last argument of kings -...

Contents

PartIThePoisonTradeBeingChiefThis NobleBusinessTheNewMan

FeedingTimeSo Much inCommonHonestyGhostsBadDebtsA RaggedMultitudeBeloved of theMoonFlowers andPlaudits

Too ManyKnivesBestofEnemiesFortunesofWarTheKingmakerTheTrapHorribleOldMenPrepared for theWorstThe Habit ofCommandTheFirstDay

Such SweetSorrowPicked Up AShadowQuestionsTheFourthDayThe PerfectCoupleTheSeventhDayToo ManyMastersSweetVictory

RudeAwakeningsPartIIThe Number oftheDeadLeaves on theWaterAuthorityTheCircleGreaterGoodSkarlingsChairLeadership

A Rock and aHardPlaceCharityBetter LeftBuriedTomorrow'sHeroNightfallQuestionsThe Day ofJudgementSacrificesOpentheBox

DarkPathsReckoningsAftertheRainsAnswersTheWoundedPatrioticDutiesTheFirstLawTeaandThreatsBehind theThroneGood Men, EvilMen

Not What YouWantedLooseEndsTheBeginningAcknowledgments

Copyright © Joe Abercrombie2008AllrightsreservedTherightofJoeAbercrombietobeidentifiedastheauthorofthiswork has been asserted by himin accordance with theCopyright, Designs and PatentsAct1988.First published in Great Britainin2008byGollanczAn imprint of the OrionPublishingGroupOrionHouse,5 Upper St Martin's Lane,LondonWC2H9EAACIP catalogue record for thisbook is available from the

British Library ISBN 978 0575077898(cased)ISBN9780575077904(tradepaperback)57910864Typeset at The Spartan PressLtd,Lymington,HantsPrintedandboundintheUKbyCPI Mackays, Chatham ME58TDThe Orion Publishing Group'spolicy is to use papers that arenatural, renewable andrecyclable products and madefromwoodgrowninsustainableforests. The logging andmanufacturing processes are

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FortheFourReadersYouknowwhoyouare

PARTI

'Lifebeingwhatitis,onedreamsofrevenge.'

PaulGauguin

ThePoisonTrade

^»

Superior Glokta stood in thehall,andwaited.Hestretched

his twisted neck out to oneside and then to the other,hearing the familiar clicks,feeling the familiar cords ofpain stretching out throughthe tangled muscles betweenhisshoulder-blades.WhydoIdo it, when it always hurtsme? Why must we test thepain? Tongue the ulcer, rubtheblister,pickthescab?

'Well?'hesnapped.

The marble bust at thefootofthestairsofferedonlyits silent contempt.And I getmore than enough of thatalready. Glokta shuffledaway, his useless footscrapingoverthetilesbehindhim, the tapping of his caneechoing amongst themouldings on the farawayceiling.

Whenitcametothegreat

noblemen on the OpenCouncil, Lord Ingelstad, theowner of this oversized hall,was an undersized manindeed.Theheadof a familywhose fortunes had declinedwiththepassingyears,whosewealth and influence hadshrivelled to almost nothing.And the more shrivelled theman, the more swollen hispretensions must become.

Why do they never realise?Small things only seemsmallerinlargespaces.

Somewhere in theshadowsaclockvomitedupafew sluggish chimes. Goodand late already. The moreshrivelledtheman,thelongerthewaitonhispleasure.ButIcanbepatient,whenImust.Ihavenodazzlingbanquets,noecstatic crowds, no beautiful

women waiting breathlesslyfor my arrival, after all. Notanymore.TheGurkishsawtothat, in the darkness beneaththe Emperors prisons. Hepressed his tongue into hisempty gums and grunted ashe shifted his leg, needlesfrom it shooting up his backandmakinghiseyelidflicker.I can be patient. The onegood thing about every step

being an ordeal. You soonlearnhowtotreadcarefully.

The door beside himopened sharply and Gloktasnapped his head round,doing his best to hide agrimace as his neck bonescrunched. Lord Ingelstadstood in the doorway: a big,fatherly man with a ruddycomplexion.He offered up afriendlysmileashebeckoned

Glokta into the room. Quiteas though this were a socialcall, and a welcome one atthat.

'I must apologise forkeeping you waiting,Superior.Ihavehadsomanyvisitors since I arrived inAdua, my head is in quite aspin!' Let us hope it doesn'tspin right off. 'So verymanyvisitors!'Visitors with offers,

no doubt. Offers for yourvote. Offers for your help inchoosing our next king. Butmyoffer,Ithink,youwillfindpainful to refuse. 'Will youtakewine,Superior?'

'No,myLord,thankyou.'Gloktahobbledpainfullyoverthe threshold. 'Iwill not staylong.I,too,haveagreatdealof business to attend to.'Elections don't rig

themselves,youknow.'Of course, of course.

Please be seated.' Ingelstaddropped happily into one ofhis chairs and gestured toanother. It took Glokta amoment to get settled,lowering himself carefully,thenshiftinghishipsuntilhediscovered a position inwhich his back did not givehimconstantpain. 'Andwhat

did youwish to discusswithme?'

'IhavecomeonbehalfofArchLectorSult. I hopeyouwill not be offended if I amblunt,buthisEminencewantsyourvote.'

The nobleman's heavyfeatures twisted in feignedpuzzlement. Very badlyfeigned, as it goes. 'I am notsure that I understand. My

voteonwhatissue?'Glokta wiped some wet

frombeneathhisleakingeye.Must we engage in suchundignified dancing? Youhavenotthebuildforit,andIhave not the legs. 'On theissueofwhowillnextoccupythethrone,LordIngelstad.'

'Ah.That.'Yes,that.Idiot.'SuperiorGlokta,IhopeIwillnot disappoint you, or his

Eminence,amanforwhomIhave nothing but the highestrespect,' and he bowed hishead with an exaggeratedshowofhumility,'whenIsaythat I could not, in all goodconscience, allow myself tobe influenced in any onedirection.IfeelthatI,andallthe members of the OpenCouncil, have been given asacredtrust.Iamdutybound

to vote for the man whoseems to me to be the veryfinest candidate, from themany excellent menavailable.'Andhe assumed agrin of the greatest self-satisfaction.

A fine speech. A villagedunce might have evenbelieved it.Howoftenhave Iheard it, or its like, the pastfewweeks?Traditionally, the

bargainingwould come next.The discussion of howmuch,exactly, a sacred trust isworth. How much silveroutweighsagoodconscience.Howmuchgoldcuts throughthebindingsofduty.ButIamnot in a bargaining moodtoday.

Glokta raised hiseyebrows very high, 'I mustcongratulate you on a noble

stand, Lord Ingelstad. Ifeveryone had your characterwewouldbelivinginabetterworld. A noble standindeed…especiallywhenyouhavesomuchtolose.Nolessthan everything, I suppose.'He winced as he took hiscane in one hand and rockedhimself painfully forwardtowardstheedgeofthechair.'But I see you will not be

swayed. and so I take myleave—'

'What can you refer to,Superior?' The nobleman'sunease was written plainlyacrosshisplumpface.

'Why, Lord Ingelstad, toyour corrupt businessdealings.'

Theruddycheekshadlostmuch of their glow. 'There

mustbesomemistake.''Oh no, I assure you.'

Glokta slid the papers ofconfession from the insidepocket of his coat. 'You arementioned often in theconfessions of seniorMercers, you see? Veryoften.' And he held thecrackling pages out so theyboth could see them. 'Hereyou are referred to as—and

notmy choice ofwords, youunderstand—an"accomplice". Here as the"primebeneficiary"ofamostunsavoury smugglingoperation.Andhere,youwillnote—and I almost blush tomention it— your name andthe word "treason" appear incloseproximity.'

Ingelstad sagged backintohischairandsethisglass

rattling down on the tablebeside him, a quantity ofwine sloshing out onto thepolishedwood.Oh,wereallyshouldwipe that up. It couldleave an awful stain, andsomestainsareimpossibletoremove.

'HisEminence,'continuedGlokta, 'counting you as afriend,wasabletokeepyourname out of the initial

enquiries, for everybody'ssake.Heunderstandsthatyouweremerelytryingtoreversethe failing fortunes of yourfamily, and is not withoutsympathy. If you were todisappoint him in thisbusiness of votes, however,his sympathy would bequickly exhausted. Do youtakemymeaning?' I feel thatI have made it abundantly

clear.'Ido,'croakedIngelstad.'And the bonds of duty?

Do they feel any looser,now?'

Thenoblemanswallowed,theflushquitevanishedfromhis face. 'I ameager toassisthis Eminence in any waypossible,ofcourse,but…thething is—' What now? A

desperateoffer?Adespairingbribe? An appeal to myconscience, even? 'ArepresentativeofHighJusticeMarovia came to meyesterday. A man calledHarlen Morrow. He madevery similarrepresentations… and notdissimilar threats.' Gloktafrowned. Did he now?Marovia,andhislittleworm.

Always just one step ahead,or just one step behind. Butnever faraway.A shrill notecrept into Ingelstad's voice.'What am I to do? I cannotsupportyouboth!IwillleaveAdua, Superior, and neverreturn! Iwill…Iwillabstainfromvoting—'

'You'lldonosuchfuckingthing!' hissed Glokta. 'You'llvote the way I tell you and

Marovia be damned!' Moreprodding?Distasteful, but sobeit.Aremyhandsnotfilthyto the elbow? Rummagingthroughanothersewerortwowill scarcely make thedifference. He let his voicesoften to an oily purr. 'Iobserved your daughters inthe park, yesterday.' Thenobleman's face lost its lastvestige of colour. 'Three

young innocents on the verycusp ofwomanhood, dressedall in the height of fashion,andeachonelovelierthanthelast. The youngest wouldbe…fifteen?'

'Thirteen,' croakedIngelstad.

'Ah.' And Glokta let hislips curl back to display histoothless smile. 'She bloomsearly.Theyhaveneverbefore

visitedAdua,amIcorrect?''Theyhavenot,'henearly

whispered.'I thought not. Their

excitement and delight astheytouredthegardensoftheAgriont were perfectlycharming. I swear, theymusthavecaught the eyeof everyeligible suitor in the capital.'He allowed his smile slowlyto fade. 'It would break my

heart, Lord Ingelstad, to seethree such delicate creaturessnatched suddenly away toone of Angland's harshestpenal institutions. Placeswhere beauty, and breeding,and a gentle disposition,attract an entirely differentandfarlessenjoyablekindofattention.' Glokta gave acarefully orchestratedshudder of dismay as he

leaned slowly forward towhisper. 'I would not wishthatlifeonadog.Andallonaccount of the indiscretionsofafatherwhohadthemeansof reparation well within hisgrasp.'

'But my daughters, theywerenotinvolved—'

'We are electing a newking! Everyone is involved!'Harsh, perhaps. But harsh

times demand harsh actions.Glokta struggled to his feet,hand wobbling on his canewith theeffort. 'Iwill tellhisEminence that he can countonyourvote.'

Ingelstad collapsed,suddenly and completely.Like a stabbedwineskin. Hisshoulders sagged, his facehung loose with horror andhopelessness. 'But the High

Justice…' he whispered.'Haveyounopity?'

Glokta could only shrug.'I did have. As a boy I wassoft-heartedbeyond thepointof foolishness. I swear, Iwouldcryataflycaughtinaspider'sweb.'Hegrimacedatabrutalspasmthroughhislegas he turned for the door.'Constant pain has cured meofthat.'

It was an intimate littlegathering. But the companyhardly inspires warmth.Superior Goyle glared atGlokta fromacross thehuge,roundtableinthehuge,roundoffice,hisbeadyeyes staringfrom his bony face. And notwith tender feelings, I ratherthink.

The attention of his

Eminence the Arch Lector,the head of his Majesty'sInquisition, was fixedelsewhere. Pinned to thecurving wall, taking upperhaps half of the entirechamber,were three hundredand twenty sheets of paper.One for everygreatheart onour noble Open Council.They crackled gently in thebreeze from the great

windows. Fluttering littlepapers for fluttering littlevotes. Each one was markedwithaname.Lord this,Lordthat, Lord someone ofwherever. Big men and littlemen.Menwhoseopinions,onthe whole, no one cared adamn for until PrinceRaynault fell out of his bedandintohisgrave.

Many of the pages had a

blobofcolouredwaxontheircorner. Some had two, oreven three. Allegiances.Which way will they vote?Blue for Lord Brock, red forLord Isher, black forMarovia, white for Sult, andso on. All subject to change,of course, depending whichway the wind blows them.Below were written lines ofsmall,densescript.Toosmall

forGloktatoreadfromwherehe was sitting, but he knewwhattheysaid.Wifewasoncea whore. Partial to youngmen.Drinkstoomuchforhisgood.Murdered a servant ina rage. Gambling debts hecannot cover. Secrets.Rumours. Lies. The tools ofthis noble trade. Threehundred and twenty names,andjustasmanysordidlittle

stories,eachonetobepickedat, and dug out, and jabbedour way. Politics. Truly, theworkoftherighteous.

So why do I do this?Why?

The Arch Lector hadmore pressing concerns.'Brock still leads,' hemurmured in a dour drone,staring at the shifting paperswith his white gloved hands

clasped behind his back. 'Hehassomefiftyvotes,moreorlesscertain.'Ascertainaswecan be in these uncertaintimes.'Isherisnotfarbehind,with forty or more to hisname. Skald has made somerecentgains,asfaraswecantell.Anunexpectedlyruthlessman. He has the Stariklanddelegationmoreorlessinhishand,which gives him thirty

votes, perhaps, and Barezinabout the same.Theyare thefour main contenders, asthingsstand.'

Butwho knows? Perhapsthe King will live anotheryear,andbythetimeitcomestoavotewe'llallhavekilledeach other. Glokta had tostifle a grin at the thought.The Lords' Round heapedwith richly-dressed corpses,

every great nobleman in theUnion and all twelvemembers of the ClosedCouncil.Each stabbed in theback by theman beside. Theuglytruthofgovernment…

'Did you speak toHeugen?'snappedSult.

Goyle tossed his baldinghead and sneered at Gloktawith seething annoyance.'Lord Heugen is still

struggling under the delusionthat he could be our nextking, though he cannotcertainly controlmore than adozen chairs. He barely hadtimetohearourofferhewasso busy scrabbling to coaxoutmore votes. Perhaps in aweek, or two, he will seereason. Then he might beencouraged to lean our way,butIwouldn'tbetonit.More

likely he'll throw in his lotwith Isher. The two of themhave always been close, Iunderstand.'

'Good for them,' hissedSult.'WhataboutIngelstad?'

Glokta stirred in his seat.'I presented him with yourultimatum in very bluntterms,yourEminence.'

'Thenwecancountonhis

vote?'How to put this? 'I could

not say so with absolutecertainty. High JusticeMarovia was able to makethreatsalmostidenticaltoourown, throughhismanHarlenMorrow.'

'Morrow? Isn't he somelickspittleofHoffs?'

'It would seem he has

moved up in the world.' Ordown,dependingonhowyoulookatit.

'He could be taken careof.' Goyle wore a mostunsavoury expression. 'Quiteeasily—'

'No!' snapped Sult. 'Whyis it, Goyle, that no soonerdoes a problem appear thanyouwant to kill it!Wemusttread carefully for now, and

show ourselves to bereasonable men, open tonegotiation.'He strode to thewindow, the bright sunlightglittering purple through thegreat stone on his ring ofoffice. 'Meanwhile thebusiness of actually runningthecountry is ignored.Taxesgo uncollected. Crimes gounpunished.Thisbastardtheycall the Tanner, this

demagogue, this traitor,speaks in public at villagefairs, urging open rebellion!Daily now, peasants leavetheir farms and turn tobanditry, perpetrating untoldtheft and damage. Chaosspreads, andwehavenot theresources to stamp it out.Thereareonlytworegimentsof the King's Own left inAdua, scarcely enough to

maintain order in the city.Who knows if one of ournoble Lords will tire ofwaitinganddecidetotryandseize thecrownprematurely?Iwouldnotputitpastthem!'

