hear that?' she snapped at ninefingers. he paused, squinting off at nothing, listening. click-clank. he nodded slowly. 'i hear it.' he slid his sword out from its sheath. 'what?' luthar stared around wild-eyed, fumbling for his own weapons. 'there's nothing out there,' grumbled bayaz.

into the ruined square. 'ssss!' she hissed at him, but he ignored her. 'you can put your weapons away,' he called over his shoulder. 'it's nothing but an old bell, clicking in the wind. the city was full of them. you should have heard them pealing out, when an emperor was born, or crowned, or married, or welcomed back from a

showered the beloved with flower petals! and cheered until their voices were hoarse!' he started to laugh, and he let his arms fall, and high above him the broken bell clicked and clanked in the wind. 'long ago. come on.' quai snapped the reins and the cart trundled off after the magus. ninefingers shrugged at her and sheathed his sword. ferro

magus. ninefingers shrugged at her and sheathed his sword. ferro stayed a moment, staring up suspiciously at the stark outline of that leaning tower, dark clouds flowing past above it. click-clank. then she followed the others. the statues swam up out of the angry rain, one pair of frozen giants at a time, their faces all worn down by the long

ashes of khalul and all his servants. hot enough to make such vengeance that even you will have your fill of it, and more. are you coming now?' and he clicked his tongue, pulling his horse away and back onto the bridge. ferro frowned at the old pink's back as she rode after him, chewing hard at her lip. when she

his tongue, pulling his horse away and back onto the bridge. ferro frowned at the old pink's back as she rode after him, chewing hard at her lip. when she licked it, she tasted blood. blood, but no pain. she did not like to believe anything the magus said, but there was no denying that she was not as others were.

the ruins they had come from, half hidden on the far bank by the grey shroud of drizzle. 'ssss!' she jerked on her reins, glaring over the surging water, eyes flicking over the hundreds of empty windows, the hundreds of empty doorways, the hundreds of cracks and gaps and spaces in the crumbling walls. 'what did you see?' came ninefingers' worried

horses, reckoning the route. thought you might use a few minutes more under the blanket.' 'thanks.' he could have used a few hours more yet. jezal worked his sour mouth, licking at the aching holes in his teeth, the sore crease in his lip, checking how painful they were this morning. every day the swelling was a little less. he was

earth as though the world was falling in. perhaps it was. the ground bucked and trembled underneath him. there was another deafening crash, a long clattering and scraping, a gentle clicking, then something close to quiet. logen unclenched his aching jaw and opened his eyes. the air was full of stinging dust, but it felt as if he was lying on

down into his face. stone squealed as the block swung ever so slowly back the other way. he lay there, gasping. no way up, no way down. 'ssss!' ferro's eyes flicked to their hands, gripped tight round each other's wrists. she jerked her head up towards the edge of the block, then down towards the gaping crack behind. 'have to be

easily slide into the abyss at any moment. 'do something…' whispered ferro, not even daring to raise her voice. jezal noticed that she did not suggest any specifics, however. he licked at the slot in his lip. perhaps if he were to put his weight on this end it would tilt back level and they could simply crawl off? could it

balance, half-walking, half-wading, up to her knees in places, bones cracking and scraping around her legs. she made it down onto the cavern floor and knelt there, staring round and licking her lips. nothing moved. the three shanka lay still, dark blood pooling on the stone underneath their bodies. 'gah!' ninefingers tumbled down the slope, clattering splinters flying up around him,

shanka. his eyes were bulging, his throat was burning, he could not swallow. he wasn't sure when he had drawn the maker's sword, but now the orange light flashed and flickered on the bare dark metal, his right hand bunched into a fist around the grip, painful tight. he couldn't make the fingers open. he stared at them, glowing orange and

fire and darkness and he drifted and slithered between their crude blows, around their fumbling spears, under and over their worthless screams and their useless fury. easier to stab the flickering flame. easier to cut the shirting shadows. their weakness was an insult to his strength. 'die!' he roared, and the blade made circles, savage and beautiful, the letter on the

one more, sword hanging from one hand, a length of bloody gut from the other, winding slowly from the slaughtered flat-head's corpse. the creatures shuffled back before him, squeaking and clicking to each other, and the bloody-nine laughed in their faces. the shanka might be ever so full of mad fury, but even they had to fear him. everything did. even

towards an archway in the far wall, one bloody hand clamped to his mouth. he leaned there, against the warm stone, dribbling sour blood and spit onto the ground, pain licking at his side, at his face, at his torn knuckles. but if he'd been hoping for pity, he'd chosen the wrong companion. 'let's go,' snapped ferro. 'come on, pink, up.'

his eyes close, and enjoyed the feeling of not having to move. he frowned. there was a strange sound in the darkness, over the trickling of the stream. a tapping, clicking sound. it took him a moment to realise what it was. ferro's teeth. he dragged his coat off, wincing as he pulled it over his torn elbow, and held it

breathing… hold on. there was something stirring down below again, now. sore, but definitely stiffening. the one advantage of having a long time without—the bucket fills up again quick. logen licked his lips. it would be a shame to let the chance pass, just for a lack of nerve. he slid down beside her, shuffled up close, and cleared his throat.

adua. a mean, thin, ugly sort of rain on a hard wind off the sea, that rendered the treacherous wood of the gangplank, the squealing timbers of the wharf, the slick stones of the quay, all slippery as liars. he licked at his sore gums, rubbed at his sore thigh, swept his grimace up and down the grey shoreline. a pair

hard wind off the sea, that rendered the treacherous wood of the gangplank, the squealing timbers of the wharf, the slick stones of the quay, all slippery as liars. he licked at his sore gums, rubbed at his sore thigh, swept his grimace up and down the grey shoreline. a pair of surly-looking guardsmen were leaning against a rotten warehouse ten

as the crisis is over, the strength all leeches away in an instant. glokta reached out, almost touched her shoulder to steady her, but at the last moment her eyes flickered open, and she straightened up again, and he pulled his hand away. superior glokta, rescuer of young women in distress. he guided her into the hallway and towards the broken

crossed, gloved hands hanging limp over the rail. 'of course he will.' glokta winced as he hobbled to the open door. and we wouldn't want to keep his eminence waiting. click, tap, pain, that was the rhythm of glokta's walking. the confident click of his right heel, the tap of his cane on the echoing tiles of the hallway, then the

glokta winced as he hobbled to the open door. and we wouldn't want to keep his eminence waiting. click, tap, pain, that was the rhythm of glokta's walking. the confident click of his right heel, the tap of his cane on the echoing tiles of the hallway, then the long scrape of his left foot with the familiar pain in the

the tap of his cane on the echoing tiles of the hallway, then the long scrape of his left foot with the familiar pain in the knee, arse and back. click, tap, pain. he had walked from the docks to ardee's house, to the agriont, to the house of questions, and all the way up here. limped. on my own. without

oh, and i let the biggest traitor of the lot go free. it was, without doubt, a heroic business. how did i manage it? 'rising early,' he murmured. sult's eye flickered, and glokta caught it. a trace of annoyance, perhaps? a trace of mistrust? but it was quickly extinguished. 'rising early. of course.' he raised his glass. 'the second greatest virtue.

to you, really. the lord marshal put me on his staff when i got back.' 'though captain jalenhorm still finds time to spend with us little people, bless him.' brint licked his fingertips and started dealing four hands. 'i've no stake, i'm afraid,' muttered west. kaspa grinned. 'don't worry, colonel, we don't play for money any more. without luthar to make

in the half-frozen mud. fires burned here and there and men clustered round them in the darkness, swaddled in all the clothes they possessed, breath smoking, pinched faces lit in flickering yellow. one fire burned brighter than the others, up on a slope above the camp, and west made for that now, feet weaving from the drink. he saw two dark

sunlight sparkled, and insects skated and buzzed lazily on the rippling water. a beautiful place, most likely, if you thought that way. ferro did not. 'fish in there,' she murmured, licking her lips. a fish would be nice, stuck on a twig over a fire. the bits of horse they had carried with them were all gone, and she was hungry.