'WillthearmyreturnfromtheNorthsoon?'askedGoyle.

'Unlikely. That oafMarshalBurr has spent threemonths squatting outsideDunbrec, and given Bethod

ampletimetoregroupbeyondthe Whiteflow. Who knowswhenhe'll finally get the jobdone, if ever!'Months spentdestroying our own fortress.It almost makes one wishwe'd put less effort intobuildingtheplace.

'Twenty-five votes.' TheArch Lector scowled at thecrackling papers. 'Twenty-five, and Marovia has

eighteen? We're scarcelymaking progress! For everyvote we gain we lose onesomewhereelse!'

Goyle leaned forwards inhis chair. 'Perhaps, yourEminence, thetimehascometo call againonour friend attheUniversity—'

The Arch Lector hissedfuriously,andGoylesnappedhismouthshut.Gloktalooked

out the great window,pretending that he had heardnothing out of the ordinary.The six crumbling spires oftheUniversity dominated theview. But what help couldanyone possibly find there?Amongst the decay, and thedust, from those old idiots ofAdepti?

Sultdidnotgivehimlongtoconsiderit. 'Iwillspeakto

Heugen myself.' And hejabbedoneofthepaperswithafinger.'Goyle,writetoLordGovernor Meed and try toelicit his support. Glokta,arrange an interview withLord Wetterlant. He has yettodeclarehimselfonewayorthe other. Get out there, thepairofyou.'Sultturnedfromhis sheets full of secrets andfixedonGloktawithhishard

blue eyes. 'Get out there andget…me…votes!'

BeingChief

«^»

'Cold night!' shouted theDogman. 'Thought it wasmeanttobesummer!'

The three of 'em looked

up. The nearest was an oldmanwithgreyhairandafacelooked like it had seen someweather. Just past himwas ayoungerman,missinghisleftarm above the elbow. Thethird was no more'n a boy,stood down the end of thequayand frowningoutat thedarksea.

Dogman faked a nastylimp as he walked over,

dragging one leg behind himand wincing like he was inpain. He shuffled under thelamp, dangling on its highpole with the warning bellbeside it, and held up the jarsotheycouldallsee.

Theoldmangrinned,andleaned his spear against thewall. 'Always cold, down bythe water.' He came up,rubbing his hands together.

'Just as well we got you tokeepuswarm,eh?'

'Aye. Good luck allround.' Dogman pulled outthe stopper and let it dangle,lifted one of the mugs andpouredoutaslosh.

'No need to be shy, eh,lad?'

'Iguessthereain'tatthat.'Dogman sloshed out some

more.Themanwithonearmhad to set his spear downwhenhegothandedhismug.The boy came up last, andlookedDogmanover,wary.

The old one nudged himwithanelbow.'Yousureyourmother'd care for youdrinking,boy?'

'Who cares what she'dsay?' he growled, trying tomake his high voice sound

gruff.Dogman handed him a

mug. 'You're old enough tohold a spear, you're oldenough to hold a cup, Ireckon.'

'I'm old enough!' hesnapped, snatching it out o'Dogman's hand, but heshuddered when he drankfromit.Dogmanrememberedhisfirstdrink,feelingmighty

sick and wondering what allthe fuss was about, and hesmiled to himself. The boythoughthewasbeinglaughedat,most likely. 'Whoareyouanyway?'

Theoldboytutted. 'Don'tmind him. He's still youngenoughtothinkthatrudenesswinsrespect.'

''S alright,' said Dogman,pouring himself a mug then

setting the jar down on thestones, taking time to thinkoutwhattosay,makesurehedidn'tmakenomistakes. 'Myname'sCregg.'He'dknownaman called Cregg once, gotkilled in a scrap up in thehills. Dogman hadn't likedhim much, and he'd no ideawhythatnamecametomind,butonewasaboutasgoodasanother right then, he

reckoned. He slapped histhigh. 'Got poked in the legup at Dunbrec and it ain'thealed right. Can't march nomore. Reckon my days atholdingalineareover,somychief sent me down here, towatchthewaterwithyoulot.'He looked out at the sea,flapping and sparkling underthe moon like a thing alive.'Can'tsayI'mtoosorryabout

it, though. Being honest, Ihad a skin full o' fighting.'That last bit was no lie, atleast.

'Knowhowyoufeel,'saidOne-Arm, waving his stumpin Dogman's face. 'How'rethingsupthere?'

'Alright. Union are stillsat outside their own walls,trying everything to get in,andwe'reontheothersideo'

the river, waiting for 'em.Beenthatwayforweeks.'

'I heard some boys havegone over to the Union. Iheard old Threetrees was upthere,gotkilledinthatbattle.'

'He was a great man,RuddThreetrees,'saidtheoldboy,'greatman.'

'Aye.' Dogman nodded.'Thathewas.'

'Heard the Dogman tookhis place, though,' said One-Arm.

'Thatafact?''SoIheard.Meanbastard,

that.Huge big lad.They callhim Dogman 'cause he bitsome woman's teats off onetime.'

Dogmanblinked.'Dotheynow?Well,Ineversawhim.'

'I heard the Bloody-Ninewas up there,' whispered theboy, eyes big like he wastalkingaboutaghost.

The other two snorted athim. 'The Bloody-Nine'sdead,boy,andgoodriddanceto that evil fucker.'One-Armshuddered. 'Damn it but yougetsomefoolnotions!'

'JustwhatIheard,isall.'

Theoldboyswilleddownsomemoregrogandsmackedhis lips. 'Don't much matterwho's where. Union'll mostlikely get bored once they'vegottheirfortback.Getboredandgo home, across the sea,and everything back tonormal. None of 'em will becomingdownheretoUffrith,anyway.'

'No,' said One-Arm

happily. 'They'll not becominghere.'

'Then why we out herewatchingfor'em?'whinedtheboy.

The old man rolled hiseyes, like he'd heard it tentimes before and alwaysmade the same answer.''Causethat'sthetaskwebeengiven,lad.'

'Andonceyougota task,youbestdoitright.'Dogmanremembered Logen tellinghim the same thing, andThreetrees too. Both gonenow, and back in the mud,but it was still as true as itever was. 'Even if it's a dulltask,oradangerous,oradarkone. Even if it's a task you'drathernotdo.'Damnit,butheneededtopiss.Alwaysdid,at

atimelikethis.'Trueenough,'saidtheold

man, smiling down into hismug. 'Things've got to getdone.'

'That they do. Shame,though. You seem a niceenough set o' lads.' And theDogman reached behind hisback, just like he wasscratchinghisarse.

'Shame?' The boy lookedpuzzled. 'How d'you mean a—'

That was when Dowcame up behind him and cuthisneckopen.

Same moment, almost,Grim's dirty hand clampeddown on One-Arm's mouthand the bloody point of ablade slid out the gap in hiscloak. Dogman jumped

forwardandgavetheoldmanthree quick stabs in the ribs.He wheezed, and stumbled,eyeswide,mug still hangingfrom his hand, groggy droolspilling out his open mouth.Thenhefelldown.

The boy crawled a littleway.Hehadonehand tohisneck,tryingtokeepthebloodin, the other reaching outtowards thepole thewarning

bell was hung on. He hadsome bones, the Dogmanreckoned, to be thinking ofthebellwithaslit throat,buthedidn'tdraghimselfmore'na stride beforeDow stompeddownhardonthebackofhisneckandsquashedhimflat.

Dogman winced as heheard the boy's neck bonescrunch.Hehadn'tdeservedtodielikethat,most likely.But

that's what war is. A lot offolk getting killed that don'tdeserve it. The job hadneeded doing, and they'ddone it, and were all threestill alive.About asmuch ashecould'vehoped for fromapiece of work like that, butsomehow it still left a sourtaste on him. He'd neverfound it easy, but it washarderthanever,nowhewas

chief. Strange, how it's thatmucheasiertokillfolkwhenyou've got someone tellingyou to do it. Hard business,killing. Harder than you'dthink.

Unlessyourname'sBlackDow,ofcourse.Thatbastardwould kill a man as easy ashe'd take a piss. That waswhatmadehimsodamngoodat it. Dogman watched him

bend down, strip the cloakfrom One-Arm's limp bodyand pull it round his ownshoulders,thenrollthecorpseoff into the sea, careless asdumpingrubbish.

'You got two arms,' saidGrim, already with the oldman'scloakon.

Dow looked down athimself. 'What're you sayingexactly? I ain't cutting my

arm off to make for a betterdisguise,y'idiot!'

'He means keep it out o'sight.'DogmanwatchedDowwipe out a mug with a dirtyfinger, pour himself a slugand knock it back. 'How canyoudrinkatatimelikethis?'he asked, pulling the boy'sbloodycloakoffhiscorpse.

Dow shrugged as hepoured himself another.

'Shame to waste it. And likeyou said. Cold night.' Hebroke a nasty grin. 'Damn it,but you can talk, Dogman.Name's Cregg.' He took acouple of limping steps.'Stabbed in me arse up atDunbrec!Where d'you get itfrom?' He slapped Grim'sshoulderwith thebackofhishand. 'Fucking lovely, eh?They got aword for it, don't

they?What'sthatword,now?''Plausible,'saidGrim.Dow's eyes lit up.

'Plausible. That's what y'are,Dogman. You're oneplausible bastard. I swear,you could've told 'em youwas Skarling Hoodless hisown self and they'd havebelieved it. Don't know howyoucankeepastraightface!'

Dogman didn't feel toomuchlikelaughing.Hedidn'tlike looking at them twocorpses, still laid out on thestones.Keptworryingthattheboy'd get cold without hiscloak. Damn fool thing tothink about, given he waslying in a pool of his ownbloodastrideacross.

'Never mind about that,'he grunted. 'Dump these two

hereandgetoverbythegate.Don't know when there'll beotherscoming.'

'Right y'are, chief, righty'are,whateveryousay.'Dowheaved the two of them offinto the water, then heunhooked the clapper frominsidethebellandtossedthatintotheseaforgoodmeasure.

'Shame,'saidGrim.

'Whatis?''Wasteofabell.'Dow blinked at him.

'Wasteofabell,Iswear!Yougotyourselfalottosayallofa sudden, and you knowwhat? I think I liked youbetterbefore.Wasteofabell?Youlostyourmind,boy?'

Grim shrugged.'Southernersmightwant one,

whentheygethere.''They can fucking take a

dive for the clapper then,can't they!' And DowsnatchedupOne-Arm'sspearand strode over to the opengate, one hand stuffed insidehisstolencloak,grumblingtohimself.'Wasteofabell…bythefuckingdead…'

TheDogmanstretcheduponhis toesandunhookedthe

lamp, held it up, facing thesea,thenheliftedonesideofhis cloak to cover it, broughtit down again. Lifted it up,brought it down. One moretime and he hooked itflickering back on the pole.Seemed a tiny little flameright then, to warm all theirhopes at. A tiny little flame,to be seen all the way outthere on the water, but the

onlyonetheyhad.He was waiting all the

timeforthewholebusinesstogowrong, for the clamour togo up in the town, for fivedozenCarls to come pouringout that open gate and givethe three o' them the killingthey deserved. He wasbursting to piss, thinkingaboutit.Buttheydidn'tcome.No sound but the empty bell

creakingon itspole, thecoldwaves slapping on stone andwood. It was just the waythey'dplannedit.

The first boat camegliding out the darkness,Shiversgrinning in theprow.AscoreofCarlswerepressedinto the boat behind him,workingtheoarsrealcareful,white faces tensed up, teethgritted with the effort of

keeping quiet. Still, everyclick and clank of wood andmetal set the Dogman'snervestojumping.

Shiversandhisboyshungsomesacksof strawover theside as theybrought theboatin close, stopping the woodscraping on the stones, allthought out theweek before.They tossed up ropes andDogman and Grim caught

'em,draggedtheboatuptightand tied it off. Dogmanlooked over at Dow, leaningstillandeasyagainstthewallbythegate,andheshookhishead gently, to say no onewas moving in the town.Then Shivers was up thesteps, smooth and quiet,squatting down in thedarkness.

'Nice work, chief,' he

whispered, smiling rightacross his face. 'Nice andneat.'

'There'll be time to slapeach others' backs later. Gettheresto'themboatstiedoff.'

'Right y'are.' There weremore boats coming now,more Carls, more sacks ofstraw. Shivers' boys pulledthemin,starteddraggingmenupontothequay.Allkindsof

menwho'dcomeoverthelastfew weeks. Men who didn'tcareforBethod'snewwayofdoing things.Soon therewasagoodcrowdof'emdownbythe water. SomanyDogmancould hardly believe theyweren'tseen.

They formed up intogroups, just the way they'dplanned, each one with theirownchiefandtheirowntask.

A couple of the lads knewUffrith and they'd made aplan of the place in the dirt,the way Threetrees used to.Dogmanhadeveryoneof'emlearn it.He grinnedwhen hethought of how much BlackDow had carped about that,but it was worth it now. Hesquattedbythegate,andtheycamepast,onedarkandsilentgroupatatime.

Tulwas first up, a dozenCarls behind him. 'Alright,Thunderhead,' said Dogman,'yougotthemaingate.'

'Aye,'noddedTul.'Biggesttasko'thelot,so

tryandgetitdonequiet.''Quiet,yougotit.''Luckthen,Tul.''Won't need it.' And the

gianthurriedoffintothedark

streetswithhiscrewbehind.'Red Hat, you got the

tower by the well and thewallsbeside.'

'ThatIhave.''Shivers, you and your

boys are keeping awatch onthetownsquare.'

'Like the owl watches,chief.'

And so on, past they

went, through the gate andinto the dark streets, makingnomore noise than thewindoff the sea and thewavesonthe dock, Dogman givingeach crew their task andslapping'emoffontheirway.BlackDowcameuplast,andahard-looking set ofmenhehadbehindhim.

'Dow, you got theheadman's hall. Stack it up

with some wood, like wesaid, but don't set fire to it,you hear? Don't kill anyoneyoudon'thaveto.Notyet.'

'Notyet,fairenough.''And Dow.' He turned

back. 'Don'tgobotheringanywomenfolkeither.'

'WhatdoyouthinkIam?'he asked, teeth gleaming inthe darkness, 'Some kind of

ananimal?'And that was it done.

TherewasjusthimandGrim,andafewotherstowatchthewater. 'Uh,' said Grim,noddinghisheadslowly.Thatwas high praise indeed fromhim.

Dogman pointed over atthe pole. 'Get us that bell,would you?' he said. 'Mighthaveauseforitafterall.'

By the dead, but it made asound. Dogman had to halfclosehiseyes,hiswholearmtrembling as he whacked atthebellwiththehandleofhisknife. He didn't feel toocomfortable in amongst allthose buildings, squashed inby walls and fences. Hehadn't spent much time intownsinhislife,andwhathe

had spent he hadn't muchenjoyed. Either burningthings and causing mischiefafter a siege,or lying aroundin Bethod's prisons, waitingtobekilled.

He blinked round at thejumble of slate roofs, thewallsofoldgreystone,blackwood, dirty grey render, allgreasy with the thin rain.Seemedastrangewaytolive,

sleeping in abox,wakingallyour days in the exact samespot. The idea alone madehim restless, as though thatbell hadn't got him twitchyenough already. He clearedhis throat and set it downonthecobblesbesidehim.Thenhe stood there waiting, onehandon thehiltofhis swordinawaythathehopedmeantbusiness.

Some flapping footfallscamefromdownastreetanda little girl ran out into thesquare.Herjawdroppedopenwhen she saw them standingthere, a dozen men allbeardedandarmed,TulDuruin their midst. Probably shenever sawamanhalf sobig.She turned around sharp torun the other way, almostslipping over on the slick

cobbles. Then she saw Dowsittingonapileofwood justbehindher,leaningbackeasyagainst the wall, his drawnsword on his knees, and shefrozestonestill.

'That's alright, girl,'growled Dow. 'You can staywherey'are.'

There were more of 'emcoming now, hurrying downinto the square from all

around, all getting that sameshocked lookwhen they sawDogman and his lads stoodwaiting. Women and boys,mostly, and a couple of oldmen. Dragged out o' theirbedsbythebellandstillhalfasleep, eyes red and facespuffy, clothes tangled, armedwithwhateverwastohand.Aboywith a butcher's cleaver.An oldman all stooped over

with a sword looked evenolder than he was. A girl atthefrontwithapitchforkandalotofmessydarkhair,hadalook on her face remindedDogman of Shari. Hard andthoughtful, theway she usedto look at him before theystarted lying together.Dogmanfrowneddownatherdirtybarefeet,hopingthathewouldn'thavetokillher.

Getting 'em good andscaredwouldbethebestwayto get things done quick andeasy.SoDogmantriedtotalklike someone to be feared,ratherthansomeonewhowasshitting himself. Like Logenmight've talked. Or maybethat was more fear than wasneedful. Like Threetrees,then.Toughbutfair,wantingwhatwasbestforeveryone.

'The headman amongyou?'hegrowled.

'I'mhim,' croaked theoldmanwith the sword,his faceallslackwithshockatfindinga score of well-armedstrangers standing in themiddle of his town square.'Brass is my name.Who thehellmightyoube?'

'I'mtheDogman,andthishereisHardingGrim,andthe

big lad is Tul DuruThunderhead.' Some eyeswent wide, some folkmuttered to each other.Seemed they'd heard thenames before. 'We're herewith five hundred Carls andlast night we took your cityoff you.' A few gasps andsqueals at that. It was closertotwohundred,buttherewasnopoint telling 'em so.They

might've got the notion thatfightingwasagood ideaandhe'd no wish to end upstabbingawoman,orgettingstabbed by one either.'There's plenty more of us,roundabout,andyourguardsare all trussed up, those wedidn't have to kill. Some o'my boys, and you ought toknow I'm talking of BlackDow—'

'That's me.' Dow flashedhisnastygrin,andafewfolkshuffled fearfully away fromhimlikethey'dbeentoldhellitselfwassatthere.

'… Well, they were forputting the torch straight toyourhousesandgettingsomekilling done. Do things likewe used to with the Bloody-Nine in charge, you takemymeaning?' Some child in

amongstthereststartedtocryabit,awetkindofsnuffling.The boy stared round him,cleaverwobblinginhishand,the dark-haired girl blinkedand clung on tighter to herpitch-fork. They got the gist,alright.'ButIthoughtI'dgiveyoua fair chance togiveup,being as the town's full withwomenfolk and children andall the rest. My score's with

Bethod,notwithyoupeople.The Union want to use thisplaceas aport, bring inmenand supplies and whatever.They'll be here inside anhour, in their ships. A lot of'em. It's happening with orwithout your say so. I guessmypointiswecandothisthebloodyway, if that's thewayyou want it. The dead knowwe've had the practice. Or

you can give up yourweapons, if you've got 'em,andwecanallgetalong,niceand…what'sthewordforit?'

'Civilised,'saidGrim.'Aye. Civilised. What

d'yousay?'The oldman fingered his

sword, looking like he'drather have leant on it thanswung it, andhestaredupat

thewalls,whereafewof theCarlswerelookingdown,andhisshouldersslumped.'Lookslike you got us cold. TheDogman, eh? I always heardyouwasacleverbastard.Noone much left here to fightyou, anyway. Bethod tookeverymancouldholdaspearand a shield at once.' Helooked round at the sorrycrowd behind him. 'Will you

leavethewomenbe?''We'llleave'embe.''Thosethatwanttobeleft

be,' said Dow, leering at thegirlwiththepitch-fork.

'We'll leave 'em be,'growledDogman,givinghimahardlook.'I'llseetoit.'

'Well then,' wheezed theold man, shuffling up andwincing as he knelt and

dropped his rusty blade atDogman's feet. 'You're abettermanthanBethod,farasI'm concerned. I suppose Iought to be thanking you foryourmercy,ifyoukeepyourword.'

'Uh.' Dogman didn't feeltoomerciful.He doubted theold boy he'd killed on thedockwouldbe thankinghim,or the one-armed man

stabbedthroughfrombehind,or the ladwith the cut throatwho'd had his whole lifestolen.

Onebyonetherestofthecrowdcameforward,andoneby one the weapons, if youcould call 'em that, gotdropped in a heap.A pile ofold rusty tools and junk.Theboy came up last and let hiscleaverclatterdownwith the

rest, gave a scared look atBlackDow,thenhurriedbacktotheothersandclungtothedark-hairedgirl'shand.

They stood there, in awide-eyed huddle, andDogman could almost smelltheir fear.TheywerewaitingforDow and hisCarls to setto hacking 'em down wherethey stood. They werewaiting to get herded in a

house and locked in and theplacesetfireto.Dogmanhadseen all that before. So hedidn't blame 'em one bit astheyallcrowdedtogetherlikesheeppressedupinafieldinwinter. He'd have done thesame.

'Alright!' he barked.'That's it! Back to yourhouses,orwhatever.Union'llbe here before midday, and

it'd be better if the streetswereempty.'

TheyblinkedatDogman,andatTul,andatBlackDow,and at each other. Theyswallowedand trembled, andmuttered their thanks to thedead.Theybrokeup, slowly,and spread out, andwent offtheir own ways. Alive, toeveryone'sgreatrelief.

'Nicely done, chief,' said

Tul in Dogman's ear.'Threetrees himself couldn'thavedoneitnobetter.'

Dow sidled up from theotherside.'Aboutthewomen,though, if you're asking myopinion—'

'I'mnot,'saidDogman.'Have you seen my son?'

There was one woman whowasn't going home. She was

coming up from one man toanother,half-tearsinhereyesand her face all wild fromworry. The Dogman put hishead down and looked theother way. 'My son, he wasonguard,downbythewater!Youseenhim?'ShetuggedatDogman's coat, her voicecracked and wet-sounding.'Please,where'smyson?'

'You think I knowwhere

everyone's at?' he snapped inher weepy face. He strodeaway like he had a load ofimportant stuff to do, and allthe while he was thinking—you're a coward, Dogman,you're a bastard bloodycoward.Somehero,pullinganeat trick on a bunch ofwomen,andchildren,andoldmen.

Itain'teasy,beingchief.

ThisNobleBusiness

«^»

The great moat had beendrained early in the siege,

leaving behind a wide ditchfull of blackmud.At the farend of the bridge across itfour soldiers worked by acart, dragging corpses to thebank and rolling themfloppingdownto thebottom.The corpses of the lastdefenders, gashed andburned, spattered with bloodanddirt.Wildmen,frompastthe River Crinna far to the

east, tangle-haired andbearded. Their limp bodiesseemed pitifully witheredafter three months sealed upbehind thewalls ofDunbrec,pitifully starved. Scarcelyhuman. Itwas hard forWestto take much joy in thevictory over such sorrycreaturesasthese.

'Seemsashame,'mutteredJalenhorm, 'after they fought

sobravely.Toendlikethat.'West watched another

ragged corpse slither downthebankand into the tangledheapofmuddylimbs.'Thisishow most sieges end.Especially for the brave.They'll be buried down therein the muck, then the moatwill be flooded again. Thewaters of theWhiteflowwillsurge over them, and their

bravery, or lack of it, willhavemeantnothing.'

The fortress of Dunbrecloomed over the two officersas they crossed the bridge,black outlines of walls andtowers like great, stark holesintheheavywhitesky.Afewraggedbirdscircledabove.Acouplemorecroakedfromthescarredbattlements.

It had taken General

Kroy'smenamonth tomakethis same journey, bloodilyrepulsed time and again, andto finally break through theheavy doors under a steadyrain of arrows, stones, andboiling water. Another weekofclaustrophobicslaughtertoforce the dozen strides downthe tunnel beyond, to burstthrough the second gatewithaxeand fireand finally seize

control of the outer wall.Every advantage had lainwiththedefenders.Theplacehad been most carefullydesignedtoensurethatitwasso.

And once they hadmadeitthroughthegatehouse,theirproblems were only justbeginning. The inner wallwas twice the height andthickness of the outer,

dominating its walkways atevery point. There had beennoshelterfrommissilesfromthesixmonstroustowers.

To conquer that secondwall Kroy's men had triedevery strategy in the manualof siege. They had workedwith pick and crowbar, butthe masonry was five stridesthick at the base. They hadmade an effort at amine but

the ground was waterloggedoutside the fortress and solidAngland rock beneath. Theyhadbombardedtheplacewithcatapults, but scarcelyscratched the mightybastions.Theyhadcomewithscaling ladders, again andagain,inwavesandinparties,by surprise at night orbrazenlyintheday,andinthedarkness and the light the

straggling lines of Unionwounded had shuffled awayfromtheirfailedattempts,thedead dragged solemnlybehind.Theyhadfinallytriedreasoning with the wilddefenders, through themedium of a Northerntranslator,andtheunfortunateman had been pelted withnightsoil.

It had been pure fortune,

intheend.Afterstudyingthemovementsoftheguards,oneenterprising sergeant hadtried his luck with a grappleunder coverofnight.Hehadclimbedupandadozenotherbravemenhadfollowedhim.They took the defenders bysurprise, killed several ofthem and seized thegatehouse. The whole efforttooktenminutesandcostone

Union life. It was a fittingirony, to West's mind, thathavingtriedeveryroundaboutmethod and been bloodilyrepulsed,theUnionarmyhadfinally entered the innerfortressbyitsopenfrontgate.

A soldier was bent overnearthatarchwaynow,beingnoisily sick onto the stainedflagstones. West passed himwith some foreboding, the

sound of his clicking bootheelsechoingaroundthelongtunnel, and emerged into thewide courtyard at the centreof the fortress. It was aregular hexagon, echoing theshape of the inner and outerwalls,allpartoftheperfectlysymmetrical design. Westdoubted that the architectswould have approved,however,ofthestateinwhich

the Northmen had left theplace.

A long wooden buildingat one side of the yard,perhapsa stables,hadcaughtfireintheattackandwasnowreduced to amassof charredbeams, the embers stillglowing.Thoseclearingawaythemesshad toomuchworkoutside the walls, and theground was still scattered

with fallen weapons andtangled corpses. The Uniondead had been stretched outin rows near one corner andcoveredupwithblankets.TheNorthmen lay in everyattitude, on their faces or ontheir backs, curled up orstretchedoutwhere they fell.Beneath the bodies the stoneflagsweredeeplyscored,andnot just with the random

damage of a three-monthsiege.Agreatcirclehadbeenchiselled from the rock, andothercircleswithinit,strangemarksandsymbolslaidoutinan intricate design.West didnot care for its look in theleast. Worse still, he wasbecoming aware of arepulsive stench to theplace,more pungent even than thetangofburnedwood.

'What ever is that smell?'muttered Jalenhorm, puttingonehandoverhismouth.

A sergeant nearbyoverheard him. 'Seems thatourNorthernfriendschosetodecorate the place.' Hepointedupabovetheirheads,and West followed thegauntleted finger with hiseyes.

They were so decayed

that it tookhimamoment torealise hewas looking at theremains of men. They hadbeennailed,spread-eagled,totheinsidewallsofeachofthetowers,highabovethelean-tobuildings round thecourtyard.Rottingoffalhungdown from their bellies,crawlingwith flies. Cutwiththe Bloody Cross, as theNorthmen would say.

Tattered shreds of brightly-coloured Union uniformswere still vaguely visible,flutteringinthebreezeamongthe masses of putrefyingflesh.

Clearly they had beenhanging there some time.Sincebefore thesiegebegan,certainly. Perhaps since thefortress first fell to theNorthmen. Corpses of the

original defenders, nailedthere, rotting, for all thosemonths.Threeappearedtobewithout their heads. Thecompanionpieces,perhaps,tothosethreegiftsthathadbeensent toMarshal Burr all thattimeago.Westfoundhimselfwondering, pointlessly,whetheranyofthemhadbeenalive when they were nailedup. Spit rushed into his

mouth, the sound of fliesbuzzing seeming suddenly,sickeninglyloud.

Jalenhorm had gone paleas a ghost. He did not sayanything.Hedidnothaveto.'What happened here?'muttered West through hisgritted teeth, as much tohimselfasanything.

'Well, sir, we think theywerehopingtogethelp.'The

sergeant grinned at him,clearly possessed of a verystrong stomach. 'Help fromsome unfriendly gods, we'vebeenguessing.Seemsthatnoone was listening downbelowthough,eh?'

West frowned at theragged markings on theground.'Getridofthem!Tearuptheflagsandreplacethemif you have to.' His eyes

strayed to the decayingcadavers above, and he felthis stomach give a painfulsqueeze. 'And offer a ten-markbounty to themanwithgutsenoughtoclimbupthereandcutthosecorpsesdown.'

'Tenmarks,sir?Bringmeoverthatladder!'

West turned and strodeoutthroughtheopengatesofthe fortress of Dunbrec,

holdinghisbreathandhopinglike hell that he never hadoccasion to visit the placeagain.Heknewthathewouldbeback,though.Ifonlyinhisdreams.

Briefings with Poulder andKroyweremorethanenoughto sicken the healthiest ofmen, and LordMarshal Burrwas by no means in that

category. The commander ofHis Majesty's armies inAngland was as pitifullyshrunken as the defenders ofDunbrechadbeen,hissimpleuniformhangingloosearoundhim while his pale skinseemed stretched too tightover the bones. In a dozenshort weeks he had aged asmanyyears.His hand shook,hisliptrembled,hecouldnot

stand for long, andcouldnotrideatall.Fromtimeto timehewould grimace and shiveras though he was racked byunseen pangs. West hardlyknew how he was able tocarryon,butcarryonhedid,fourteen hours a day andmore. He attended to hisduties with all his olddiligence. Only now theyseemed to eat him up, piece

bypiece.Burrfrownedgrimlyupat

the great map of the borderregion, his hands resting onhisbelly.TheWhiteflowwasawindingbluelinedownthemiddle, Dunbrec a blackhexagon marked in swirlyscript.On its left, theUnion.On its right, the North. 'So,'hecroaked,thencoughedandcleared his throat, 'The

fortressisbackinourhands.'GeneralKroygaveastiff

nod.'Itis.''Finally,' observed

Poulderunderhisbreath.Thetwogeneralsstillappearedtoregard Bethod and hisNorthmen as a minordistraction from the realenemy;eachother.

Kroy bristled, his staff

muttering around him like aflock of angry crows.'DunbrecwasdesignedbytheUnion's foremost militaryarchitects, and no expensewas spared in itsconstruction!Capturingithasbeennomeantask!'

'Of course, of course,'growled Burr, doing his bestto mount a diversion.'Damned difficult place to

take.Dowehave any notionof how the Northmenmanagedit?'

'None survived to tell uswhat trickery theyemployed,sir. They fought, withoutexception, to the death. Thelast few barricadedthemselves in the stablesandsetfiretothestructure.'

BurrglancedatWest,andslowly shook his head. 'How

can one understand such anenemy?Whatistheconditionofthefortressnow?'

'The moat was drained,the outer gatehouse partlydestroyed, considerabledamage done to the innerwall. The defenders toredown some buildings forwood to burn and stones tothrow and left the rest in…'Kroy worked his lips as

though struggling to find thewords. 'A very poorcondition. Repairs will takesomeweeks.'

'Huh.' Burr rubbedunhappily at his stomach.'The Closed Council areanxious that we cross theWhiteflow into the North assoonaspossible,andtakethefight to the enemy. Positivenews for the restless

populace,andsoon.''The capture of Uffrith,'

leapedinPoulder,withagrinof towering smugness, 'hasleft our position far stronger.We have gained at a strokeone of the best ports in theNorth, perfectly situated tosupplyour forcesaswepushinto enemy territory. Before,everything had to come thelength of Angland by cart,

over bad roads in badweather.Nowwecanbringinsupplies and reinforcementsbyshipandalmoststraighttothe front! And the wholething managed without asinglecasualty!'