be nice, stuck on a twig over a fire. the bits of horse they had carried with them were all gone, and she was hungry. she watched the vague shapes flicker under the shimmering water as she squatted down to fill up her canteen. lots of fish. ninefingers dumped his heavy pack and sat down on the rocks beside it, dragging

for now. she had come too far, and got too close, not to see this business through. she glanced over at ninefingers and caught him staring at her. his eyes flicked away, back to the water. she frowned deeper. he was always looking at her lately. staring, and grinning, and making bad jokes. and now she found herself looking at him

her, just for an instant. ferro's frown grew deeper yet. she pulled her knife out, snatched up one of the fish and took its head off, slit it open and flicked its slimy guts out, plopping down into the water next to ninefingers' leg. it had been a mistake to fuck him, of course, but things had not turned out so

from the south and they bloody let him past without a fight! now he's all walled up here, close to food and water, nice and happy, waiting for us!' threetrees clicked his tongue. 'no point crying 'bout it now, is there? bethod got round you once or twice before, as i recall.' 'huh. bastard's got one hell of a knack for

some reason, was pale as death. 'clearly,' snapped glokta. 'that was them knocking at the door, i assume.' he dropped his spoon into his barely touched bowl of soup and licked sourly at his gums. a particularly disgusting excuse for a meal, this evening. i miss shickel's cooking, if not her attempts to kill me. 'well, who is it, man?' 'it's…

they were, but many of the mercenaries were merely enslaved, and the natives, by and large, were spared.' gurkish mercy, who could have thought it? miracles do happen, then. sult flicked angrily at a speck of dust on one immaculate glove. 'i hear that, when the gurkish had broken into the citadel, general vissbruck killed himself rather than be captured.' well

word. 'for books,' came logen's voice. 'books,' she snorted. 'waste of fucking time.' vague sounds echoed from beyond the gate: someone approaching inside, accompanied by an irritated muttering. now locks clicked and grated and the weathered door squealed open. a man of an advanced age and a pronounced stoop gazed at them in wonder, an unintelligible curse frozen on his lips,

jezal half expected a string of drool to escape from his toothless mouth it was hanging open so wide. plainly, they did not receive large numbers of visitors. the one flickering taper was pitifully inadequate to light the lofty hall beyond. weighty tables sagged under tottering piles of books. shelves rose up high on every wall, lost in the fusty darkness

of this accumulation of ancient knowledge. dust sat thickly on every surface. one particularly monstrous cobweb became stickily tangled in jezal's hair as he passed over the threshold, and he flicked and wrestled at it, face wrinkled in distaste. 'the lady of the house,' wheezed the doorman in a strange accent, 'has already taken to her couch.' 'then wake her,' snapped

each other down the length of the table in a way which seemed calculated to make everyone uncomfortable. quai did nothing more than pick at his food, his dark eyes flicking intently between the two elderly magi. longfoot stuck into every course with relish, smiling round at the company as though they were all enjoying themselves equally. logen was holding his

you, and if each man does his part there will be ample glory too! we must work together if this plan is to bear fruit!' he burped and grimaced and licked his lips sourly, while the two generals and their staffs glowered at one another. west would almost have laughed, had men's lives not hung in the balance, his own among

find out.' he limped up a step, between towering columns and two more knights of the body, still and silent enough to have been empty suits of armour. his cane clicked on the polished marble floor of an echoing hallway, half lit by flickering candles, the high walls covered entirely with dim friezes. scenes of forgotten victories and achievements, one king

knights of the body, still and silent enough to have been empty suits of armour. his cane clicked on the polished marble floor of an echoing hallway, half lit by flickering candles, the high walls covered entirely with dim friezes. scenes of forgotten victories and achievements, one king after another pointing, brandishing weapons, reading proclamations, standing with their chests puffed out

frothing at the mouth, fists clenching and unclenching with fury, '… you crippled shred of a man! make him sign, then we can be done with this and get to licking arses in the open council!' glokta bowed his head still lower. 'of course, your eminence.' 'now is your perverse obsession with the truth going to cause me any more trouble

him… sign!' glokta shuffled out of his room, grumbling, stretching his neck to either side, rubbing his sore palms, working his aching shoulders round his ears and hearing the joints click. a difficult interrogation. severard was sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite, his head resting against the dirty wall. 'has he signed?' 'of course.' 'lovely. another mystery solved, eh, chief?' 'i

murmured jalenhorm, shading his eyes and squinting down the valley into the sun. 'are those… ?' 'eye-glass!' snapped burr, and a nearby officer produced one with a flourish. the marshal flicked it open. 'well, well. who's this now?' a rhetorical question, without a doubt. there was no one else it could be. 'bethod's northmen,' said jalenhorm, ever willing to state the

loud, as though that'd make him understood if they didn't talk the language. 'alright,' said threetrees. 'the division will be deploying along the high ground to your right!' and he flicked his stick thing towards the trees where his men were slowly and noisily getting ready. 'we will be waiting until bethod's forces are well engaged with general kroy's division, and

unnerved. there was a tense silence for a moment as the staff officer and the faceless convict stared at one another. then felnigg took a hesitant step back. he blinked, licked his lips nervously. 'busy. i see. well.' he took another step away. 'the reserves will be committed, you say?' 'immediately.' 'well then, well then… i will tell general kroy to

to him, no rush. he reached down and pulled the knife out of his side. it looked like a toy between his huge finger and thumb. like a tooth-pick. he flicked it away into the trees, a long drip of blood going with it. he lifted his great armoured foot, ready to stomp down on the dogman's head and crush his

shoving him over sideways. shivers, with a spear, jabbing at the giant and shouting, pushing him across the slope. the feared rolled and slithered up, faked a step back and flicked out his hand quick as a massive snake, slapped shivers away like a man might swat a fly, squawking and kicking into the mist. before the giant could follow him

girls and a boy. and what colour do you suppose their hair was?' you don't say. 'not flaming red, by any chance?' 'just like their mother.' 'she's got children?' glokta licked thoughtfully at his gums. 'who'd have thought it?' 'i know. i thought that bitch had a block of ice for a cunt.' that explains why she was so keen to

certainly pick a good chair. glokta settled back into the soft upholstery with a sigh, stretching his feet out towards the fire, working his aching ankles round and round in clicking circles. ardee did not seem quite so comfortable. but then this morning's diversion was hardly a comforting spectacle. she stood frowning out of the window, thoughtful, one hand pulling nervously

them will roll one way or another, you may depend on that.' 'will yours roll, do you think?' asked ardee, looking up at him from under her dark brows. glokta licked slowly at his gums. 'if sult's does, it may well be that mine will follow.' 'i hope not. you've been kind to me. kinder than anyone else. kinder than i

nearly scrambled over each other in their eagerness to get away, but quai's eyes were fixed on the preparations and he scarcely moved. logen sat cross-legged in front of the flickering fire, feeling the weight of worry in his stomach growing steadily heavier. he was starting to regret ever getting involved with this business, but it was a bit late now

did, in fact, look like nothing more than a stone. bayaz blinked. he shuffled closer, on his hands and knees. he peered down at the object in ferro's palms. he licked his lips, lifting his hand ever so slowly while jezal watched, his heart pounding in his ears. bayaz touched the rock with his little finger tip then jerked it instantly

it for himself. even in death, the maker denies me!' 'just a stone?' growled ferro. 'i gave up my chance to fight for my country,' murmured jezal, indignation starting to flicker up in his chest, 'and i slogged hundreds of miles across the wasteland, and i was beaten, and broken, and left scarred… for nothing?' 'the seed.' quai's pale lips were

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dug his remaining teeth into his empty gums, forced himself to keep pace with the others, the handle of his cane cutting into his palm, his spine giving an agonising click with every step. 'this is the lower city,' grumbled harker over his shoulder, 'where the native population are housed.' a giant, boiling, dusty, stinking slum. the buildings were mean and

deep water. 'do you disapprove?' glokta rubbed at his aching neck. 'not in the least. martyrdom suits you, but you'll have to forgive me if i don't join in.' he licked at his empty gums. 'i've made my sacrifices.' 'perhaps not all of them. ask your questions.' straight to business, then. nothing to hide? or nothing to lose? 'do you know

of asking questions, i have no doubt you've a bright future as a merchant.' 'a merchant? oh, i'm not that ruthless.' glokta placed his spoon in the empty bowl and licked at his gums. 'i mean no disrespect, but how does a woman come to head the most powerful guild in the union?' eider paused, as though wondering whether to answer

pound, would provide some dull flicker of pleasure. and yet he felt nothing. nothing but my own pain. he winced as he stretched his leg out and felt the knee click, hissed air through his empty gums. so why do i do this? glokta sighed. 'next will come a toe. then a finger, an eye, a hand, your nose, and so

would be gone. soon it will be night. he paused for a moment before the doors to the audience chamber, catching his breath, letting the ache in his leg subside, licking at his empty gums. 'give me the bag, then.' frost handed him the sack, put one white hand against the doors. 'you reathy?' he mumbled. ready as i'll ever be.

clenched fists. severard looked down on this brutal scene with a slight smile around his eyes, tuneless whistling vaguely audible over the choking, hissing, gurgling of eider's last breaths. glokta licked at his empty gums as he watched her thrashing on the cell floor. she has to die. there are no options. his eminence demands harsh punishment. his eminence demands examples

but no man entertains a thought of surrender. we will fight on. as always, your eminence, i serve and obey. sand dan glokta superior of dagoska. glokta held his breath, licking at his gums as he watched the dust clouds settling across the roofs of the slums through his eye-glass. the last crashes and clatters of falling stones faded, and dagoska,

you, and if you've got none at all you don't miss it.' he shook his head. 'but some men think it's the best thing in the world.' 'uh,' muttered glokta, licking at his empty gums. honour is worth less than one's legs, or one's teeth. a lesson i paid dearly for. he peered towards the shadowy outline of the land walls,

missing teeth. 'for every meagre shack, and crumbling hut, and worthless stretch of dust.' for my weeping eye, and my twisted back, and my repulsive shadow of a life. he licked at his empty gums. 'make them pay.' 'excellent! the only good gurkish are the dead ones!' the mercenary spun and marched through the door into the citadel, his spurs jingling,

done differently? i could have thrown in my lot with eider and the rest. given the city away to the gurkish without a fight. would that have changed anything? glokta licked sourly at his empty gums. the emperor would have set about his purges just the same. sult would have sent for me, just as he has done. little differences, hardly

adua. a mean, thin, ugly sort of rain on a hard wind off the sea, that rendered the treacherous wood of the gangplank, the squealing timbers of the wharf, the slick stones of the quay, all slippery as liars. he licked at his sore gums, rubbed at his sore thigh, swept his grimace up and down the grey shoreline. a pair

hard wind off the sea, that rendered the treacherous wood of the gangplank, the squealing timbers of the wharf, the slick stones of the quay, all slippery as liars. he licked at his sore gums, rubbed at his sore thigh, swept his grimace up and down the grey shoreline. a pair of surly-looking guardsmen were leaning against a rotten warehouse ten

some reason, was pale as death. 'clearly,' snapped glokta. 'that was them knocking at the door, i assume.' he dropped his spoon into his barely touched bowl of soup and licked sourly at his gums. a particularly disgusting excuse for a meal, this evening. i miss shickel's cooking, if not her attempts to kill me. 'well, who is it, man?' 'it's…

girls and a boy. and what colour do you suppose their hair was?' you don't say. 'not flaming red, by any chance?' 'just like their mother.' 'she's got children?' glokta licked thoughtfully at his gums. 'who'd have thought it?' 'i know. i thought that bitch had a block of ice for a cunt.' that explains why she was so keen to

them will roll one way or another, you may depend on that.' 'will yours roll, do you think?' asked ardee, looking up at him from under her dark brows. glokta licked slowly at his gums. 'if sult's does, it may well be that mine will follow.' 'i hope not. you've been kind to me. kinder than anyone else. kinder than i

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Last Argument Of Kings - Joe Abercrombie.txt

the poison trade ^ » superior glokta stood in the hall, and waited. he stretched his twisted neck out to one side and then to the other, hearing the familiar clicks, feeling the familiar cords of pain stretching out through the tangled muscles between his shoulder-blades. why do i do it, when it always hurts me? why must we test the

beneath the emperors prisons. he pressed his tongue into his empty gums and grunted as he shifted his leg, needles from it shooting up his back and making his eyelid flicker. i can be patient. the one good thing about every step being an ordeal. you soon learn how to tread carefully. the door beside him opened sharply and glokta snapped

'i could not say so with absolute certainty. high justice marovia was able to make threats almost identical to our own, through his man harlen morrow.' 'morrow? isn't he some lickspittle of hoffs?' 'it would seem he has moved up in the world.' or down, depending on how you look at it. 'he could be taken care of.' goyle wore a

the sea, then he lifted one side of his cloak to cover it, brought it down again. lifted it up, brought it down. one more time and he hooked it flickering back on the pole. seemed a tiny little flame right then, to warm all their hopes at. a tiny little flame, to be seen all the way out there on

a score of carls were pressed into the boat behind him, working the oars real careful, white faces tensed up, teeth gritted with the effort of keeping quiet. still, every click and clank of wood and metal set the dogman's nerves to jumping. shivers and his boys hung some sacks of straw over the side as they brought the boat in

and armed, tul duru in their midst. probably she never saw a man half so big. she turned around sharp to run the other way, almost slipping over on the slick cobbles. then she saw dow sitting on a pile of wood just behind her, leaning back easy against the wall, his drawn sword on his knees, and she froze stone

its open front gate. a soldier was bent over near that archway now, being noisily sick onto the stained flagstones. west passed him with some foreboding, the sound of his clicking boot heels echoing around the long tunnel, and emerged into the wide courtyard at the centre of the fortress. it was a regular hexagon, echoing the shape of the inner

over. 'better to do it, better to do it, better to do it…' his fist pounded against the wood. he stood and waited, heart thumping in his teeth. the latch clicked and jezal put on his most ingratiating smile. the door opened and a short, round-faced and highly unattractive girl stared at him from the doorway. there could be no doubt,

take him in her arms and kiss him. so close that he leaned forward slightly in anticipation, half-closing his eyes, his lips tingling… then she passed him, her hair nearly flicking in his face, and went on to the cabinet, opening it and taking out a decanter, leaving him behind, marooned on the carpet. in gormless silence he watched her fill

then when you come back you want to leave without even a kiss?' she took a lurching step at him and jezal found himself backing off. 'ardee, you're drunk.' she flicked her head with annoyance. 'i'm always drunk. didn't you say you missed me?' 'but,' he muttered, starting for some reason to feel slightly scared, 'i thought—' 'there's your problem, you

fistful of her dress and pulled it up, took another fistful and pulled it up, until her skirts were all tangled around her waist and her bare, pale arse was slicking up at him. well. he might have been a new man, but he was still a man. with each thrust her head tapped against the plaster, and his skin slapped

the floor behind her and it rattled on the carpet. the key to the door. 'you can go.' 'i can what?' 'go! you got what you wanted, didn't you?' he licked disbelieving at his bloody lip. 'you think this is what i wanted?' nothing but silence. 'i love you.' she gave a kind of cough, as if she was about to

that is a sad fact.' 'you carry a large responsibility, my lord.' glokta grimaced at a spasm in his leg, and cautiously stretched it out until he felt his knee click. 'how large, might i ask?' 'i have my own vote, of course, and control the votes of three other chairs on the open council. families tied to my own by

i thought you were cleverer than this.' 'cleverness is no guarantee of sensible behaviour. my father used to say so all the time.' she finished her wine with a practised flick of her head. 'don't worry. i can look after myself.' 'no you can't. you've made that abundantly clear. you realise what will happen if people find out? you'll be shunned.'

steal his daughter. tolomei was her name. her father threw her from the roof. in return for her betrayal, in opening his gates to you. am i wrong?' bayaz angrily flicked the last drops from his cup over the balcony. ferro watched them glitter in the bright sun, tumbling downwards. 'yes, ferro, the maker threw his daughter from the roof. it

her feet scuff against the boards and fill the room with their ugly scraping. she stopped on the way to gaze at a picture, to poke at a chair, to flick at a shiny pot, none of which interested her at all. all the while quai watched, and bayaz frowned, and sulfur grinned his knowing little grin. she stopped in the

my company.' she pressed her groin against his through the sheet, and worked her hips back and forward. 'ah, the captain is already at attention…' 'for you? constantly…' her mouth licked and sucked at his, smearing spit on his face, and he pushed his hand between her legs and she rubbed herself against it for a while, his sticky fingers squelching

hand. 'thanks, friend,' said logen as he took the bowl, 'but i know where to put it.' the lads all stared at him, a row of worried-looking faces, lit up flickering yellow on the far side of the fire, more suspicious than ever at him speaking their language. 'you talk common? you kept that quiet, didn't you?' 'best to seem less

seemed an awful shame that he'd have to set to killing before folk would give him so much as a nod. sharp looks came at him from out the dark, flicking away when he looked back. there was only one man, more or less, who met his eye. a big lad with long hair, halfway down the fire. 'who's that?' asked

bloody-nine.' logen nodded, slowly. 'well. you'll never be alone with that dream.' he caught other cold looks from across the flames, now. frowns in the shadows, grim faces in the flickering light. men he didn't even know, afraid to their bones, or nursing scores against him. a whole lot of fear and a whole lot of scores. he could count on

being kind, the place stank. it would seem that a few hundred live pigs do not smell so sweet as one would expect. the floor of the shadowy warehouse was slick with their stinking slurry, the thick air full of their desperate noise. they honked and squealed, grunted and jostled each other in their writhing pens, sensing, perhaps, that the slaughterman's

reasons to carry a blade in a slaughterhouse. but there can only ever be one reason to try and hide one. he glanced over his shoulder, wincing as his neck clicked. another man, much like the first, was creeping up from that direction. glokta raised his eyebrows. 'thugs? how very unoriginal.' 'unoriginal, perhaps, but i think you will find them quite

this might work.' 'i'm hurt,' muttered severard. 'wounded,' sang vitari, chain jingling in the darkness. 'deethly othended,' grunted frost, herding morrow back towards the pen. 'you should have stuck to licking hoffs big drunk arse. or maybe you should have stayed on the farm, with your pigs. tough work, perhaps, in the early morning, and so on. but it's a living.'

weeks in a black cell and a choking to the point of death? what form of repayment might that earn me? 'please, then,' hissed glokta through his gums, his eyelid flickering as he watched those blades snip, snip, snip. 'i can scarcely stand the suspense.' 'the gurkish are coming.' he paused for a moment, wrong-footed. 'coming here?' 'yes. to midderland. to

still forest. 'what is it, dogman? what d'you smell?' 'men, i reckon, but kind of sour, somehow.' he sniffed again. 'smells like—' an arrow flitted up out of the trees, clicked into the tree trunk just beside dogman and stuck there, quivering. 'shit!' he squealed, sliding down on his arse and fumbling his own bow off his shoulder, much too late

lot of enemies up in them hills, don't we, though? the moon knows i love a good fight, but coming at them great big rocks, with bethod and all his arse-lickers stuck in tight on top? that's a bit too much fight for anyone, eh? even your new southern friends.' he stopped just in front of them, fingerbones swinging and rattling.