West was not about toallow him to steal the creditforthat.

'Absolutely,' hedroned inan emotionless monotone.

'Ournorthernallieshaveonceagainprovedinvaluable.'

Poulder's red-jacketedstaff frowned and grumbled.'They played a part,' theGeneralwasforcedtoadmit.

'Their leader, theDogman,cametouswiththeoriginal plan, executed ithimself using his own men,and delivered the town toyou, its gates open and its

people compliant. That wasmyunderstanding.'

Poulder frowned angrilyacrossatKroy,whowasnowallowing himself the verythinnest of smiles. 'My menare in possession of the cityandarealreadybuildingupastockpile of supplies! Wehave outflanked the enemyand forced him to fall backtowards Carleon! That,

Colonel West, is surely theissue here, and not preciselywhodidwhat!'

'Indeed!' cut in Burr,waving one big hand. 'Youhavebothdonegreatservicesfor your country. But wemust now look forward tofuture successes. GeneralKroy, arrange for workparties to be left behind tocomplete the repairs to

Dunbrec, and a regiment oflevies to man the defences.With a commander thatknowshisbusiness,please.Itwould be embarrassing, tosay the least, if we were tolose the fortress for a secondtime.'

'Therewillbenomistake,'snarledKroyatPoulder, 'youcandependonit.'

'The rest of the army can

crosstheWhiteflowandformup on the far bank. Thenwecan begin to press east andnorthward, towards Carleon,usingtheharbouratUffrithtobring in our supplies. WehavedriventheenemyoutofAngland.Nowwemustpressforward and grind Bethod tohis knees.' And the Marshaltwisted a heavy fist into hispalm by way of

demonstration.'My division will be

across the river by tomorrowevening,' hissed Poulder atKroy,'andingoodorder!'

Burr grimaced. 'Wemustmove carefully,whatever theClosedCouncil say. The lasttime a Union army crossedthe Whiteflow was whenKing Casamir invaded theNorth. I need hardly remind

you that he was forced towithdraw in some disarray.Bethod has caught us outbefore, and will only growstronger ashe falls back intohis own territory. We mustwork together. This is not acompetition,gentlemen.'

The two generalsimmediately competed witheach other to be the one toagreemost.Westgavealong

sigh,andrubbedatthebridgeofhisnose.

TheNewMan

«^»

'And so we return.' Bayazfrowned towards the city: abright, white crescent spreadoutaround theglitteringbay.

Slowlybutdecisivelyitcamecloser, reaching out andwrapping Jezal in itswelcoming embrace. Thefeatures grew distinct, greenparks peeping out betweenthe houses, white spiresthrustingupfromthemassofbuildings. He could see thetoweringwallsoftheAgriont,sunlight glinting fromburnished domes above. The

House of the Maker loomedhigh over all, but even thatforbiddingmassnowseemed,somehow,tospeakofwarmthandsafety.

He was home. He hadsurvived. It felt like ahundred years since he hadstood at the stern of a notdissimilarship,miserableandforlorn, watching Adua slidesadly away into the distance.

Over the surging water, thesnapping sailcloth, the criesof the seabirds, he began todistinguishthedistantrumbleofthecity.Itsoundedlikethemostwonderfulmusichehadever heard. He closed hiseyes and dragged the air inhardthroughhisnostrils.Therottensalttangofthebaywassweetashoneyonhistongue.

'One takes ityouenjoyed

thetrip,then,Captain?'askedBayaz,withheavyirony.

Jezalcouldonlygrin.'I'menjoyingtheendofit.'

'No need to bedownhearted,'offeredBrotherLongfoot. 'Sometimes adifficult journey does notdeliver its full benefit untillong after one returns. Thetrials are brief, but thewisdom gained lasts a

lifetime!''Huh.' The First of the

Magi curled his lip. 'Travelbrings wisdom only to thewise. It renders the ignorantmore ignorant than ever.Master Ninefingers! Are youdetermined to return to theNorth?'

Logen took a brief breakfrom frowning at the water.'I'vegotnoreasontostay.'He

glanced sideways at Ferro,andsheglaredback.

'Whylookatme?'Logen shook his head.

'Do you knowwhat? I've nofucking idea.' If there hadbeen anything vaguelyresembling a romancebetween them, it appearednow to have collapsedirreparably into a sullendislike.

'Well,'saidBayaz,raisinghis brows, 'if you aredecided.'Heheldhishandoutto the Northman and Jezalwatched them shake. 'GiveBethodakickfromme,onceyou have him under yourboot.'

'ThatIwill,unlesshegetsmeunderhis.'

'Never easy, kickingupwards.My thanks foryour

help, and for your manners.Perhapsyouwillbemyguestagain,oneday,atthelibrary.Wewill lookout at the lake,and laugh about our highadventures in thewestof theWorld.'

'I'llhopeforit.'ButLogenhardly lookedas if therewasmuch laughter in him, ormuchhope either.He lookedlikeamanwhohadrunoutof

choices.In silence Jezal watched

as the ropes were throwndown to the quay and madefast, the long gangplanksquealedout totheshoreandscraped onto the stones.Bayaz called out to hisapprentice. 'Master Quai!Time for us to disembark!'And the pale young manfollowed his master down

from the ship without abackward glance, BrotherLong-footbehindthem.

'Good luck, then,' saidJezal, offering his hand toLogen.

'And to you.' TheNorthman grinned, ignoredthehandand foldedhim inatight andunpleasant-smellingembrace. They stayed therefor a somewhat touching,

somewhat embarrassingmoment, then Ninefingersclappedhimon thebackandlethimgo.

'Perhaps I'll see you, upthere in the North.' Jezal'svoicewasjusttheslightestbitcracked, in spite of all hisefforts.'Iftheysendme…'

'Maybe, but… I think I'llhopenot.LikeIsaid,ifIwasyou I'd find a good woman

and leave thekilling to thosewithlesssense.'

'Likeyou?''Aye.Likeme.'Helooked

over at Ferro. 'So that's itthen,eh,Ferro?'

'Uh.' She shrugged herscrawnyshoulders,andstrodeoffdownthegangplank.

Logen's face twitched atthat. 'Right,' he muttered at

herback.'Niceknowingyou.'Hewaggled the stumpofhismissing finger at Jezal. 'Sayone thing for LogenNinefingers, say he's got atouchwiththewomen.'

'Mmm.''Aye.''Right.' Jezal was finding

actually leaving strangelydifficult. They had been

almost constant companionsfor the last six months. Tobeginwithhehadfeltnothingbutcontemptfortheman,butnow that it came to it, itwaslikeleavingamuch-respectedolder brother. Far worse, infact, for Jezal had neverthought too highly of hisactual brothers. So hedithered on the deck, andLogen grinned at him as

though he guessed just whathewasthinking.

'Don'tworry.I'lltrytogetalongwithoutyou.'

Jezal managed half asmile. 'Just try to rememberwhatI toldyou, ifyouget inanotherfight.'

'I'd say, unfortunately,that'sprettymuchacertainty.'

Then there was really

nothing Jezal could do butturnawayandclatterdowntothe shore, pretending thatsomethinghadblownintohiseye on the way. It seemed alongwalktothebusyquay,tostandnexttoBayazandQuai,LongfootandFerro.

'Master Ninefingers canlookafterhimself, Idaresay,'saidtheFirstoftheMagi.

'Oh,yesindeed,'chuckled

Longfoot,'fewbetter!'Jezaltookalastlookback

over his shoulder as theyheaded off into the city.Logenraisedonehandtohimfrom the railof the ship,andthen the corner of awarehouse came betweenthem,andhewasgone.Ferroloitered for a moment,frowning back towards thesea, her fists clenched and a

muscleworkingonthesideofherhead.ThensheturnedandsawJezalwatchingher.

'Whatareyoulookingat?'Andshepushedpasthimandfollowed the others, into theswarmingstreetsofAdua.

ThecitywasjustasJezalremembered it, and yeteverythingwasdifferent.Thebuildings seemed to haveshrunk and huddled in

meanly together. Even thewide Middleway, the greatcentral artery of the city, felthorribly squashed after thehuge open spaces of the OldEmpire, the awe-inspiringvistas of ruined Aulcus. Theskyhadbeenhigher,outthereon the great plain. Hereeverythingwas reduced, and,to make matters worse, hadan unpleasant smell he had

neverbeforenoticed.Hewentwith his nose wrinkled,dodging between thebuffeting flow of passers-bywithbadgrace.

It was the people thatwere strangest of all. It hadbeen months since Jezal hadseen more than ten at onetime. Now there weresuddenly thousands pressedin all around him, furiously

intent on their own doings.Soft, and scrubbed, anddecked out in gaudy colours,as freakish to him now ascircus performers. Fashionshad moved on while he wasaway facing death in thebarren west of the World.Hatswerewornatadifferentangle, sleeveshad swollen toawider cut, shirt collars hadshrivelled to a length that

would have been thoughtpreposterously short a yearbefore. Jezal snorted tohimself. It seemed bizarrethatsuchnonsensecouldeverhave interested him, and hewatchedagroupofperfumeddandiesstruttingpastwiththehighestcontempt.

Their group dwindled asthey passed on through thecity.FirstLongfootmadehis

effusive farewellswithmuchpressing of hands, talk ofhonours and privileges, andpromisesofreunionthatJezalsuspected, and indeed ratherhoped, were insincere. NearthegreatmarketsquareoftheFour Corners, Quai wasdispatchedonsomeerrandorother with all his habitualsullen silence. That left onlythe First of the Magi as a

companion, with Ferroslouching angrily alongbehind.

Beinghonest,Jezalwouldnot have minded had thegroup dwindled considerablyfurther. Ninefingers mighthave proved himself astaunch companion, but therest of the dysfunctionalfamily would hardly havebeen among Jezal's chosen

dinner guests. He had longago given up any hope thatFerro's armour of scowlswouldcracktorevealacaringsoul within. But at least herabysmal temper waspredictable. Bayaz, ifanything, was an even moreunnerving companion: onehalf grand-fatherly goodhumour, the other half whoknew what? Whenever the

old man opened his mouthJezal flinched in anticipationofsomeuglysurprise.

But he chatted pleasantlyenough for the time being.'Might I askwhat your plansarenow,CaptainLuthar?'

'Well, I suppose Iwillbesent to Angland, to fightagainsttheNorthmen.'

'I imagine so. Although

we never know what turnsfatemaytake.'

Jezal did not much carefor the sound of that. 'Andyou?Willyoubegoingbackto…' He realised he had nottheslightestideaofwheretheMagus had appeared from inthefirstplace.

'Not quite yet. I willremain in Adua for themoment. Great things are

afoot, my boy, great things.PerhapsIwillstaytoseehowtheyturnout.'

'Move,bitch!'cameayellfromthesideoftheroad.

Threemembersofthecitywatch had gathered round adirty-faced girl in a tattereddress.Onewas leaningdownoverherwithastickclenchedin his fist, shouting in herface while she cringed back.

An unhappy-seeming presshad gathered to watch,workmen and labourersmostly, scarcely cleaner thanthebeggarherself.

'Why don't you let herbe?'onegrumbled.

One of the watchmentook awarning step at them,raising his stick, while hisfriend seized hold of thebeggar by her shoulder,

kicking over a cup in theroad, sending a few coinstinklingintothegutter.

'That seems excessive,'saidJezalunderhisbreath.

'Well.' Bayaz watcheddownhisnose. 'Thesesortofthings happen all the time.Are you telling me you'venever seen a beggar movedalongbefore?'

Jezal had, of course,often, and never raised aneyebrow. Beggars could notsimplybelefttoclutterupthestreets, after all. And yet forsome reason the processwasmaking him uncomfortable.The unfortunate waif kickedandcried,andtheguardsmandraggedheranotherstrideonher back with entirelyunnecessary violence, clearly

enjoying himself. It was notso much the act itself thatJezalobjectedto,asthattheywould do it in front of himwithout a thought for hisfeelings. It rendered himsomehowcomplicit.

'That is a disgrace,' hehissedthroughgrittedteeth.

Bayaz shrugged. 'If itbothers you that much, whynotdosomethingaboutit?'

Thewatchman chose thatmoment to seize the girl byherscruffyhairandgiveherasharpblowwithhisstick,andshe squealed and fell, herarmsoverherhead.Jezalfelthisfacetwist.Inamomenthehad shoved through thecrowd and dealt the man aresounding boot to hisbackside, sending himsprawling in the gutter. One

of his companions cameforwardwithhisstickout,butstumbled back a momentlater.Jezalrealisedhehadhissteels drawn, the polishedblades glinting in theshadowsbesidethebuilding.

The audience gasped andedgedback.Jezalblinked.Hehadnotintendedthebusinessto go anything like this far.Damn Bayaz and his idiotic

advice.Buttherewasnothingfor it now but to carry itthrough.Heassumedhismostfearless and arrogantexpression.

'One step further and I'llstick you like the swine youare.' He looked from one ofthe watchmen to the other.'Well?Doanyofyoucare totest me?' He earnestly hopedthatnoneof themdid,buthe

need not haveworried. Theywere predictably cowardly inthe face of determinedresistance, and loitered justoutofrangeofhissteels.

'No one deals with thewatch like that. We'll findyou,youcandependon—'

'Finding me will presentno difficulty. My name isCaptainLuthar,of theKing'sOwn. I am resident in the

Agriont. You cannot miss it.It is the fortress thatdominates the city!' And hejabbed up the street with hislongsteel,makingoneof thewatchmen stumble away infear. 'I will receive you atyour convenience and youcan explain to my patron,Lord Marshal Varuz, yourdisgraceful behaviourtowardsthiswoman,acitizen

of the Union guilty of nogreater crime than beingpoor!'

A ludicrously overblownspeech,ofcourse.Jezalfoundhimself almost flushing withembarrassment at that lastpart.Hehadalwaysdespisedpoor people, and he was farfrom sure his opinions hadfundamentally changed, buthe got carried away halfway

through and had no choicebuttofinishwithaflourish.

Still, his words had theireffect on the citywatch.Thethree men backed away, forsomereasongrinningasifthewholebusinesshadgone justastheyplanned,leavingJezalto the unwanted approval ofthecrowd.

'Welldone,lad!'

'Good thing someone'sgotsomeguts.'

'Whatdidhesayhisnamewas?'

'Captain Luthar!' roaredBayaz suddenly, causingJezal to jerk round halfwaythrough sheathing his steels.'CaptainJezaldanLuthar,thewinner of last year'sContest,just now returned from hisadventures in the west!

Luthar,thename!''Luthar,didhesay?''The one who won the

Contest?''That's him! I saw him

beatGorst!'The whole crowd were

staring, wide-eyed andrespectful. One of themreached out, as though totouchthehemofhiscoat,and

Jezal stumbled backwards,almost tripping over thebeggar-girlwhohadbeenthecauseofthewholefiasco.

'Thank you,' she gushed,inanuglycommoner'saccentrendered still less appealingby her bloody mouth. 'Oh,thankyou,sir.'

'It was nothing.' Jezaledged away, deeplyuncomfortable. She was

extremely dirty, at closequarters, and he had nowishto contract an illness. Theattention of the group as awhole was, in fact, anythingbutpleasant.Hecontinued toshufflebackwardswhile theywatched him, all smiles andadmiringmutterings.

Ferro was frowning athim as they moved awayfrom the Four Corners. 'Is

theresomething?'hesnapped.Sheshrugged. 'You'renot

asmuch of a coward as youwere.'

'My thanks for that epicpraise.'HeroundedonBayaz.'Whatthehellwasthat?'

'That was you carryingout a charitable act,my boy,and I was proud to see it. Itwould seemmy lessonshave

not been entirely wasted onyou.'

'I meant,' growled Jezal,who felt himself to havegainedlessthannothingfromBayaz' constant lecturing,'what were you about,proclaiming my name to alland sundry? The story willnowspreadallovertown!'

'Ihadnotconsideredthat.'The Magus gave a faint

smile. 'I simply felt that youdeserved the credit for yournoble actions. Helping thoseless fortunate, the aid of aladyindistress,protectingtheweak and so forth.Admirable,truly.'

'But—' muttered Jezal,unsurewhetherhewasbeingtakenforafool.

'Here our paths diverge,myyoungfriend.'

'Oh.Theydo?''Where are you going?'

snappedFerrosuspiciously.'I have a few matters to

attend to,' said the Magus,'andyouwillbecomingwithme.'

'Why would I do that?'Sheappearedtobeinaworsemood even than usual sincethey left the docks, which

wasnomeanachievement.Bayaz' eyes rolled to the

sky. 'Because you lack thesocial graces necessary tofunction for longer than fiveminutesonyourowninsucha place as this. Why else?YouwillbegoingbacktotheAgriont, I assume?' he askedJezal.

'Yes.Yes,ofcourse.'

'Well, then. I would liketothankyou,CaptainLuthar,forthepartyouplayedinthatlittleadventureofours.'

'How dare you, youmagical arsehole? The entirebusiness was a colossal,painful, disfiguring waste ofmy time, and a failure toboot.' But what Jezal reallysaidwas, 'Ofcourse,yes.'Hetook the old man's hand,

preparing to give it a limpshake.'Ithasbeenanhonour.'

Bayaz' grip wasshockinglyfirm.'Thatisgoodto hear.' Jezal found himselfdrawn very close to the oldman's face, staring into hisglittering green eyes atunnervingly close quarters.'We may have the need tocollaborateagain.'

Jezalblinked.Collaborate

really was an ugly choice ofword. 'Well then… er…perhaps I will… see youlater?' Never would havebeen preferable, in hisopinion.

But Bayaz only grinnedasheletgoofJezal'sbuzzingfingers. 'Oh, I feel sure weshallmeetagain.'

The sun shone pleasantlythrough the branches of thearomatic cedar, casting adappled shade on the groundbeneath, just as it used to.Apleasant breeze flutteredthroughthecourtyardandthebirds twittered in thebranches of the trees, just asthey always had. The oldbuildingsof thebarrackshadnot changed, crowding in,

coatedwithrustlingivyonallsidesofthenarrowcourtyard.But there the similarity toJezal's happy memoriesended.Adustingofmosshadcreptupthelegsofthechairs,the surface of the table hadacquireda thickcrustofbirddroppings,thegrasshadgoneundipped for weeks on endand seed-heads thrashed atJezal'scalvesashewandered

past.The players themselves

were long gone. Hewatchedthe shadows shifting on thegrey wood, remembering thesound of their laughter, thetaste of smoke and strongspirits,thefeelofthecardsinhishand.HereJalenhormhadsat, playing at being toughand manly. Here Kaspa hadlaughed at jokes at his own

expense. Here West hadleaned back and shaken hishead with resigneddisapproval. Here Brint hadshuffled nervously at hishand,hopingforbigwinsthatnevercame.

AndherehadbeenJezal'splace. He dragged the chairout from the clutching grass,sat down in it with one bootupon the table and rocked it

onto its rear legs. It seemedhard to believe, now, that hehad sat here, watching andscheming, thinking abouthowbest tomakehis friendsseem small. He told himselfhewouldneverhaveengagedin any such foolishness now.No more than a couple ofhands,anyway.

If he had thought that athorough wash, a careful

shave, a plucking of bristlesand a long-winded arrangingof hairwouldmake him feelathome,hewasdisappointed.Thefamiliarroutineslefthimfeeling like a stranger in hisowndustyrooms.Itwashardto become excited over theshining of the boots andbuttons,orthearrangementofthegoldbraidjustso.

When he finally stood

beforethemirror,wherelongago he had whiled away somany delightful hours, hefoundhisreflectiondecidedlyunnerving. A lean andweather-worn adventurerstared bright-eyed from theVisserine glass, his sandybeard doing little to disguisethe ugly scar down his bentjaw. His old uniforms wereall unpleasantly tight,

scratchilystarched,chokinglyconstricted round the collar.He no longer felt like hebelonged in them to anydegree.Henolongerfeltlikeasoldier.

He scarcely even knewwhoheshouldreportto,afterall this time away. Everyofficerhewasawareof,moreor less,waswith thearmyinAngland. He supposed he

could have sought out LordMarshalVaruz,hadhe reallywantedto,butthefactwashehad learned enough aboutdanger now to not want torush at it. He would do hisduty, if hewas asked. But itwouldhavetofindhimfirst.

In the meantime, he hadother business to attend to.The very thought made himterrified and thrilled at once,

andhepushedafingerinsidehis collar and tugged at it inan effort to relieve thepressure in his throat. It didnot work. Still, as LogenNinefingershadbeensoveryfond of saying: it was bettertodo it, than to livewith thefear of it. He picked up hisdress sword, but after aminute of staring at theabsurd brass scrollwork on

the hilt, he tossed it on thefloor and kicked it under hisbed. Look less than you are,Logen would have said. Heretrievedhistravel-wornlongsteel and slid it through theclasponhisbelt, tookadeepbreath, and walked to thedoor.

There was nothingintimidating about the street.

It was a quiet part of town,far off from chatteringcommerce and rumblingindustry. In the next road aknife sharpenerwas throatilyproclaiming his trade. Underthe eaves of the modesthouses a pigeon coo-cooedhalfheartedly. Somewherenearby thesoundofcloppinghooves and cracklingcarriage-wheels rose and

faded. Otherwise all wasquiet.

He had already walkedpast the house once in eachdirection,anddarednotdosoagain for fear that Ardeewould see him through awindow, recognise him, andwonderwhat the hell hewasup to.Sohemadecircuitsofthe upper part of the street,practisingwhathewouldsay

when she appeared at thedoor.

'I am returned.' No, no,too high-blown. 'Hello, howare you?'No, too casual. 'It'sme, Luthar.' Too stiff.'Ardee… I've missed you.'Too needy. He saw a manfrowning at him from anupstairs window, and hecoughed and made offquickly towards the house,

murmuring to himself overand over. 'Better to do it,better to do it, better to doit…'

His fist pounded againstthe wood. He stood andwaited,heart thumping inhisteeth. The latch clicked andJezal put on his mostingratiating smile. The dooropened and a short, round-faced and highly unattractive

girl stared at him from thedoorway. There could be nodoubt, however things hadchanged, that she was notArdee.'Yes?'

'Er…' A servant. Howcould he have been such afool as to thinkArdeewouldopenherownfrontdoor?Shewas a commoner, not abeggar.Heclearedhisthroat.'I am returned… I mean to

say… does Ardee West livehere?'

'She does.' The maidopened the door far enoughfor Jezal to step through intothedimhallway.'WhoshallIsayiscalling?'

'CaptainLuthar.'Her head snapped round

as though it had an invisiblestring attached to it and he

had given it a sudden jerk.'Captain…JezaldanLuthar?'

'Yes,' he muttered,mystified. Could Ardee havebeendiscussinghimwith thehelp?

'Oh… oh, if you wait…'The maid pointed to adoorwayandhurriedoff,eyeswide,quiteas if theEmperorofGurkhulhadcomecalling.

Thedimlivingroomgavetheimpressionofhavingbeendecorated by someone withtoo much money, too littletaste, and not nearly enoughspace for their ambitions.There were several garishlyupholstered chairs, an over-sized and over-decoratedcabinet, and a monumentalcanvas on one wall which,haditbeenanybigger,would

have required the room tobeknocked through into theneighbouring house. Twodusty shafts of light came inthrough the gaps in thecurtains, gleaming on thehighly polished, if slightlywonky, surfaceof an antiquetable. Each piecemight havepassedmusteronitsown,butcrowded together the effectwas quite suffocating. Still,

Jezal told himself as hefrownedroundatitall,hehadcome for Ardee, not for herfurniture.

It was ridiculous. Hisknees were weak, his mouthwas dry, his head wasspinning, and with everymoment that passed it gotworse. He had not felt thisscared in Aulcus, with acrowd of screaming Shanka

bearing down on him. Hetook a nervous circuit of theroom, fists clenching andunclenching. He peered outinto the quiet street. Heleaned over a chair toexamine the massivepainting.Amuscular-seemingking lounged in an outsizecrown while fur-trimmedlords bowed and scrapedaround his feet. Harod the

Great, Jezal guessed, but therecognitionbroughthimlittlejoy. Bayaz' favourite andmost tiresome topic ofconversation had been theachievements of that man.Harod the Great could bepickled in vinegar for allJezal cared. Harod the Greatcouldgo—

'Well,well,well…'Shestoodinthedoorway,

bright light from the hallbeyond glowing in her darkhair and down the edges ofher white dress, her head ononesideandthefaintestghostof a smile on her shadowyface. She seemed hardly tohave changed. So often inlife, moments that are longanticipated turn out to beprofound disappointments.Seeing Ardee again, after all

that time apart, wasundoubtedly an exception.All his carefully preparedconversation evaporated inthat one instant, leaving himas empty-headed as he hadbeen when he first laid eyesonher.

'You're alive, then,' shemurmured.

'Yes… er… just about.'Hemanagedhalfanawkward

smile. 'Did you think I wasdead?'

'I hoped you were.' Thatwiped the grin off his facewith sharp effect. 'When Ididn'tgetsomuchasaletter.ButreallyIthoughtyou'djustforgottenaboutme.'

Jezalwinced. 'I'm sorry Ididn't write. Very sorry. Iwanted to…' She swung thedoor shut and leaned against

itwith her hands behind her,frowningathimallthewhile.'There wasn't a day I didn'twantto.ButIwascalledfor,and never had the chance totell anyone, not even myfamily. I was… I was faraway,inthewest.'

'I know you were. Thewholecityisbuzzingwithit,and if I've heard, it must becommonknowledgeindeed.'

'You'veheard?'Ardee jerked her head

towardsthehall.'Ihaditfromthemaid.'

'Fromthemaid?'Howthehell could anyone in Aduahaveheardanythingabouthismisadventures, let aloneArdee West's maid? He wasassailed with suddenunpleasing images. Crowdsof servants giggling at the

thought of him lying aroundcrying over his broken face.Everyone who was anyonegossiping about what a foolhe must have looked beingfedwithaspoonbyascarredbrute of aNorthman.He felthimselfblushingtothetipsofhisears.'Whatdidshesay?'

'Oh, you know.' Shewandered absently into theroom. 'That you scaled the

walls at the siege ofDarmium,wasit?Openedthegates to the Emperor's menandsoon.'

'What?' He was evenmore baffled than before.'Darmium? I mean to say…whotoldher…'

She came closer, andcloser,andhegrewmoreandmore flustered until hestammered to a stop. Closer

yet, and she was lookingslightlyupwardsintohisfacewithher lipsparted.Soclosethat he was sure she wasgoingtotakehiminherarmsandkisshim.Soclosethatheleaned forward slightly inanticipation, half-closing hiseyes,hislipstingling…Thenshe passed him, her hairnearly flicking in his face,and went on to the cabinet,

opening it and taking out adecanter,leavinghimbehind,maroonedonthecarpet.

In gormless silence hewatched her fill two glassesand offer one out, winesloppingandtricklingstickilydown the side. 'You'vechanged.' Jezal felt a suddensurge of shame and his handjerkeduptocoverhisscarredjaw on an instinct. 'I don't

mean that. Not just that,anyway. Everything. You'redifferent,somehow.'

'I…'Theeffectshehadonhimwas,ifanything,strongernow than it used tobe.Thenthere had not been all theweightofexpectation, all thelong day-dreaming andanticipation out in thewilderness. 'I'vemissed you.'He said it without thinking,

then found himself flushingandhadtotryandchangethesubject.'Haveyouheardfromyourbrother?'

'He's been writing everyweek.' She threw her headback and drained her glass,started to fill it again. 'EversinceI foundouthewasstillalive,anyway.'

'What?'

'I thought he was dead,foramonthormore.Heonlyjustescapedfromthebattle.'

'There was a battle?'squeaked Jezal, just beforerememberingtherewasawaron.Of course therehadbeenbattles.He brought his voiceback under control. 'Whatbattle?'

'The one where PrinceLadislawaskilled.'

'Ladisla's dead?' hesquealed, voice shooting upinto a girlish register again.The few times he had seenthe Crown Prince the manhad seemed so self-absorbedastobeindestructible.Itwashard to believe he couldsimply be stabbed with asword,orshotwithanarrow,anddie, likeanyoneelse,butthereitwas.

'Andthenhisbrotherwasmurdered—'

'Raynault?Murdered?''In his bed in the palace.

When the king dies, they'llchooseanewonebyavoteinOpenCouncil.'

'A vote?' His voice rosesohigh at that he almost feltsome sick at the back of histhroat.

She was already fillingher glass again. 'Uthman'semissary was hanged for themurder, despite most likelybeing innocent, and so thewar with the Gurkish isdraggingon—'

'We're at war with theGurkishaswell?'

'Dagoska fell at the startoftheyear.'

'Dagoska… fell?' Jezalemptiedhisglass inonelongswallow and stared at thecarpet, trying to fit it all intohishead.Heshouldnothavebeensurprised,ofcourse,thatthingshadmovedonwhilehewas away, but he had hardlyexpected the world to turnupside down. War with theGurkish,battles in theNorth,votestochooseanewking?

'Youneedanother?'askedArdee, tilting the decanter inherhand.

'I think I'd better.' Greatevents, of course, just asBayaz had said. He watchedher pour, frowning downintently, almost angrily, asthewinegurgledout.Hesawalittlescaronhertoplipthathe had never noticed before,and he felt a sudden

compulsion to touch it, andpush his fingers in her hair,and hold her against him.Great events, but it allseemed of small importancecompared to what happenednow, in this room. Whoknew?The course of his lifemight turn on the next fewmoments,ifhecouldfindtheright words, and makehimselfsaythem.

'I reallydidmissyou,'hemanaged. A miserable effortwhich she dismissed with abittersnort.

'Don'tbeafool.'He caught her hand,

making her look him in theeye. 'I've been a fool all mylife. Not now. There weretimes, out there on the plain,the only thing that kept mealive was the thought that…

that I might be with youagain.Everyday Iwanted tosee you…' She did nothingbut frown back at him,entirelyunmoved.Herfailureto melt into his arms washighlyfrustrating,afterallhehad been through. 'Ardee,please, I didn't come here toargue.'

She scowled at the flooras she threw down another

glass. 'I don't knowwhyyoudidcomehere.'

'BecauseIloveyou,andIwant never to be separatedfrom you again! Please, tellmethatyouwillbemywife!'He almost said it, but at thelast moment he saw herscornful sneer, and hestopped himself. He hadentirely forgotten howdifficultshecouldbe.'Icame

heretosaythatI'msorry.Iletyoudown,Iknow.IcameassoonasIcould,butIseethatyou're not in the mood. I'llcomebacklater.'

He brushed past her andmade for the door butArdeegottherefirst,twistedthekeyin the lock and snatched itout. 'You leave me all alonehere, without so much as aletter, then when you come

back you want to leavewithoutevenakiss?'Shetooka lurching step at him andJezal found himself backingoff.

'Ardee,you'redrunk.'Sheflickedherheadwith

annoyance. 'I'm alwaysdrunk. Didn't you say youmissedme?'

'But,'hemuttered,starting

for some reason to feelslightlyscared,'Ithought—'

'There's your problem,yousee?Thinking.You'renogood at it.' She herded himback against the edge of thetable,andhegothisswordsobadlytangledupwithhislegshehadtoputahanddowntostophimselffalling.