its mother. how many things halfway good had he been offered in his life? and now he'd turned one down, and chosen to come back and settle some scores. he licked his teeth, and he spat sour spit out onto the earth. he should've known better. vengeance is never halfway as simple, or halfway as sweet, as you think it's going

of law, it looked like. and, indeed, it probably is. 'superior glokta, good evening.' marovia himself was seated at a long table near the empty fireplace, set for dinner, a flickering candelabra making each dish glisten in the gloom. 'i hope you do not mind if i eat while we talk? i would rather dine in the comfort of my rooms,

of a herd of swine. 'would you care to join me?' marovia gestured at a large joint of meat, close to raw in the centre, swimming in bloody gravy. glokta licked at his empty gums as he manoeuvred himself into a chair opposite. 'i would be delighted, your worship, but the laws of dentistry prevent me.' 'ah, of course. those laws

accompanied him on a journey?' 'i was the guide!' 'what was your destination?' 'the island of shabulyan, at the edge of the world.' glokta let the head of the hammer click against the anvil again. 'oh come, come. the edge of the world? a fantasy, surely?' 'truly! truly! i have seen it! i stood upon that island with my own feet!'

going round and round the issue. the more time he spent with her, the more impossible any decision seemed to become. glokta's fever-bright eyes swivelled to his, held them, then flicked away. jezal swallowed, with some difficulty. he had landed himself in a devil of a spot, alright. what ever was he to do? glokta gave luthar one brief glare. just

where we stand. then he swivelled in his chair, grimacing as he stretched out his throbbing leg, pressing his tongue hard into his empty gums as he felt the knee click. we have more important business than jezal dan luthar. far more important business. for this one day, the power lies with the open council, not the closed. with the nobles,

will it be an ill-deserved reprieve? glokta felt a smile twitch the corner of his mouth. or an altogether bloodier sentence? what say the gentlemen of the jury? his eyes flickered over the faces of the open council on their benches. three hundred and twenty faces. glokta pictured the papers nailed to the arch lector's wall, and he matched them to

twisted spine shivering from his arse right to his skull, made his face twitch like an angry jelly, made his few teeth rattle in his empty gums, set his eyelid flickering fast as a fly's wings. the echoes of bayaz' last utterance whispered round the suddenly silent hall. 'luthar, luthar, luthar…' you must be fucking joking. the pale faces of the

have all his wits all the time, but he's a bad enemy to have. one of the worst. you'll see the truth of that close up, when bethod and his arse-lickers come calling.' he looked up and saw logen coming through the night. 'i swear, and i don't doubt bethod would swear with me, there's only one bastard in all the

burr is dead. the army needs a new commander. argument on that issue will probably take up a good few hours. down here, your majesty.' 'hours?' muttered jezal, his boot-heels clicking down a set of wide marble steps. hours in the company of the closed council. he rubbed his hands nervously together. bayaz seemed to guess his thoughts. 'there is no

for a moment, and then realised. 'oh, please be seated.' the old men sat, a couple of them with evident winces of pain as old knees crunched and old backs clicked. bayaz dropped carelessly into the chair at the foot of the table, opposite jezal, as though he had been occupying it all his life. robes rustled as old arses shifted

for weeks.' bayaz chuckled. 'though i suspect that even harod would have balked at dealing a wound to his own high consul.' 'that was no tantrum!' snarled jezal, his temper flickering up again. if he was beset by horrible old men, then bayaz was himself the worst culprit by far. 'if i am a king i will be treated like one!

or were paid to do so.' 'paid?' gasped jezal. 'such support does not last forever. you must marry, and your wife must bring you powerful allies.' 'but i have…' jezal licked his lips, uncertain of how to broach the subject. 'some commitments… in that line.' 'ardee west?' jezal half opened his mouth to ask bayaz how he knew so much about

no one? keeping no secrets? caring no more for innocence or guilt, for truth or for lies, than do these little lumps of rock. the gems twinkled in the candlelight, clicking against each other, tickling at his fingers as he pushed them through one way, and back the other. but his eminence would weep and weep at my sudden disappearance. so,

i was, but the timing never seemed quite right. a small matter, after all—no more than a king's ransom. his fingers fumbled with the jewels, and in his haste he flicked one astray and it dropped sparkling to the floor with a sharp click, click. another knock, louder this time, the heavy lock shuddering from the force of it. 'open up!'

all—no more than a king's ransom. his fingers fumbled with the jewels, and in his haste he flicked one astray and it dropped sparkling to the floor with a sharp click, click. another knock, louder this time, the heavy lock shuddering from the force of it. 'open up!' 'i'm just coming!' he forced himself down onto his hands and knees with

more than a king's ransom. his fingers fumbled with the jewels, and in his haste he flicked one astray and it dropped sparkling to the floor with a sharp click, click. another knock, louder this time, the heavy lock shuddering from the force of it. 'open up!' 'i'm just coming!' he forced himself down onto his hands and knees with a

his head hanging over to one side, his eyes scarcely open as he watched glokta work his painful way into a chair opposite. his skin was soapy pale in the flickering light from the single mean candle flame, dark pouches under his eyes, dark shadows shifting over his pinched and pointed face. the rash on his neck had grown angrier, and

a use for your particular talents, before too long.' 'i cannot say that i would turn you down.' cosca tipped his bottle up and stuck his tongue into the neck, licking out the last trickle. 'my purse is empty as a dry well. so empty, in fact, that i don't even have a purse.' there, at least, i am able to

purse.' there, at least, i am able to assist. glokta checked that they were not observed, then tossed something across the rough table top and watched it bounce with a click and a spin to a halt in front of cosca. the mercenary picked it up between finger and thumb, held it to the candle flame and stared at it through

snatched it from his hand while kroy struggled unsuccessfully to look over his shoulder. 'no,' breathed poulder, evidently having reached the end. kroy wrestled the dispatch away and his eyes flickered over it. 'this must be a mistake!' but the knight herald did not think so. 'the closed council are not in the habit of making mistakes. you have the king's

a thing as a ladder with 'em. how long do you reckon we wait, before we—' 'uh,' grunted grim, his long finger pointing down into the valley. logen saw a flicker of movement down there. and again. he swallowed. a couple of men, maybe, creeping through the boulders like beetles through gravel. he felt the men tense up all around him,

marks and brought flatheads squealing down in a tangle of black limbs. men reached for more, calm and solid, the best archers in the whole crew and knowing it. bows clicked and shafts twittered and shanka died down in the valley, and the archers took aim, nice and easy, loosing 'em off and on to the next. dogman heard the order

valley, and the archers took aim, nice and easy, loosing 'em off and on to the next. dogman heard the order from down below and he saw the twitch and flicker of shafts flying from the walls. more flatheads dropped, thrashing and struggling in the dirt. 'easy as squashing ants in a bowl!' someone shouted. 'aye!' growled the dogman, 'except ants

patched with thick hair and squirming with thick sinew. now came the flattened top of its bald head, a hulking lump of heavy brow, great jaw yawning wide, sharp teeth slick with spit. the deep set eyes met his. logen's sword split its skull down to its flat stub of nose and popped one eye from its socket. men shot arrows

long breath. 'still alive,' he whispered. logen sat sharpening his knives, the firelight flashing on the blades as he turned them this way and that, stroking them with the whetstone, licking his fingertip and wiping a smudge away, getting them nice and clean. you could never have too many, and that was a fact. he grinned as he remembered what ferro's

away in the dark, and their own ones, bonfires built up and lit just below the wall to try and catch any clever bastards trying to sneak up. they cast flickering circles across the shadowy rocks, with here or there the twisted corpse of a flathead, hacked and flung from the wall or stuck with arrows. logen felt someone move behind

his neck. blood bubbled out of his nose and his mouth and ran down the side of his face in dark streaks. 'following me now?' 'i just watch.' his voice clicked in his bloody mouth. 'i just watch. i don't give the orders.' the gurkish soldiers did not give the orders to kill ferro's people and make her a slave. that

failed quest for this seed. after all, his eminence is waiting, and is not known for his patience. he stretched his neck out to either side and felt the bones clicking between his twisted shoulder-blades. he pressed his tongue into his gums and shuffled away from the steps, into the cool darkness of the stacks. they had not changed much in

keep an open mind on the subject.' 'an open mind is like to an open wound, apt to—' 'so i have heard, but we are speaking of hell.' the librarian licked at his sagging lips. 'legend has it that there was a time when our world and the world below were one, and devils roamed the earth. great euz cast them

will it be bath-time again, and this time my last? her flat yellow eyes gave nothing away. empty, like the eyes of an animal. but what are my choices? he licked the blood from his lips, and leaned back against the wall. i might as well die a little wiser. 'what is the seed?' her frown deepened by the smallest fraction.

worm.' she snorted. 'there at least we can agree.' 'there are those in my government who worry about the direction in which he might take us. who worry profoundly.' glokta licked at one bloody tooth. 'where is he taking us?' 'he tells me nothing. i do not trust him, and he does not trust me.' 'there too we can agree.' 'he

and tear the timbers apart. 'if we don't deal with them, they'll have those gates in!' dogman shouted hoarse into the wet air. 'uh,' said grim, nodding his head, water flicking off his shaggy thatch of hair. took a good bit of bellowing and pointing from him and tul, but dogman got a crowd of his lads lined up by the

off his shaggy thatch of hair. took a good bit of bellowing and pointing from him and tul, but dogman got a crowd of his lads lined up by the slick parapet. three score wet bows, all lowered at once, all drawn back creaking, all pointing down towards that gate. three score men, frowning and taking aim, all dripping with water

one skull with it, and logen's would be next. then bethod would've won, at last. logen felt a cold feeling stab at his gut. a hard, empty feeling. his knuckles clicked as the muscles in his hand went rigid, gripping the sword painful tight. 'no!' he hissed. 'no, no, no.' but he might as well have said no to the rain.