'Haven't I been waiting?'shewhispered,andherbreath

onhisfacewashotandsour-sweet with wine. 'Just likeyou asked me?' Her mouthbrushed gently against his,and the tip of her tongueslipped out and lappedagainsthislips,andshemadesoft gurgling sounds in herthroat and pressed herself upagainsthim.Hefeltherhandslide down onto his groin,rubbingathimgentlythrough

histrousers.The feelingwas pleasant,

of course, and caused aninstant stiffening. Pleasant inthe extreme, but more thanslightly worrying. He lookednervously towards the door.'Whatabout the servants?'hecroaked.

'If they don't like it theycan find another fucking job,can't they? They weren't my

idea.''Thenwhose—ah!'Shetwistedherfingersin

hishairanddraggedhisheadpainfully round so she wasspeaking right into his face.'Forget about them! Youcamehereforme,didn'tyou?'

'Yes…yes,ofcourse!''Say it, then!' Her hand

pressed up hard against his

trousers, almost painful, butnotquite.

'Ah…Icameforyou.''Well? Here I am.' And

her fingers fumbled with hisbeltanddragged itopen. 'Noneedtobeshynow.'

He tried to catch herwrist. 'Ardee, wait—' Herother hand caught him astinging slap right across the

face and knocked his headsideways, hard enough tomakehisearsring.

'I've been sitting here forsixmonthsdoingnothing'shehissed in his face, wordsslightly slurred. 'Do youknow how bored I've been?Andnowyou'retellingmetowait?Fuckyourself!'Shedugroughly into his trousers anddraggedhisprickout,rubbing

at him with one hand,squeezingathisfacewiththeotherwhileheclosedhiseyesand gasped shallow breathsintohermouth,nothinginhismindbutherfingers.

Her teeth nipped at hislip, almost painful, and thenharder. 'Ah,'hegrunted. 'Ah!'Shewasdecidedlybitinghim.Bitingwith awill, as thoughhis lipwereapieceofgristle

to be chewed through. Hetried to pull away but thetablewasathisbackandshehad him fast. The pain wasalmost as great as the shock,and then, as the biting wenton,considerablygreater.

'Aargh!' He grabbed holdof her wrist with one handand twisted it behind herback, yanked her arm andshoved her down onto the

table. He heard her gasp asher facecrackedhardagainstthepolishedwood.

Hestoodoverher, frozenwith dismay, hismouth saltywithblood.Hecouldseeonedark eye through Ardee'stangled hair, expressionless,watching him over hertwisted shoulder. The hairmoved round her mouth asshe breathed, fast. He let go

of her wrist, suddenly, sawherarmmove, themarks leftby his fingers angry pink onherskin.Herhandsliddownand took hold of a fistful ofher dress and pulled it up,took another fistful andpulled it up, until her skirtswere all tangled around herwaist and her bare, pale arsewasslickingupathim.

Well.Hemighthavebeen

anewman,buthewasstillaman.

Witheachthrustherheadtappedagainsttheplaster,andhis skin slapped against thebacks of her thighs, and histrousers sagged further andfurtherdownhislegsuntilhissword-hilt was scrapingagainst the carpet.With eachthrust the table made anoutragedcreaking,louderand

louder every time, as thoughthey were fucking over theback of some disapprovingoldman.Witheachthrustshemadeagrunt,andhemadeagasp, not of pleasure or painin particular, but a necessarymoving of air in response tovigorous exercise. It was alloverwithmercifulswiftness.

Sooften in life,momentsthat are long anticipated

prove to be a profounddisappointment. This wasundoubtedly one of thoseoccasions.Whenhehadspentall those interminable hoursout on the plain, saddle-soreand in fear of his life,dreaming of seeing Ardeeagain, a quick and violentcoupling on the table in hertasteless living-room had notbeen quite what he'd had in

mind. When they were donehe pushed his wilting prickback inside his trousers,guilty, and ashamed, andmiserableintheextreme.Thesound of his belt-buckleclinking made him want tosmash his face against thewall.

She got up, and let herskirts drop, and smoothedthem down, her face to the

floor. He reached for hershoulder. 'Ardee—' Sheshook him angrily off, andwalked away. She tossedsomethingonthefloorbehindher and it rattled on thecarpet.Thekeytothedoor.

'Youcango.''Icanwhat?''Go! You got what you

wanted,didn'tyou?'

He licked disbelieving athisbloodylip.'Youthinkthisis what I wanted?' Nothingbutsilence.'Iloveyou.'

Shegaveakindofcough,asifshewasabouttobesick,and she slowly shook herhead.'Why?'

He wasn't sure he knew.He wasn't sure what hemeant, or how he felt anymore. He wanted to start

again, but he didn't knowhow.Thewholethingwasaninexplicable nightmare fromwhich he hoped soon towake. 'What do you mean,why?'

She bent over, fistsclenched, and screamed athim. 'I'm fucking nothing!Everyone who knows mehates me! My own fatherhated me! My own brother!'

Her voice cracked, and herface screwed up, and hermouth spat with anger andmisery. 'Everything I touch Iruin! I'm nothing but shit!Why can't you see it?' Andshe put her hands over herface, and turned her back onhim,andhershouldersshook.

Heblinkedather,hisownlip trembling. The old JezaldanLutharwouldmostlikely

have made a quick grab forthat key, sprinted from theroomandoffdownthestreet,never to come back, andcountedhimselfluckytohavegot away so easily. The newonethoughtaboutit.

He thought about it hard.But he had more characterthan that. Or so he toldhimself.

'I love you.' The words

tasted like lies in his bloodymouth, but he had gone fartoo far now to turn back. 'Istillloveyou.'Hecrossedtheroom,andthoughshetriedtopushhimoffheputhisarmsaround her. 'Nothing'schanged.' He pushed hisfingersintoherhair,andheldher head against his chestwhile she cried softly,sobbing snot down the front

ofhisgarishuniform.'Nothing's changed,' he

whispered. But of course ithad.

FeedingTime

«^»

Theydidnotsit soclose thatit was obvious they weretogether.Twomenwho,inthecourseoftheirdailybusiness,

happen to have placed theirarses on the same piece ofwood. It was early morning,and although the sun cast astingingglareinGlokta'seyesand lent the dewy grass, therustling trees, the shiftingwater in the park a goldenglow, there was still atreacherous nip to the air.Lord Wetterlant wasevidently an early riser. But

then so am I. Nothingencourages a man to leavehisbedlikebeingkeptawakeallnightbysearingcramps.

HisLordshipreachedintoapaperbag,drewoutapinchofbreaddustbetween thumband forefinger, and tossed itat his feet. A mob of self-important ducks had alreadygathered, and now theyfussedateachotherfuriously

in their efforts to get at thecrumbs while the oldnobleman watched them, hislined face a slack andemotionlessmask.

'I am under no illusions,Superior,' he droned, almostwithout moving his lips andwithout looking up at all. 'Iam not a big enoughman tocompete in this contest, evenshouldIwishto.ButIambig

enoughtogetsomethingfromit.I intendtogetwhatIcan.'Straighttobusiness,then,foronce. No need to talk aboutthe weather, or how thechildren are, or the relativemerits of different-colouredducks.

'There is no shame inthat.'

'Idonotthinkso.Ihaveafamily to feed, and it grows

bytheyear.Istronglyadviseagainst too many children.'Hah, That shouldn't be aproblem. 'And then I keepdogs, and they must be fedalso, and have greatappetites.' Wetterlant gave along, wheezing sigh, andtossedthebirdsanotherpinchofbread.'Thehigheryourise,Superior, the moredependents cry at you for

scraps;thatisasadfact.''You carry a large

responsibility, my Lord.'Glokta grimaced at a spasmin his leg, and cautiouslystretched it out until he felthis knee click. 'How large,mightIask?'

'I have my own vote, ofcourse, and control the votesof three other chairs on theOpen Council. Families tied

tomyownbybondsof land,of friendship, of marriage,and of long tradition.' Suchbonds may proveinsubstantialintimessuchasthese.

'You are certain of thosethree?'

WetterlantturnedhiscoldeyesonGlokta.'Iamnofool,Superior.Ikeepmydogswellchained.Iamcertainofthem.

As certain as we can be ofanything, in these uncertaintimes.' He tossed morecrumbsintothegrassandtheducks quacked, and pecked,and beat at each other withtheirwings.

'Fourvotes in total, then.'No mean share of the greatpie.

'Fourvotesintotal.'

Glokta cleared his throat,checked quickly that therewasnoonewithinearshot.Agirl with a tragic face staredlistlessly into the water justdown the path. Twodishevelled officers of theKing'sOwnsatonabenchasfar away on the other side,holding forth to each otherloudly about who had beendrunker the night before.

Might the tragic girl belistening for Lord Brock?Might the two officers reportto High Justice Marovia? Iseeagentseverywhere,anditis just as well. There areagents everywhere. Helowered his voice to awhisper. 'His Eminencewould be willing to offerfifteen thousand marks foreachvote.'

'I see.' Wetterlant'shoodedeyesdidnotsomuchas twitch. 'So little meatwould scarcely satisfy mydogs. It would leave nothingfor my own table. I shouldtellyouthatLordBarezin, ina highly roundabout manner,already offered me eighteenthousandavote,aswellasanexcellent stretch of land thatbordersmyownestates.Deer

hunting woods. Are you ahuntingman,Superior?'

'Iwas.'Glokta tapped hisruined leg. 'Butnot for sometime.'

'Ah. My commiserations.Ihavealwayslovedthesport.ButthenLordBrockcametovisit me.'How charming foryou both. 'He was goodenough to make an offer oftwenty thousand, and a very

suitable match of hisyoungest daughter for myeldestson.'

'Youaccepted?''Itoldhimitwastooearly

toacceptanything.''I am sure his Eminence

could stretch to twenty-one,butthatwouldhavetobe—'

'High Justice Marovia'sman already offered me

twenty-five.''Harlen Morrow?' hissed

Glokta throughhis remainingteeth.

LordWetterlant raisedaneyebrow. 'I believe that wasthename.'

'I regret that I can onlymatch that offer at present. Iwill inform his Eminence ofyour position.'His delight, I

am sure, will know nobounds.

'I lookforwardtohearingfrom you, Superior.'Wetterlant turnedback tohisducks and permitted them afew more crumbs, a vaguesmilehoveringroundhis lipsas he watched them tusslewitheachother.

Glokta hobbled painfully upto the ordinary house in theunexceptional street,somethingresemblingasmileonhisface.Amomentfreeofthe suffocating company ofthe great and the good. Amoment in which I do nothavetolie,orcheat,orwatchfor a knife in my back.PerhapsI'llevenfindaroomthat doesn't still stink of

Harlen Morrow. That wouldbearefreshing—

The door opened sharplyeven as he raised his fist toknock,andhewasleftstaringinto the grinning face of aman wearing the uniform ofanofficer intheKing'sOwn.It was so unexpected thatGloktadidnot recognisehimat first. Then he felt a surgeofdismay.

'Why, Captain Luthar.What a surprise.' And athoroughlyunpleasantone.

He was considerablychanged.Where once he hadbeen boyish and smooth, hehad acquired a somewhatangular, even a weather-beaten look. Where once hehad carried his chin with anarrogant lift, he now had analmost apologetic tilt to his

face. He had grown a beardtoo, perhaps in anunsuccessful attempt todisguise a vicious-lookingscarthroughhislipanddownhis jaw. Though it has farfromrenderedhimugly,alas.

'InquisitorGlokta…er…''Superior.''Really?'Lutharblinkedat

himforamoment.'Well…in

that case…' The easy smilereappeared, and Glokta wassurprised to find himselfbeing shaken warmly by thehand. 'Congratulations. Iwould love to chat but dutycalls. I haven't long in thecity, you see. Off to theNorth,andsoon.'

'Of course.' Gloktafrowned after him as hestepped jauntily off up the

street, with just the onefurtive glance over hisshoulder as he rounded thecorner. Leaving only thequestion of why hewas herein the first place. Gloktahobbled through the opendoor and shut it quietlybehind him. Althoughhonestly, a young manleaving a young woman'shouse in the early morning?

One scarcely requires hisMajesty's Inquisition to solvethatparticularmystery.DidInotleavemorethanmyshareof residences in the earlyhours, after all? Pretendingto hope that I wasn'tobserved, but really ratherhopingthatIwas?Hepassedthrough thedoorway into theliving room. Or was that adifferentman?

Ardee West stood withherbacktohim,andheheardthe sound of wine tricklinginto a glass. 'Did you forgetsomething?' she asked overher shoulder, voice soft andplayful.NotatoneIoftengetto hear women use. Horror,disgust, and the slightesttouch of pity are morecommon. There was aclinkingas sheput thebottle

away.'Ordidyoudecideyoureally couldn't live withoutanother—'Shehadacrookedsmile on her face as sheturned, but it slid offsuddenly when she saw whowasstandingthere.

Glokta snorted. 'Don'tworry, I get that reactionfrom everyone. Evenmyself,every morning, when I lookinto themirror.' If Icaneven

manage to stand up in frontofthedamnthing.

'It'snot like that,andyouknow it. I just wasn'texpectingyoutowanderin.'

'We've all had quite theshock this morning, then.You'll never guess who Ipassedinyourhallway.'

She froze for just amoment,thentossedherhead

dismissivelyandslurpedwinefrom her glass. 'Aren't yougoingtogivemeaclue?'

'Alright, I will.' Gloktawincedasheloweredhimselfinto a chair, stretching hisachinglegoutinfrontofhim.'AyoungofficerintheKing'sOwn, no doubt with ascintillating future ahead ofhim.'Thoughwecanallhopeotherwise.

Ardee glared at him overthe rim. 'There are so manyofficers in the King's Own Ican scarcely tell one fromanother.'

'Really?Thisonewonlastyear'sContest,Ibelieve.'

'I hardly remember whowasinthefinal.Everyyearislikethelast,don'tyoufind?'

'True. Since I competed

it's been straight downhill.But I thought you mightremember this particularfellow.Lookedasifsomeonemighthavehithiminthefacesincewelastmet.Quitehard,Iwouldsay.'ThoughnothalfashardasI'dhaveliked.

'You're angry with me,'she said, but without theappearance of the slightestconcern.

'I'd say disappointed. Butwhat would you expect? Ithought you were clevererthanthis.'

'Cleverness is noguarantee of sensiblebehaviour.My father used tosay so all the time.' Shefinished her wine with apractised flick of her head.'Don'tworry. Ican lookaftermyself.'

'No you can't. You'vemade that abundantly clear.Yourealisewhatwillhappenif people find out? You'll beshunned.'

'What would be thedifference?' she sneered athim. 'Perhaps you'll besurprised to learn I get fewinvitationstothepalacenow.I barely even qualify as anembarrassment. No one

speakstome.'Apartfromme,of course, but I'm hardly thetype of company youngwomen hope for. 'No onecaresashitwhatIdo.Iftheyfind out it will be no worsethan they expect from aslattern like me. Damncommoners, no more self-control than animals, don'tyou know. Anyway, didn'tyoutellmeIcouldfuckwho

Ipleased?''I also told you the less

fuckingthebetter.''AndIsupposethat'swhat

youtoldallyourconquests,isit?'

Glokta grimaced. Notexactly. I coaxed and Ipleaded, I threatened and Ibullied. Your beauty haswoundedme,woundedme in

the heart! I am wretched, Iwill die without you! Haveyounopity?Doyounot loveme?Idideverythingshortofdisplay the instruments, thenwhen I got what I wanted Itossed them aside and wentmerrily on to the next withneverabackwardglance.

'Hah!' snorted Ardee, asthough she guessed what hewas thinking. 'Sand dan

Glokta,givinglecturesonthebenefits of chastity? Please!How many women did youruin before the Gurkishruined you? You werenotorious!'

A muscle began totremble in his neck, and heworked his shoulder rounduntil he felt it soften. Shemakesafairpoint.Perhapsasoftwordwith thegentleman

inquestionwilldothetrick.Asoft word, or a hard nightwith Practical Frost. 'Yourbed,yourbusiness,Isuppose,as they say in Styria. HowdoesthegreatCaptainLutharcome to be among theciviliansinanycase?Doesn'the have Northmen to rout?Who will save Angland,whilehe'shere?'