like those bastards had enough,' came crummock's laughing voice from out of the drizzle. the hillman tipped his head back, mouth open, stuck his tongue out into the rain, then licked his lips. 'that was some good work you put in today, bloody-nine. not that it ain't my special pleasure to watch you at it, but i'm glad to get my

and surveyed the result. so did half a dozen of his fellows. one of them stepped forward to tweak the precise positioning of jezal's gold-embroidered sleeve. another grimaced as he flicked an infinitesimal speck of dust from his pure white collar. 'very good,' said bayaz, nodding thoughtfully to himself. 'i believe that you are ready for your wedding.' the peculiar thing,

larger yet by the great mirrors which covered every wall, creating the disconcerting impression of dozens of other magnificent weddings, in dozens of other adjoining ballrooms. a multitude of candles flickered and waved on the tables, and in the sconces, and among the crystal chandeliers high above. their soft light shone on the silverware, glittered on the jewels of the guests,

you wish, your majesty.' as they made their way towards the middle of the wide floor, the chatter gradually diminished. the chamber of mirrors grew deathly quiet aside from the clicking of his polished boots, and her polished shoes, on the glistening stone. jezal swallowed as they took their places, surrounded on three sides by the long tables, and the legions

seven days, and they were all at each other's throats. all angry, all tired. seven days. the one consolation was that there couldn't be many more. 'they're coming.' dogman's eyes flicked sideways. like most of the few things grim said, it hardly needed saying. they could all see it as clearly as the sun rising. bethod's carls were on the move.

slow and steady, knelt down and aimed their flatbows. another flight of bolts came hissing up. men ducked and threw themselves down. one zipped right past the dogman's head and clicked off the rock face behind. pure luck he didn't get pinned with it. a couple of the others were less lucky. one lad was lying on his back, a pair

squelching and straining in the mud all around him. crawling through a dark, terrifying, shifting forest of legs, the screams of pain and rage filtering down from above with the flickering light. feet kicked at him, stomped on him, battered at every part of him. he tried to struggle up and a boot in the mouth sent him limp again. he

a great cloud of dust was coming up, a brown haze. underneath, glittering in the morning sun, the armour of horsemen. his hand clamped tight round grim's wrist, hope suddenly flickering alive again. 'fucking union!' he breathed, hardly daring to believe it. west squinted through his eye-glass, lowered it and peered up the valley, squinted through it again. 'you're sure?' 'yes,

what became of those three heroes. logen heard a great roar, faint, and far away. light came at his half-closed eyes, as though the fight was opened up wide. shadows flickered. a great boot squelched in the filth in front of his face. voices bellowed, far above. he felt himself grabbed by the shirt, dragged through the mud, feet and legs

heard sounds, clashing and rattling, coming at him from all sides, and the sounds themselves hurt him, made his jaw burn all the worse, unbearable. 'get…' the air rasped and clicked, but no sound would come. it wasn't his voice any longer. he reached out, with his last strength, and he put his palm against tul's chest, and he tried to

the clerks working at their neat stacks of documents, at their neat desks arranged in neat rows. there the acolytes, inducted into the lowest mysteries of the church. his eyes flickered to those waiting. merchants and moneylenders, shopkeepers and shysters, traders and tricksters in long queues, or waiting nervously on hard chairs around the hard walls. fine clothes, perhaps, but anxious

out with the documents. or is it merely a receipt for ten bits, refused? who can say? the door was pulled softly and precisely shut with the gentlest of smooth clicks. mauthis paused only to align his pen precisely with the edge of his desk, then he looked up at glokta. 'i am truly grateful that you have answered promptly.' glokta

i cannot do one or the other, i have a pressing appointment to have my throat cut and be tossed in the sea. mauthis' face did not so much as flicker. 'once again, i find that my superiors are not best pleased with the direction of your investigations.' is that so? 'your superiors are people of deep pockets and shallow patience.

favours, when i signed the damn receipt. now they make demands? where does it end?' 'that is not for me to say, superior. or for you to ask.' mauthis' eyes flickered towards the door. he leaned across his desk and spoke soft and low. 'but if my own experience is anything to go by… it will not end. my employers have

jagged chuckle. 'in which case i doubt he'll be with us much longer, eh, marshal? eh, sergeant pike?' he grinned as he drew his finger sharply across his belly and clicked his tongue. 'the bloody cross for him, i shouldn't wonder! isn't that what they do, these savages? the bloody cross, isn't it?' west did not see the funny side. 'ensure

say a word. he wasn't sure what had happened, in the battle, but he could guess. he could guess well enough, from the bits he did remember. he glanced around, licking at his split lips, but if anyone else guessed, they kept it to themselves. 'no one going to say a word?' asked dogman again, his voice cracking. 'guess it best

held up in one hand, harsh light across one side of his heavy, worried face. from somewhere down the hall came the sound of echoing footsteps, of confused shouting, the flickering of distant lamps. jezal frowned, suddenly wide awake. he did not like the feel of this. 'your majesty,' said gorst. 'what the hell is going on?' 'the gurkish have invaded

her knife and held it up. 'you will answer my questions, or i will kill you with this knife. that is who i am. where is the gurkish army?' he licked his lips. 'perhaps… two days march away, to the south.' 'how many?' 'more than i could count. many thousands. people of the deserts, and the plains, and the—' 'what route

himself sit up tall, pretending he wasn't cut and aching all over from seven days of battle in the mountains. he wondered if he was about to hear a flatbow click, feel the stab of pain then drop into the mud, dead. some kind of an embarrassing song that would make. 'well, well, well!' came a deep voice, and logen knew

nothing to lift the mood. 'with the best part of our navy on its way to retrieve the army after its northern adventure, we are powerless to stop them.' jezal licked his lips. the walls of the wide room seemed to close in further with every moment. 'what of our troops?' varuz and reutzer exchanged a brief glance. 'we have two

and most disastrous reign in union history. 'i am sorry that i had to send for your majesty,' piped gorst, in his girlish little voice. 'of course, of course.' the clicking of jezal's polished boot-heels echoed angrily around them. 'there is only so much that i can do.' 'of course.' jezal shoved open the double doors with both hands. terez sat

in the sunny courtyard. ardee's one-sided smile. it all seemed a thousand years ago. the northmen were already busy, clipping at the grass in the shadow of the walls, the clicking of their shears a strange echo of the gardeners in the agriont, shaving a circle a dozen strides across down to the roots. the ground, he supposed, on which the

sack rattling down and it sagged open. inside were great black plates, spiked and studded, scarred and battered. 'this armour.' logen looked at that vast weight of dark iron, and licked his teeth. if the feared won the spin he could take the sword and leave logen with a pile of useless armour way too big for him. what would he

could've said he hadn't earned it. a fitting end for the bloody-nine, torn apart in the circle. but the great arms didn't pull any further. out the corner of one flickering eye, logen could just see bethod leaning against the battlements. the king of the northmen waved his hand, round and round, in a slow wheel. logen remembered what it meant.

am waiting,' he said. the great fists lashed at the bloody-nine's face, the great hands snatched at his body. but all the giant caught was laughter. easier to strike the flickering fire. easier to catch the rolling smoke. the circle was an oven. the blades of yellow grass were tongues of yellow flame beneath it. the sweat, spit, blood dripped onto

to make sure he got it right first time, and didn't embarrass himself again. 'here we go…' 'now!' she hissed at him. 'just get it—' the axe blade made a clicking sound as it split her head neatly down the middle, all the way to her chin. blood sprayed out and spattered in dogman's gawping face, and the witch's thin body

king o' the northmen!' pale-as-snow was down on one knee beside him, spots of bethod's blood sprayed across the white fur on his coat. he always had been one to lick whatever arse was nearest, but he wasn't alone. they were all kneeling, up on the walls and down on the grass. the dogman's carls and bethod's. the men who'd held

of yellow, to brown. teeth with bloody roots and with shreds of flesh attached. a couple tumbled from the far end of the table and bounced from the grimy tiles, clicked away into the corners of the narrow room. farrad gaped down in horror at the bloody mess of dentistry before him. and even the very prince of teeth can never

sult swept into the room, three of his huge practicals looming silently in the doorway behind him. 'you may ask your freak of nature to leave us.' frost's eyes narrowed, flickered over the other practicals, then back to sult. 'very good, practical frost,' said glokta hastily. 'you may remove our prisoner.' the albino unlocked farrad's manacles and dragged the dentist from

sweating arse of the brave and righteous master farrad. he brushed some of the teeth from the table-top before him with the side of one gloved hand and sent them clicking onto the floor. and he could not have seemed to care less had they been breadcrumbs. 'there is a deadly conspiracy afoot within the agriont. have we made progress in

the dead.' 'what now?' logen stared at that chair. 'south, i reckon.' 'south,' grunted grim, giving no clue whether he thought it was a good idea or a bad. logen licked at the ragged flesh at the side of his mouth, checking again, for no reason that made any sense, just how much it hurt. 'calder and scale are still out

the sun?' 'south.' logen worked one sore shoulder beside his sore neck, and then the other. 'you coming?' crummock pushed himself away from the wall and walked forward, finger bones clicking round his thick neck. 'no, no, no, not me. i've relished our time together, so i have, but everything's got an end, don't it. i've been away from my mountains

a king whose grip on his recently won crown might be thought of as slippery at best. so he stood tall, pointed his scarred chin as high as he dared, flicked out his gilt-edged cloak with one gauntleted hand. he strode through the crowd with the confident swagger he had always used to have, one hand resting on the jewelled pommel

the bastard.' it was pointless to deny it. 'that's right. the bastard. why don't you come in, general? then we can speak face to face, like civilised men.' malzagurt's eyes flickered across to glokta. 'forgive me, but the response of your government to unarmed emissaries of the emperor has not always been… civilised. i think i will remain outside the walls.