'Hewasn'tinAngland.'

'No?' Father find him anice,outof thewayspot,didhe?

'He's been in the OldEmpire,orsomesuch.Acrossthe sea to the west and faraway.' She sighed as thoughshe had heard a great dealabout it and was nowthoroughly bored of thesubject.

'Old Empire? What the

hellwasheuptooutthere?''Why don't you ask him?

Somejourney.Hetalkedalotabout a Northman.Ninefingers,orsomething.'

Glokta's head jerked up.'Ninefingers?'

'Mmm.Himandsomeoldbaldman.'

A flurry of twitches randown Glokta's face. 'Bayaz.'

Ardee shrugged and swiggedfromher glass again, alreadydeveloping a slight drunkenclumsinesstohermovements.Bayaz. All we need, with anelection coming, is that oldliarstickinghishairlessheadin. 'Is he here, now, in thecity?'

'How should I know?'grumbled Ardee. 'Nobodytellsmeanything.'

SoMuchinCommon

«^»

Ferrostalkedroundtheroom,and scowled. She poured her

scorn out into the sweet-smellingair,ontotherustlinghangings, over the greatwindows and the highbalcony beyond them. Shesneeredatthedarkpicturesoffat pale kings, at the shiningfurniture scattered about thewide floor. She hated thisplace, with its soft beds andits soft people. She infinitelypreferred the dust and thirst

of the Badlands of Kanta.Life therewashard, andhot,andbrief.

Butatleastitwashonest.This Union, and this city

ofAduainparticular,andthisfortress of the Agriontespecially,wereallpackedtobursting with lies. She feltthemonherskin,likeanoilystain she could not rub off.And Bayaz was sunk in the

very midst of it. He hadtrickedherintofollowinghimacross theworld for nothing.They had found no ancientweapon to use against theGurkish.Nowhesmiled,andlaughed, and whisperedsecrets with old men. Menwho came in sweating fromthe heat outside, and leftsweatingevenmore.

She would never have

admitted it to anyone else.Shedespisedhavingtoadmitit to herself. She missedNinefingers. Though she hadneverbeenable toshowit, ithad been a reassurance,having someone she couldhalfwaytrust.

Nowshehadtolookoverherownshoulder.

All she had for companywas the apprentice, and he

was worse than nothing. Hesat and watched her insilence, his book ignored onthe table beside him.Watching and smilingwithout joy, as though heknew something she shouldhave guessed. As though hethought her a fool for notseeingit.Thatonlymadeherangrier than ever. So sheprowled round the room,

frowning at everything, herfists clenched and her jawlockedlight.

'You should go back totheSouth,Ferro.'

Shestoppedinhertracks,andscowledatQuai.Hewasright, of course. Nothingwouldhavepleasedhermorethan to leave these Godlesspinks behind forever andfight the Gurkish with

weapons she understood.Tear vengeance from themwith her teeth, if she had to.He was right, but thatchanged nothing. Ferro hadnever been much for takingadvice. 'What do you knowabout what I should do,scrawnypinkfool?'

'Morethanyouthink.'Hedid not take his slow eyesawayfromherforamoment.

'We aremuch alike, you andI.Youmaynotseeit,andyetweare.Somuchincommon.'Ferro frowned. She did notknow what the sickly idiotmeantbythat,butshedidnotlike the sound of it. 'Bayazwill bring you nothing youneed.Hecannotbe trusted. Ifound out too late, but youstill have time. You shouldfindanothermaster.'

'I have no master,' shesnappedathim.'Iamfree.'

OnecornerofQuai'spalelips twitched up. 'Neither ofus will ever be free. Go.There is nothing for youhere.'

'Whydoyoustay,then?''Forvengeance.'Ferro frowned deeper.

'Vengeanceforwhat?'

The apprentice leanedforward,hisbrighteyesfixedon hers. The door creakedopen and he snapped hismouth shut, sat back andlooked out of the window.Justas ifhehadnevermeanttospeak.

Damnapprenticewithhisdamn riddles. Ferro turnedherscowltowardsthedoor.

Bayaz came slowly

through into the room, ateacupheldcarefully level inonehand.HedidnotsomuchaslookinFerro'sdirectionashe swept past and out theopen door onto the balcony.Damn Magus. She stalkedafter, narrowing her eyes attheglare.Theywerehighup,and the Agriont was spreadout before them, as it hadbeen when she and

Ninefingers climbed over therooftops,longago.Groupsofidle pinks lazed on theshining grass below, just asthey had done before Ferroleft for theOldEmpire.Andyet not everything was thesame.

Everywhere in the city,now,therewasakindoffear.Shecouldsee it ineachsoft,paleface.Intheireveryword

and gesture. A breathlessexpectation, like the airbeforethestormbreaks.Likea field of dry grass, ready toburst into flame at theslightest spark. She did notknowwhattheywerewaitingfor,andshedidnotcare.

Butshehadheardalotoftalkaboutvotes.

The First of the Magiwatched her as she stepped

through the door, the brightsunshiningonthesideofhisbaldhead.'Tea,Ferro?'

Ferro hated tea, andBayazknewit.TeawaswhattheGurkishdrankwhen theyhad treachery in mind. Sheremembered the soldiersdrinking it while shestruggled in the dust. Sheremembered the slaversdrinking it while they talked

prices. She rememberedUthman drinking it while hechuckled at her rage and herhelplessness. Now Bayazdrank it, little cup helddaintily between his thickthumband forefinger, andhesmiled.

Ferro ground her teeth. 'Iam done here, pink. Youpromised me vengeance andhave givenmenothing. I am

goingbacktotheSouth.''Indeed? We would be

sorry to lose you. ButGurkhulandtheUnionareatwar. There are no shipssailing to Kanta at present.There may not be for sometimetocome.'

'Then how will I getthere?'

'You have made it

abundantlyclear thatyouarenotmy responsibility. I haveputaroofoveryourheadandyou show scant gratitude. Ifyou wish to leave, you canmake your ownarrangements. My brotherYulwei should return to usshortly. Perhaps he will beprepared to take you underhiswing.'

'Notgoodenough.'Bayaz

glared at her. A fearsomelook, perhaps, but Ferro wasnot Longfoot, or Luthar, orQuai.Shehadnomaster,andwould never have another.'Notgoodenough,Isaid!'

'Why is it that you insiston testing the limits of mypatience?It isnotwithoutanend,youknow.'

'Neitherismine.'

Bayaz snorted. 'Yoursscarcely even has abeginning, as MasterNinefingers could no doubttestify. I do declare, Ferro,you have all the charm of agoat, and a mean-temperedgoatatthat.'Hestuckhislipsout, tipped up his cup andsucked delicately from therim. Only with a mightyeffort was Ferro able to stop

herselffromslappingitoutofhishand,andbuttingthebaldbastard in the face into thebargain. 'But if fighting theGurkishisstillwhatyouhaveinmind—'

'Always.''ThenIamsurethatIcan

still find a use for yourtalents. Something that doesnot require a sense ofhumour. My purposes with

regard to the Gurkish areunchanged.Thestrugglemustcontinue, albeit with otherweapons.' His eyes slidsideways, towards the greattowerthatloomedupoverthefortress.

Ferro knew little aboutbeautyandcaredstillless,butthat building was a beautifulthing tohermind.Therewasnosoftness,no indulgence in

thatmountainofnakedstone.Therewasabrutalhonestyinits shape. A mercilessprecision in its sharp, blackangles. Something about itfascinatedher.

'What is that place?' sheasked.

Bayaz narrowed his eyesat her. 'The House of theMaker.'

'Whatisinside?''Noneofyourbusiness.'Ferro almost spat with

annoyance. 'You lived there.You served Kanedias. Youhelped the Maker with hisworks. You told us all this,outon theplains.So tellme,whatisinside?'

'You have a sharpmemory, Ferro, but you

forget one thing.We did notfind the Seed. I do not needyou. I do not need, inparticular, to answer yourendlessquestionsany longer.Imagine my dismay.' Hesucked primly at his teaagain, raising his brows andpeering out at the lazy pinksinthepark.

Ferro forceda smileontoher own face.Or as close as

shecouldget toa smile.Shebared her teeth, at least. Sheremembered well enoughwhat the bitter old womanCawneil had said, and howmuch it had annoyed him.Shewoulddo the same. 'TheMaker.You tried to steal hissecrets.You tried to stealhisdaughter. Tolomei was hername. Her father threw herfrom the roof. In return for

her betrayal, in opening hisgatestoyou.AmIwrong?'

Bayaz angrily flicked thelast drops from his cup overthe balcony. Ferro watchedthemglitterinthebrightsun,tumbling downwards. 'Yes,Ferro, the Maker threw hisdaughter from the roof. Itwould seem thatwearebothunluckyinlove,eh?Badluckfor us. Worse luck for our

lovers. Who would havedreamedwehavesomuchincommon?' Ferro wonderedabout shoving the pinkbastard off the balcony afterhistea.Buthestillowedher,and she meant to collect. Sosheonlyscowled,andduckedbackthroughthedoorway.

There was a new arrivalin the room. A man withcurly hair and a wide smile.

Hehadatallstaffinhishand,a case of weathered leatheroveroneshoulder.Therewassomething strange about hiseyes— one light, one dark.There was something abouthis watchful gaze that madeFerro suspicious. Even morethanusual.

'Ah, the famous FerroMaljinn. Forgive mycuriosity, but it is not every

day that one encounters aperson of your… remarkableancestry.'

Ferro did not like that heknew her name, or herancestry, or anything abouther.'Whoareyou?'

'Wherearemymanners?IamYoruSulfur, of the orderof Magi,' and he offered hishand. She did not take it buthe only smiled. 'Not one of

theoriginaltwelve,ofcourse,notI.Merelyanafterthought.A late addition. I was onceapprenticetogreatBayaz.'

Ferrosnorted.Thathardlyqualified him for trust in herestimation.'Whathappened?'

'Igraduated.'Bayaz tossed his cup

down rattling on a table bythe window. 'Yoru,' he said,

and the newcomer humblybowed his head. 'My thanksfor your work thus far.Precise and to the point, asalways.'

Sulfur's smile grewbroader. 'A small cog in alargemachine,MasterBayaz,butItrytobeasturdyone.'

'You have yet to let medown. I do not forget that.How is your next little game

progressing?''Ready to begin, at your

command.''Let us begin now. There

is nothing to be gained bydelay.'

'I shall make thepreparations. I have alsobrought this, as you asked.'Heswungthebagdownfromhis shoulder and gingerly

reached inside. He slowlydrew out a book. Large andblack, its heavy covershacked, and scarred, andcharred by fire. 'Glustrod'sbook,'hemurmuredsoftly,asthough afraid to say thewords.

Bayaz frowned. 'Keep it,for now. There was anunexpectedcomplication.'

'A complication?' Sulfur

slid the book back into itscasewithsomerelief.

'What we sought… wasnotthere.'

'Then—''As regards our other

plans,nothingischanged.''Of course.' Sulfur bowed

his head again. 'Lord Isherwillalreadybeonhisway.'

'Very well.' Bayaz

glanced over at Ferro, asthough he had only justremembered that she wasthere. 'For the time being,perhaps you would be goodenoughtogiveustheroom?Ihave a visitor that I mustattendto.'

She was happy to leave,butshetookhertimemoving,ifonlybecauseBayazwantedher gone quickly. She

unfolded her arms, stood onthe spot and stretched. Shestrolled to the door by aroundabout route, letting herfeet scuff against the boardsand fill the room with theiruglyscraping.Shestoppedontheway to gaze at a picture,topokeatachair,toflickatashiny pot, none of whichinterested her at all. All thewhile Quai watched, and

Bayaz frowned, and Sulfurgrinned his knowing littlegrin. She stopped in thedoorway.

'Now?''Yes, now,' snapped

Bayaz.She looked round the

roomonemoretime.'FuckingMagi,' she snorted, and slidthroughthedoor.

She almostwalked into atall old pink in the roombeyond. He wore a heavyrobe, even in the heat, andhad a sparkling chain aroundhis shoulders. A big manloomedbehindhim,grimandwatchful. A guard. Ferro didnot like the old pink's look.He stared down his nose ather, chin tilted up, as thoughshewereadog.

As though she were aslave.

'Ssssss.' Shehissed in hisface as she shouldered pasthim. He gave an outragedsnort and his guard gaveFerro a hard look. Sheignored it. Hard looks meannothing. If he wanted herknee in his face he could tryandtouchher.Buthedidnot.The two of them went in

throughthedoor.'Ah, Lord Isher!' she

heard Bayaz saying, justbeforeitshut. 'Iamdelightedthatyoucouldvisitusatshortnotice.'

'I came at once. Mygrandfather always said that—'

'Your grandfather was awiseman,andagoodfriend.

I would like to discuss withyou,ifImay,thesituationinthe Open Council. Will youtaketea…?'

Honesty

«^»

Jezal lay on his back, hishands behind his head, thesheets around his waist. HewatchedArdeelookingoutof

the window, her elbows onthesill,herchinonherhands.He watched Ardee, and hethanked the fates that somelong-forgotten designer ofmilitary apparel had seen fitto provide the officers of theKing's Own with a high-waisted jacket. He thankedthemwithadeepandearnestgratitude, because his jacketwasallshewaswearing.

It was amazing howthings had changed betweenthem, since that bitter,bewildering reunion. For aweek they had not spent anight apart, and for a weekthe smile had barely left hisface. Occasionally thememorywouldwallowup,ofcourse,unbiddenandhorriblysurprising, like a bloatedcorpsebobbingtothesurface

of thepondwhileoneenjoysa picnic on the shore, ofArdeebitingandhittinghim,crying and screaming in hisface. But when it did so hewould fix his grin, and seeher smile at him, and soonenough he would be able toshove those unpleasantthoughtsbackdownagain,atleastfornow.Thenhewouldcongratulatehimselfonbeing

a big enough man to do it,andongivingher thebenefitofthedoubt.

'Ardee,' he wheedled ather.

'Mmm?''Comebacktobed.''Why?''Because I love you.'

Strange, how the more hesaidit,theeasieritbecame.

Shegaveaboredsigh.'Soyoukeepsaying.'

'It'strue.'She turned round, hands

onthesillbehind,herbodyadarkoutlineagainstthebrightwindow. 'Andwhatdoes thatmean, exactly? That you'vebeen fucking me for a weekand you haven't had enoughyet?'

'I don't think I'll ever getenough.'

'Well,' and she pushedherself away from thewindow and padded acrossthe boards. 'I don't supposethere's any harm in findingout, is there?Nomoreharm,anyway.' She stopped at thefootof thebed. 'Justpromisemeonething.'

Jezal swallowed, worried

at what she might ask him,worriedatwhathemightsayin reply. 'Anything,' hemurmured,forcinghimselftosmile.

'Don'tletmedown.'His smile grew easier.

That was not so hard to sayyes to. He was a changedman, after all. 'Of course, Ipromise.'

'Good.'Shecreptupontothe bed, on her hands andknees, eyes fixed on his facewhilehewriggledhis toes inanticipation under the sheet.She knelt up, one leg oneithersideofhim,andjerkedthe jacket smooth across herchest. 'Wellthen,Captain,doIpassmuster?'

'I would say…' and hegrabbedthefrontofthejacket

andpulledherdownontopofhim, slippedhis hands insideit, 'that you are without adoubt…'andheslidhishandunder her breast and rubbedathernipplewithhis thumb,'the finest-looking soldier inmycompany.'

She pressed her groinagainsthis through the sheet,andworkedherhipsbackandforward. 'Ah, the Captain is

alreadyatattention…''Foryou?Constantly…'Her mouth licked and

sucked at his, smearing spitonhisface,andhepushedhishand between her legs andshe rubbed herself against itforawhile,hisstickyfingerssquelching in and out of her.Shegruntedandsighedinherthroat, and he did the same.She reached down and

dragged the sheet out of theway. He took hold of hisprick and she wriggled herhipsuntiltheyfoundtherightspot and worked her waydown onto him, her hairtickling at his face, herrasping breath tickling at hisear.