long life that god is the forgiving kind.' mamun turned his horse away from the gates and rode slowly back towards the gurkish lines, through the abandoned buildings, flames already licking hungrily at their walls. jezal took a long, ragged breath as his eyes flicked up to the mass of men moving through the fields. damn his mouth, it got him

the gates and rode slowly back towards the gurkish lines, through the abandoned buildings, flames already licking hungrily at their walls. jezal took a long, ragged breath as his eyes flicked up to the mass of men moving through the fields. damn his mouth, it got him in all kinds of trouble. but it was a little late now for second

he see the funny side, i wonder? would we chuckle over it together? he reached out and held the corner of the letter to the twisting candle flame, watched fire flicker up the side, creep out through the writing, white paper curling up into black ashes. burn, as my hopes, and my dreams, and my glorious future burned beneath the emperor's

the mercers were financed by a bank. a very wealthy and powerful bank. valint and balk.' glokta watched carefully for a reaction, but marovia's eyes did not so much as flicker. 'i am aware of the existence of such an institution.' 'i suspected that they were implicated in the mercers' crimes. magister kault told me as much before his unfortunate demise.

'his eminence would not part with a single mark. but an unlikely benefactor stepped forward in my time of need.' 'a rich uncle? what a happy chance.' 'not entirely.' glokta licked at the salty space where his front teeth had once been. and the secrets begin to spill like turds from a draining latrine-pit. 'my rich uncle was none other than

is no time for sentiment. the enemy are closing on arnault's wall. in places they might be within two miles of where we stand.' 'two miles?' murmured jezal, his eyes flickering nervously towards the west again. arnault's wall was a fine grey line through the buildings, looking a terribly frail sort of a barrier from up here, and worryingly close. a

in the streets, and through the houses. for twelve days in the cold sunlight, in the spitting rain, in the choking smoke, and for twelve nights by the light of flickering fires, ferro had been in the thick of it. her boots slapped against the polished tiles, leaving black marks down the immaculate hallway behind her. ash. the two districts where

for mamun alone.' yulwei slowly unfolded himself from the chair, stood with a sigh. 'very well, lead on. i will enter the maker's house with you, one last time.' ferro licked her teeth. the idea of going inside was irresistible. 'i will come with you.' bayaz glared back. 'no, you will not. you can stay here and sulk. that has always

not stop you.' 'you could not if you wanted to. i would bid you a good day. but i'd wager you've never had one.' and he sauntered out, the door clicking to behind him. ferro was already across the room, shooting back the bolt on the window. she had done as bayaz told her once before, and it had brought her

word?' bayaz' lip curled. 'i think not. which of khalul's creatures are you? the east wind? one of those damned twins?' 'i am not one of khalul's creatures.' the faintest flicker of doubt passed over bayaz' face. 'who, then?' 'we knew each other well, in times long past.' the first of the magi frowned. 'who are you? speak!' 'taking forms.' a

faded past. a ghost that had walked beside them for months, wearing a stolen shape. ferro could almost feel her icy breath, cold as death on the air. her eyes flickered from that pale face to the archway, far away across the floor, caught between wanting to run, and needing to know more. 'i saw you in your grave!' whispered bayaz.

into an icy smile. 'for all you took from me. for my father.' she raised her foot above bayaz' bald head. 'for myself—' she burst into brilliant flames. harsh light flickered to the furthest corners of the cavernous chamber, brightness stabbed into the very cracks between the stones. ferro stumbled back, holding one hand over her eyes. between her fingers she

hissing words froze across ferro's face, snatching her breath out in a sick groan, her skin burning where tolomei held her. she felt her bones twist, then snap, her forearm clicking sideways like a broken stick. a white hand crept through the shadows towards the lump in ferro's shirt. there was a sudden light, a brilliant curve of it that lit

there have been storms off angland. we must face the possibility that the army will be delayed.' 'black luck,' murmured bremer dan gorst from the other side, his narrow eyes flickering endlessly over the ruins for the slightest sign of any threat. jezal chewed worriedly at the salty remnant of his thumbnail. he could scarcely remember the last shred of good

'dogman, i would like you and your northmen to support general kroy's division in their attack. if your…' west wrestled with the word, '… king has no objections.' the dogman licked his sharp teeth. 'reckon he'll go whichever way the wind blows. that's always been his style.' 'the wind blows towards adua tonight.' 'aye.' the northman nodded. 'towards adua, then.' 'general

and what sounded like a hard reckoning with the gurkish. logen and his crew were on the northernmost one. off to the south he could see a faint line of flickering lights, floating disembodied in the black country, stretching away out of sight. another column. another few thousand men, cursing through the mud towards a bloody dawn. logen frowned. he saw

of sight. another column. another few thousand men, cursing through the mud towards a bloody dawn. logen frowned. he saw the side of shivers' lean face, up ahead, by the flickering light of a torch, a scowl full of hard shadows, one eye glinting. they watched each other for a moment, then shivers turned his back, hunched up his shoulders and

waving with his movements. glokta peered into the murk. 'cosca?' 'the very same!' laughed the styrian. he was affecting a fine leather cap with a ludicrously tall plume, and he flicked at it with a finger. 'i bought a new hat. or should i say you bought me one, eh, superior?' 'so i see.' glokta glared at the long feather, the

showed his practical the yawning hole in his front teeth. 'well. i suppose that all depends whose side you're on.' the last traces of severard's smile had vanished. his eyes flickered nervously around the yard. the eyes of the guilty. how well we know them. we see them on our prisoners. we see them in the mirror, when we dare to

frost. you know the way.' 'downthairth. unh.' the hulking albino dragged severard's limp body over his shoulder and set off towards the front door. 'i have to say,' said cosca, flicking the scum carelessly off his finger, 'that i like your way with your men, superior. discipline, i've always admired it.' 'fine advice from the least disciplined man in the circle

she swallowed. 'alright.' 'superior, please!' one despairing arm stuck from longfoot's cell, 'please, when will you release me? superior, please!' glokta shut the door on his begging with a gentle click. we have other business today, and it will not wait. frost already had severard manacled to the chair beside the table, still unconscious, and was lighting the lamps one by

tonight, i suspect. 'urr,' groaned severard, his lank hair swaying. glokta lowered himself slowly into his chair, the leather creaking under him. severard grunted again, his head dropped back, eyelids flickering. frost lumbered over, reached out and undid the buckles on severard's mask, pulled it off and tossed it away into the corner of the room. from a fearsome practical of

other arm around severard's shoulders in a tight embrace. 'i think we can dispense with the preamble.' glokta rocked forward, got up and limped slowly around the table, his cane clicking on the tiles, his left leg dragging behind it, the corner of the cleaver's blade scraping gently across the wood of the table-top. 'i need not explain how this will

like they asked, and i told them… i told them…' severard stuttered to a halt, staring at the remains of his fingers, scattered out across the table in a spreading slick of blood. that mixture of unbearable pain, even more unbearable loss, and total disbelief. am i dreaming? or have i really lost half my fingers, forever? glokta nudged severard with

him myself because i have no other choice. then who? glokta's eyes met frost's. pink eyes, unblinking. they stared at him, bright and hard as pink gemstones. and the wheels clicked into place. i see. neither one of them spoke. frost reached out, without much haste, his eyes never leaving glokta's, and wrapped both his thick arms around severard's neck. the

been made to his precise instructions by the same man who had made the case for his instruments. and is an even finer piece of craftsmanship. there was a gentle click as the wood sprang open on secret hinges and dropped away revealing a two-foot needle of mirror-bright metal. he let go a piercing shriek. jab, jab, glokta. jab, jab. the

too, scurrying for safety through the narrow lanes. men, women, children, the old and the young, driven from their ruined homes. people to whom he had promised safety. his eyes flickered across the high white buildings around the green park, the wide square of marshals, the long kingsway with its tall statues. they were filled, he knew, with the helpless and

flitted up and down. the wounded fell, did their best to crawl for the rear. one of the buildings at the side of the square had already caught fire, flames licking hungrily round the eaves of its roof. 'the army!' someone whooped from the opposite battlement. 'marshal west!' 'indeed.' marovia frowned down at the carnage below, the sounds of battle growing

below, the sounds of battle growing steadily more frantic. 'let us hope he has not come too late.' the noise of fighting crept up through the cool air. clashing and clicking, echoing calls. logen glanced left and right at the men around him, jogging forward over the open fields, quick breath hissing, gear rattling, all blunt frowns and sharp weapons. hardly

they had come, down the dank stairway towards the sewers, rounded a corner and was gone. 'tell me you brought the things,' said glokta. 'i'm untrustworthy, superior. not incompetent.' cosca flicked a hand at the mercenaries. 'time, my friends. let's black up.' as a unit they pulled out black masks and buckled them on, pulled off their ragged coats, their torn

a choice of colours,' he explained. 'in case one should be called upon to change sides in a pinch.' the very definition of a turncoat. he took off his hat, flicked at the filthy feather. 'can i keep it?' 'no.' 'you're a hard man, superior.' he grinned as he tossed the cap away into the shadows. 'and i love you for

face. a bony inquisitor coming the other way gave him a long look. 'is there a problem?' he snarled back. the man lowered his head and hurried past without speaking. click, tap, pain. the dim hallway slid by with agonising slowness. every step was an ordeal, now, but he forced himself on, legs burning, foot throbbing, neck aching, sweat running down

his men follow glokta through the door, was horror. now we're getting so mew here. 'you!' he hissed. 'but you're—' 'slaughtered? change of plans, i'm afraid. where's sult?' goyle's eyes flickered around the room, over the dwarfish mercenary, the one with a hook for a hand, the one with the hideous boils, and came to rest on cosca, swaggering round the

and thumb. 'mind where you aim with the hammer, though, eh?' 'don't worry. i am quite precise.' an awful lot of practice. 'wait!' screeched goyle. the hammer made three metallic clicks, almost disappointingly quiet, as it drove the nail cleanly between the bones of goyle's forearm and into the table beneath. he roared with pain, spraying bloody spit over the table.

this is the closest i've come to enjoying myself in six years. don't begrudge me my little moment. i get so very few of them.' glokta raised the hammer. 'wait!' click. goyle roared with pain again. click. and again. click. the nail was through, and the one-time scourge of angland's penal colonies was pinned flat by both arms. i suppose that's

to enjoying myself in six years. don't begrudge me my little moment. i get so very few of them.' glokta raised the hammer. 'wait!' click. goyle roared with pain again. click. and again. click. the nail was through, and the one-time scourge of angland's penal colonies was pinned flat by both arms. i suppose that's where ambition gets you without the

in six years. don't begrudge me my little moment. i get so very few of them.' glokta raised the hammer. 'wait!' click. goyle roared with pain again. click. and again. click. the nail was through, and the one-time scourge of angland's penal colonies was pinned flat by both arms. i suppose that's where ambition gets you without the talent. humility is

there is no other way of knowing, and now…' 'yes?' 'he says he has found a way to bring them through!' 'them?' 'the tellers of secrets, he calls them!' glokta licked at his dry lips. 'demons?' i thought his eminence had no patience with superstition, when all this time… the nerve of the man! 'he can send them against his enemies,

goyle's arm, but glokta's thoughts were elsewhere. he stared out towards the university, its spires looming up through the smoky murk like clawing fingers. occult experiments? summonings and sendings? he licked sourly at his empty gums. what is going on in there? 'what is going on out there?' jezal strode up and down the roof of the tower of chains in

held out one gauntleted hand towards the stairs. 'this way.' 'this way,' growled glokta, limping up the hall as swiftly as his ruined feet would carry him, cosca ambling after. click, tap, pain. only one secretary remained outside the office of the high justice, peering disapprovingly over his twinkling eye-glasses. no doubt the rest have donned ill-fitting armour and are manning

the dogman. logen wished he had an answer. fighting in forests, in mountains, in valleys, they'd done it all a hundred times, and knew the rules, but this? his eyes flickered nervously over the gaping windows and doorways, the piles of fallen stones. so many places for an enemy to hide. all logen could do was aim at the house of

of it. 'the palace, your majesty.' he ushered jezal away towards the park without a backward glance, the rest of the royal bodyguard clattering after. fragments of stone began to click off the roofs around them, to bounce from the road, to ping from the armour of the knights of the body. 'they are coming,' muttered marovia, staring grimly off towards

at him together, one shouting a shrill battle-cry. the eater shrugged effortlessly around their swords, came forward in a sudden blur, caught one of the union men with a careless flick of his open hand. there was a hollow clang as it caved in his shield and breastplate both, lifted him flailing into the air. he crunched down some twenty strides

an improvement suggested by kanedias' researches. glustrod used raw salt. that was his mistake.' mamun looked up, the icy calmness vanished from his face. 'you cannot mean…' his black eyes flickered to ferro, then down to her hand, clenched tight around the seed. 'no! the first law—' 'the first law?' the magus showed his teeth. 'rules are for children. this is

flash of metal, the jingling of a chain, and the practical staggered forward, blood pouring from his opened throat. vitari's cross-shaped knife slapped back into her palm and her eyes flicked back to glokta. 'an understanding?' 'exactly. you stay here. we go past. you didn't see nothing, as they say in the older parts of town. you know well enough that

on the path before the gate, crushed and broken as though they'd been smashed with a giant hammer. one was sliced clean in half, the two pieces lying in a slick of dark blood. a man stood in the midst of all this. he had white armour on, speckled and dusted with red. a wind had blown up in the gardens,

man stood in the midst of all this. he had white armour on, speckled and dusted with red. a wind had blown up in the gardens, and his black hair flicked around his face, dark skin smooth and flawless as a baby's. he was frowning down at a body near his feet, but he looked up at logen as he came

to the door. he could hear something from beyond, a muffled droning in a language he did not recognise. the adeptus demonic calls upon the denizens of the abyss? he licked his lips, the image of high justice marovia's frozen remains fresh in his mind. it would be rash to plunge straight through, however keen we are to put our questions

in the centre of the circles. the air was trembling, like the air above a bonfire, more and more as silber's harsh voice droned on. glokta stood frozen, his eyes flicking between the old adepti. what to do? stop him, or don't stop him? stop him, or— 'allow me!' cosca stepped forwards, delving into his black coat with his spare left

shoulder. 'what did i tell you? have you ever seen a knife thrown better?' blood ran down the side of silber's face in a red trickle. his eyes rolled upwards, flickered, then he sagged sideways, dragging over his lectern, and crashed to the floor. his book tumbled down on top of him, aged pages flapping, the lamp spilled over and sprayed

to the seed a moment longer. then the voices would give her vengeance. bayaz was a liar, she had known it from the start. she owed him nothing. her eyelids flickered, closed, her mouth hung open. the noise of the wind grew fainter yet, until she could hear only the voices. whispering, soothing, righteous. 'we will take the world and make

just stood, listening to the wall. 'me and luthar, both. a pair of kings. can you think of two more worthless bastards to put crowns on, eh?' no answer. logen licked his lips. no choice but to get straight to it, maybe. 'ferro. the way things turned out. the way we… left it.' he took a step towards her, and another.

might even suddenly notice the strings around their own wrists. sult caught a glimpse of something, behind the curtain, and only look at the trouble he caused for everyone.' bayaz flicked one of the pieces over and it clattered onto its side, rocked gently back and forth. 'let us suppose you are indeed the great architect, and you have given us…'

before.' glokta slowly nodded. 'jezal dan luthar.' our little bastard. 'your friend and mine.' but a bastard is no use unless… 'crown prince raynault stood in the way.' the magus flicked a piece over and it rolled slowly from the board and rattled to the table. 'we talk of great events. there is sure to be some wastage.' 'you made it

daubed on his robe.' and so an innocent man went to the gallows, and the war between gurkhul and the union blossomed. two obstacles swept neatly away with one sharp flick of the broom. 'peace with the gurkish did not suit my purposes. it was sloppy of sulfur to leave such blatant clues. but then he never expected you to care

from the world. the lessons of the old time fade into the darkness of history. a new age dawns.' the magus made a careless movement with one hand and something flickered into the air, clattered to the centre of the board and spun round and round until it lay flat, with the unmistakable sound of falling money. a golden fifty-mark piece,

they clear away the rubble and the corpses, of course. 'to shape the course of a nation.' 'under your direction.' 'naturally. nothing is free, you know that.' again the magus flicked his hand and something clattered spinning across the squares board. it came to rest in front of glokta, gold glinting. the arch lector's ring. so many times i bent to

he carefully lowered himself into his chair. there was no fanfare to mark the moment when his aching arse touched the hard wood. no round of applause. only a sharp clicking in his burning knee. and yet it is a moment of the greatest significance, and not only for me. the designers of the white chamber's furniture had ventured beyond austerity

so that jezal dan luthar can sit a hair more secure on his puppet throne? he twisted his hips one way and then the other until he felt his back click. she deserves so much better. but such is the terrible arithmetic of power. he pushed back the gate, hobbled up to the front door, and gave it a smart knock.

past months i have developed a great liking and respect for you.' a flurry of twitches ran up the side of his face and made a tear leak from his flickering eye. now, now. 'or… as close to such feelings as a man like myself can come, at least.' glokta slid his hand into his pocket, carefully, so she would not

drew closer still. he had to force himself to stay where he was. she looked into his eyes. she reached up, slowly, and touched his cheek, and set his eyelid flickering. foolishness. how many women have touched me before? and yet that was another life. another— her hand slid round his face, her fingertips pressing tight into his jaw. his neck

foolishness. how many women have touched me before? and yet that was another life. another— her hand slid round his face, her fingertips pressing tight into his jaw. his neck clicked as she pulled him close. he felt her breath warm on his chin. her lips brushed against his, gently, and back the other way. he heard her make a soft

cling tight to his cane. the breath hissed fast through his nose. her face was sideways on to his, their mouths locked together, sucking wetly. the tip of her tongue licked at his empty gums. pretence, of course, what else could it be ? and yet she does it so very, very well… * * * the first law « ^

the chatter. 'you only borrow your lands from him. he regrets that he requires some portion of them back, but such is the spur of necessity.' 'a quarter.' the cripple licked at his empty gums with a faint sucking sound. 'from each one of you.' 'this will not stand!' shouted an angry old man in the front row. 'you think not,

on that side of it, where it is safe, and warm, and loyal. the other side will not suit you so well, i think.' a long tear ran from his flickering left eye and down his hollow cheek. 'the surveyor general will be assessing your estates over the coming months. it would be wise for you all to lend him your

stared down at the floor. 'what am i to do?' glokta worked his neck to one side, then the other, and jezal suppressed a shudder as he heard a loud click. 'let me speak to the queen, your majesty. i can be quite persuasive when i have the mind. i understand your difficulties. i am myself but recently married.' jezal dreaded

to return.' the crushing pressure on his face released and jezal heard the magus' footsteps tap away to the far side of the room. the door creaked open, and then clicked firmly shut. he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his breath heaving quickly in and out. after a while he drew up the courage to roll over, dragged

over, dragged himself dizzily up to his hands and knees. there was an unpleasant stink, and not just from the vomit smeared across his face. he realised with a meagre flicker of shame that he had soiled himself. he crawled across to the window, still limp as a wrung-out rag, drew himself gasping up to his knees, and looked down into

» glokta woke to a shaft of soft sunlight spilling through the hangings and across his wrinkled bed-clothes, full of dancing dust-motes. he tried to turn over, winced at a click in his neck. ah, the first spasm of the day. the second was not long coming. it flashed through his left hip as he wrestled his way onto his back

of his majesty's inquisition.' 'ah, the cripple,' she sneered. with refreshing directness. and why do you disrupt my afternoon? you will find no criminals here.' only styrian witches. glokta's eyes flickered to the other woman, standing bolt upright near one of the windows. 'it is a matter we had better discuss alone.' 'the countess shalere has been my friend since birth.

he picked up the chair he had moved and carefully put it back exactly as he had found it. 'curse you!' terez screeched, her clenched fists trembling as the door clicked shut and left the two of them alone. 'curse you, you twisted bastard! if you harm her—' 'it will not come to that. because you have the means of her

of you, do not hurt her… please…' please, please, please. many congratulations, your eminence. 'you have my word. i will see the countess has only the best of treatment.' he licked gently at the sour gaps in his teeth. 'and you will do the same with your husband.' jezal sat in the darkness. he watched the fire dance in the great

i find that i despise the world, and everything in it, and myself most of all. a regrettable state of affairs, for which there is no remedy.' the lord chamberlain licked his lips uncertainly. 'you have my sympathy, but i fail to see the relevance.' glokta came suddenly very close, ignoring a spasm up his leg, pressing hoff back against the

out for a moment, as if to rest on west's shrunken shoulder, as if to offer comfort. he jerked it back, awkwardly. it is not suited to the task. west licked at his empty gums. 'this is how most of us go, isn't it? no final charge. no moment of glory. we just… fall slowly apart.' glokta would have liked to

or good health, or a merry afternoon. none of them seem quite to fit the circumstance, however. the doors clattered shut and glokta was left staring at them. his eyelid flickered, he felt wet on his cheek. not tears of compassion, of course. not tears of grief. i feel nothing, fear nothing, care for nothing. they cut away the parts of

than a few inches from his, the mottled mass of burns picked out in particularly revolting detail. 'how about now?' he hissed. 'anything seem familiar?' glokta felt his left eye flickering as recognition washed over him like a wave of freezing water. changed, of course. changed utterly and completely. and yet i know him. 'rews,' he breathed. 'none other.' rews bit

sharp breaths, then growling with a great and painful effort he rolled over onto all fours. a heroic achievement indeed. he slowly tested his limbs, wincing as his twisted joints clicked. nothing broken. no more broken than usual, anyway. he reached out and took the handle of his fallen cane between two fingers, dragged it towards him through the scattered papers.

ante-room, hobbling on past the frowning secretary at the huge desk. out into the wide hallway running through the heart of the house of questions and glokta limped faster, cane clicking against the tiles. it hurt him to do it, but he held his head back, gave a cold wrinkle to his lip. out of the corners of his eyes he

shadows. the walls were rendered and whitewashed, though none too recently. there was a seedy feel to the place, and a smell of damp. just as there always is. the clicking of glokta's cane, the hissing of his breath, the rustling of his white coat, all fell dead on the chill, wet air. 'killing me will bring you scant satisfaction, you

on a few more painful strides to a heavy wooden door, bound with iron. 'we are here.' glokta slid a bunch of keys from the pocket of his white coat, flicked through them until he found the right one, unlocked the door, and went in. arch lector sult was not the man he used to be. but then none of us

there, trading words with the union, sorting out an understanding.' 'grim?' logen shook his head. 'back to the mud.' 'huh. well, there it is. makes this easier, anyway.' dow's eyes flickered sideways. 'makes what easier?' logen looked round. shivers was standing right at his shoulder, scowling as if he had someone's murder in mind. no need to ask whose. steel gleamed

we've had one ruthless bastard make himself king o' the north, and i'll be damned before i see a worse.' he feinted forward and logen jerked back. he heard the click of calder's flatbow again and saw the bolt flash right between them. dow scowled over at him. 'you trying to kill me? you loose another bolt and you're spitted, you

carls stepped a touch too close, let his shield drop low. he chose a bad moment to raise his axe and a bad way to do it. there was a click as the maker's sword took his forearm off, left it hanging from his elbow by a scrap of chain-mail. he stumbled forward, dragging in a great wheezing breath, making ready

that blade, eh?' dow grinned wider than ever. 'what's my name? white dow?' logen had a knife to hand, of course. he always did, and more than one. his eyes flickered from the notched blade of dow's sword to the glinting edge of his axe and back. no amount of knives were going to be a match for those, not in

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beneath the emperors prisons. he pressed his tongue into his empty gums and grunted as he shifted his leg, needles from it shooting up his back and making his eyelid flicker. i can be patient. the one good thing about every step being an ordeal. you soon learn how to tread carefully. the door beside him opened sharply and glokta snapped

weeks in a black cell and a choking to the point of death? what form of repayment might that earn me? 'please, then,' hissed glokta through his gums, his eyelid flickering as he watched those blades snip, snip, snip. 'i can scarcely stand the suspense.' 'the gurkish are coming.' he paused for a moment, wrong-footed. 'coming here?' 'yes. to midderland. to

of a herd of swine. 'would you care to join me?' marovia gestured at a large joint of meat, close to raw in the centre, swimming in bloody gravy. glokta licked at his empty gums as he manoeuvred himself into a chair opposite. 'i would be delighted, your worship, but the laws of dentistry prevent me.' 'ah, of course. those laws

where we stand. then he swivelled in his chair, grimacing as he stretched out his throbbing leg, pressing his tongue hard into his empty gums as he felt the knee click. we have more important business than jezal dan luthar. far more important business. for this one day, the power lies with the open council, not the closed. with the nobles,

twisted spine shivering from his arse right to his skull, made his face twitch like an angry jelly, made his few teeth rattle in his empty gums, set his eyelid flickering fast as a fly's wings. the echoes of bayaz' last utterance whispered round the suddenly silent hall. 'luthar, luthar, luthar…' you must be fucking joking. the pale faces of the

burr is dead. the army needs a new commander. argument on that issue will probably take up a good few hours. down here, your majesty.' 'hours?' muttered jezal, his boot-heels clicking down a set of wide marble steps. hours in the company of the closed council. he rubbed his hands nervously together. bayaz seemed to guess his thoughts. 'there is no

failed quest for this seed. after all, his eminence is waiting, and is not known for his patience. he stretched his neck out to either side and felt the bones clicking between his twisted shoulder-blades. he pressed his tongue into his gums and shuffled away from the steps, into the cool darkness of the stacks. they had not changed much in

goyle's arm, but glokta's thoughts were elsewhere. he stared out towards the university, its spires looming up through the smoky murk like clawing fingers. occult experiments? summonings and sendings? he licked sourly at his empty gums. what is going on in there? 'what is going on out there?' jezal strode up and down the roof of the tower of chains in

cling tight to his cane. the breath hissed fast through his nose. her face was sideways on to his, their mouths locked together, sucking wetly. the tip of her tongue licked at his empty gums. pretence, of course, what else could it be ? and yet she does it so very, very well… * * * the first law « ^

the chatter. 'you only borrow your lands from him. he regrets that he requires some portion of them back, but such is the spur of necessity.' 'a quarter.' the cripple licked at his empty gums with a faint sucking sound. 'from each one of you.' 'this will not stand!' shouted an angry old man in the front row. 'you think not,

out for a moment, as if to rest on west's shrunken shoulder, as if to offer comfort. he jerked it back, awkwardly. it is not suited to the task. west licked at his empty gums. 'this is how most of us go, isn't it? no final charge. no moment of glory. we just… fall slowly apart.' glokta would have liked to

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