There were two heavyknocks at the door, and theyboth froze. Another two

knocks. Ardee put her headup, pushing her hair out ofher flushedface. 'What is it?'she called, voice thick andthroaty.

'There's someone for theCaptain.' The maid. 'Is he…ishestillhere?'

Ardee's eyes rolled downto Jezal's. 'I daresay I couldgetamessagetohim!'Hebiton his lip to stifle a laugh,

reachedupandpinchedathernipple and she slapped hishandaway.'Whoisit?'

'A Knight Herald!' Jezalfelt his smile fading. Thosebastards never seemed tobringgoodnews,andalwaysat the worst possible times.'LordMarshalVaruzneedstospeaktotheCaptainurgently.They'reallovertownlookingfor him.' Jezal cursed under

hisbreath. It seemed that thearmy had finally realised hewasback.

'Tell him thatwhen I seethe Captain I will let himknow!' shouted Ardee, andthe sound of footstepsretreated down the corridoroutside.

'Fuck!' Jezal hissed assoonashewassurethemaidwas gone, not that she could

havebeen in toomuchdoubtaboutwhathadbeengoingonfor the past few days andnights.'I'llhavetogo.'

'Now?''Now, curse them. If I

don'tthey'lljustkeeplooking,and the sooner I go, thesoonerIcangetback.'

She sighed and rolledover onto her back while he

slithered off the bed andstarted hunting round theroomforhisscatteredclothes.His shirt had a wine staindown the front, his trouserswere creased and rumpled,but they would have to do.Cuttingtheperfectfigurewasnolongerhisonegoalinlife.He sat down on the bed topull his boots on and he felther kneel behind him, her

handsslidingacrosshischest,herlipsbrushingathisearasshe whispered to him. 'Soyou'llbeleavingmeallaloneagain,will you?Heading offto Angland, to slaughterNorthmenwithmybrother?'

Jezal leaned down withsome difficulty and heavedone boot on. 'Perhaps.Perhaps not.' The idea of thesoldiering life no longer

inspired him. He had seenenoughofviolence,closeup,to know it was extremelyfrighteningandhurt likehell.Glory and fame seemed likemeagre rewards for all therisks involved. 'I'm givingseriousthought totheideaofresigningmycommission.'

'You are? And doingwhat?'

'I'm not sure.' He turned

his head and raised aneyebrow at her. 'Maybe I'llfindagoodwomanandsettledown.'

'A goodwoman?Do youknowany?'

'I was hoping you mighthavesomesuggestions.'

She pressed her lipstogether. 'Letme think.Doesshehavetobebeautiful?'

'No, no, beautifulwomenare always so bloodydemanding. Plain asditchwater,please.'

'Clever?'Jezal snorted. 'Anything

but that. I am notorious formy empty-headedness. Aclever woman would onlymakeme look the dunce thewhole time.' He dragged theother boot on, peeled her

hands awayand stoodup. 'Awide-eyed and thoughtlesscalfwouldbeideal.Someonetoendlesslyagreewithme.'

Ardee clapped her hands.'Ohyes,Icanseeheronyounow, trailing from your armlikeanemptydress,akindofechoatahigherpitch.Noblebloodthough,Iimagine?'

'Of course, nothing butthebest.OnepointonwhichI

could never compromise.And fair hair, I have aweaknessforit.'

'Oh,Ientirelyagree.Darkhair is so commonplace, soverymuch the colourofdirt,and filth, and muck.' Sheshuddered. 'I feel sullied justthinkingofit.'

'Above all,' as he pushedhis sword through the clasponhis belt, 'a calmand even

temper. Ihavehadmyfillofsurprises.'

'Naturally.Lifeisdifficultenough without a womanmaking trouble. So terriblyundignified.' She raised hereyebrows. 'I will thinkthroughmyacquaintance.'

'Excellent. In themeantime, and although youwear it with far greater dashthanIevercould,Iwillneed

myjacket.''Oh,yes,sir.'Shepulledit

off and flung it at him, thenstretchedoutonthebed,starknaked, back arched, handsaboveherhead,wrigglingherhips slowly back and forth,oneknee in theair, theotherleg stretched out, big toepointing at him. 'You aren'tgoing to leave me alone fortoolong,though,areyou?'

He watched her for amoment. 'Don't you daremove a fucking inch,' hecroaked, then he pulled thejacket on, wedged his prickbetween his thighs andwaddled out the door, bentover. He hoped it would godown before he had hisbriefing with the LordMarshal, but he was notentirelysureitwould.

Once again, Jezal foundhimselfinoneofHighJusticeMarovia's cavernouschambers, standing all aloneontheemptyfloor,facingtheenormous, polished tablewhilethreeoldmenregardedhim grimly from the otherside.

Astheclerkshutthehighdoorswithanechoingboom,

he had a deeply worryingsenseofhavinglivedthroughthis very experience before.The day he had beensummoned from the boat forAngland, torn from hisfriends and his ambitions, tobesentonamadcap,doomedjourney into the middle ofnowhere. A journey that hadcost him some of his looksandnearlyhislife.Itwassafe

tosaythathedidnotentirelyrelish being back here, andhoped most fervently for abetteroutcome.

From that point of view,theabsenceoftheFirstoftheMagi was something of atonic, even if the panel wasotherwise far fromcomforting. Facing himwerethe hard old faces of LordMarshal Varuz, High Justice

Marovia, and LordChamberlainHoff.

Varuz was busy waxingon about Jezal's fineachievements in the OldEmpire. He had, evidently,heardaverydifferentversionof events from the one thatJezalhimselfremembered.

'…greatadventuresinthewest, as I understand it,bringinghonourtotheUnion

on foreign fields. I wasparticularly impressed by thestory of your charge acrossthe bridge at Darmium. Didthat really happen the way Ihavebeentold?'

'Across the bridge, sir,well, truthfully, er…' Heshould probably have askedthe old foolwhat the hell hewastalkingabout,buthewasfar too busy thinking of

Ardee, stretched out naked.Shit on his country. Duty bedamned. He could resign hiscommissionnowandbebackin her bed before the hourwasout.'Thethingis—'

'That was your favourite,was it?'askedHoff, loweringhis goblet. 'It was the oneabout theEmperor'sdaughterthat most caught my fancy.'AndhelookedatJezalwitha

twinkle in his eye thatimplied a story of a saucytone.

'Honestly, your Grace,I'venottheslightestideahowthat rumour began. Nothingofthekindoccurred,Iassureyou. The whole businessappears somehow to havebecome greatly exaggerated—'

'Well, one glorious

rumour is worth tendisappointing truths, wouldyounotagree?'

Jezal blinked. 'Well, er, Isuppose—'

'Inanycase,'cutinVaruz,'the Closed Council havereceived excellent reports ofyourconductwhileabroad.'

'Theyhave?''Many and various

reports,andallglowing.'Jezal could not help

grinning, though he had towonder from whom suchreportsmight have come.Hecould scarcely imagine FerroMaljinn gushing about hisfine qualities. 'Well, yourlordshipsareverykind,but Imust—'

'As a result of yourdedicationandcourageinthis

difficult and vital task, I amdelighted to announce thatyouhavebeenelevatedtotherank of Colonel, withimmediateeffect.'

Jezal's eyes opened upverywide.'Ihave?'

'You have indeed, myboy, and no one coulddeserveitmore.'

To rise two ranks in one

afternoon was anunprecedented honour,especially when he hadfought in no battle, carriedoutnorecentdeedsofvalour,and made no ultimatesacrifices. Unless youcounted leaving off themostrecent bedding of his bestfriend's sister halfway. Asacrifice, no doubt, butscarcely thekind thatusually

earnedtheKing'sfavour.'I, er, I…' He could not

escapeaglowofsatisfaction.A new uniform, and morebraid,andsoforth,andmorepeople to tell what to do.Gloryandfameweremeagrerewards, perhaps, but he hadtaken the risks already, andnowhadonlytosayyes.Hadhe not suffered? Had he notearnedit?

He did not have to thinkabout it for so very long.Hescarcelyhad to thinkabout itatall.Theideaofleavingthearmy and settling downreceded rapidly into the fardistance. 'Iwould be entirelyhonoured to accept thisexceptional…er…honour.'

'Then we are all equallydelighted,' said Hoff sourly.'Now to business. You are

aware, Colonel Luthar, thatthere has been some troublewiththepeasantsoflate?'

Surprisingly,nonewshadreached Ardee's bedroom.'Nothingserious,surely,yourGrace?'

'Notunlessyoucallafull-blownrevoltserious.'

'Revolt?'Jezalswallowed.'This man, the Tanner,'

spat the Lord Chamberlain.'He has been touring thecountryside for months,whipping up dissatisfaction,sowing the seeds ofdisobedience, inciting thepeasantry to crimes againsttheir masters, against theirlords,againsttheirking!'

'No one ever suspected itwouldreachthepointofopenrebellion.' Varuz worked his

mouthangrily.'Butfollowinga demonstration near Keln agroupofpeasantsencouragedby this Tanner armedthemselves and refused todisband. Theywon a victoryoverthelocallandowner,andthe insurrection spread. Nowwe hear they crushed asignificant force under LordFinster yesterday, burned hismanor house and hung three

taxcollectors.Theyareintheprocess of ravaging thecountrysideinthedirectionofAdua.'

'Ravaging?' murmuredJezal, glancing at the door.Ravaging really was a veryuglyword.

'It is a most regrettablebusiness,'bemoanedMarovia.'Halfofthemarehonestmen,faithful to their king, pushed

to this through the greed oftheirlandlords.'

Varuzsneeredhisdisgust.'There can be no excuse fortreason! The other half arethieves,andblackguards,andmalcontents. They should bewhippedtothegallows!'

'The Closed Council hasmade its decision,' cut inHoff. 'This Tanner hasdeclared his intention to

present a list of demands totheKing. To the King! Newfreedoms. New rights. Everyman the equal of his brotherand other such dangerousnonsense. Soon it willbecome known that they areontheirwayandtherewillbepanic.Riots insupportof thepeasants, and riots againstthem.Thingsarebalancedona knife edge already. Two

warsinprogressandthekingin fading health, with noheir?'Hoffbashedatthetablewith his fist, making Jezaljump. 'They must not beallowedtoreachthecity.'

Marshal Varuz claspedhis hands before him. 'Thetwo regiments of the King'sOwn that have remained inMidderlandwillbesentouttocounter this threat. A list of

concessions,' and he scowledashesaidtheword,'hasbeenprepared. If thepeasantswillacceptnegotiation,andreturntotheirhomes,theirlivescanbespared. If thisTannerwillnot see reason, then his so-called army must bedestroyed. Scattered. Brokenup.'

'Killed,' said Hoff,rubbingatastainonthetable

with his heavy thumb. 'Andthe ringleaders delivered tohisMajesty'sInquisition.'

'Regrettable,' murmuredJezal, without thinking,feeling a cold shiver at thevery mention of thatinstitution.

'Necessary,'saidMarovia,sadlyshakinghishead.

'But hardly

straightforward.' Varuzfrowned at Jezal across thetable.'Ineachvillage,ineachtown,ineveryfieldandfarmthey have passed throughthey have picked up morerecruits. The country is alivewith malcontents. Ill-disciplined,ofcourse,andill-equipped, but at our lastestimatetheynumberedsomefortythousand.'

'Forty… thousand?' Jezalshifted his weight nervously.He had supposed they wereperhaps discussing a fewhundred, and those withoutproper footwear. There wasno danger here, of course,safe behind the walls of theAgriont,thewallsofthecity.But forty thousand was anawful lot of very angrymen.Eveniftheywerepeasants.

'The King's Own aremaking their preparations:one regiment of horse andone of foot. All that ismissingnowisacommanderfortheexpedition.'

'Huh,' grunted Jezal. Hedid not begrudge thatunfortunatemanhisposition,commanding a forceoutnumbered five to oneagainst a bunch of savages

buoyed up by righteousnessand petty victories, drunk onhatred of noblemen andmonarchy, thirsty for bloodandloot…

Jezal's eyes went widerstill.'Me?'

'You.'Hefumbledforthewords.

'I do not wish to seem…ungrateful, you understand,

but, surely, I mean to say,there must be men bettersuited to the task. LordMarshal, you yourself have—'

'This is a complicatedtime.' Hoff glared sternly atJezal frombeneathhisbushybrows. 'A very complicatedtime. We need someonewithout… affiliations. Weneed someone with a clean

slate. You fit the billadmirably.'

'But… negotiating withpeasants, your Grace, yourWorship, Lord Marshal, Ihavenounderstandingof theissues! I have nounderstandingoflaw!'

'Wearenotblind toyourdeficiencies,' saidHoff. 'Thatis why there will be arepresentative from the

Closed Council with you.Someone who possessesunchallenged expertise in allthoseareas.'

A heavy hand slappedsuddenly down on Jezal'sshoulder. 'I toldyou itwouldbe sooner rather than later,my boy!' Jezal slowly turnedhishead, a feelingof terribledismay boiling up from hisstomach, and there was the

First of the Magi, grinninginto his face from a distanceof nomore than a foot, verymuchpresentafterall. Itwasno surprise, really, that thebald old meddler wasinvolved in this. Strange andpainful events seemed tofollow in hiswake like straydogs barking behind thebutcher'swagon.

'Thepeasants'army,ifwe

can call it such, is campedwithin four days' slovenlymarch of the city, spread outacross the country, seekingfor forage.' Varuz cranedforward, poking at the tablewithafinger.

'You will proceedimmediately to interceptthem.Ourhopeshangonthis,Colonel Luthar. Do youunderstandyourorders?'

'Yes, sir,' he whispered,trying and utterly failing tosoundenthusiastic.

'The two of us, backtogether?' Bayaz chuckled.'They'd better run, eh, myboy?'

'Of course,' murmuredJezal,miserably.He had hadhisownchancetoescape,hischancetostartanewlife,andhe had given it up in return

foranextrastarortwoonhisjacket. Too late he realisedhisawfulblunder.Bayaz'griptightened round his shoulder,drew him to a fatherlydistance,anddidnotfeellikereleasing him. There reallywasnowayout.

Jezal steppedoutof thedoorto his quarters in a greathurry, cursing as he dragged

his box behind him. It reallywas an awful imposition thathe had been obliged to carryhis own luggage, but timewas extremely pressing if hewas to save the Union fromthe madness of its ownpeople.Hehadgivenonlythebriefest consideration to theideaofsprintingforthedocksand taking passage on thefirst ship to distant Suljuk,

before angrily dismissing it.He had taken the promotionwith his eyes open, and nowhesupposedhehadnochoicebuttoseeitthrough.Bettertodo it, than to live with thefear of it, and so forth. Hetwisted his key in the lock,turned around, and recoiledwith a girlish gasp of shock.There was someone in theshadows opposite his door,

andthefeelingofhorroronlyworsened when he realisedwhoitwas.

The cripple Glokta stoodagainst the wall, leaningheavily on his cane andgrinning his repulsive,toothless grin. 'A word,ColonelLuthar.'

'Ifyouarereferringtothisbusinesswith thepeasants, itis well in hand.' Jezal was

unable to keep the sneer ofdisgust entirely off his face.'You need not troubleyourselfonthat—'

'I amnot referring to thatbusiness.'

'Thenwhat?''ArdeeWest.'The corridor seemed

suddenly very empty, veryquiet. The soldiers, the

officers, the servants, allawayinAngland.Therewerejust the two of them, for allJezal knew, in the entirebarracks. 'I fail to see howthatisanyconcernof—'

'Her brother, our mutualfriend Collem West, you doremember him? Worried-looking fellow, losing hishair. Bit of a temper.' Jezalfelt a guilty flush across his

face.Herememberedthemanwell enough, of course, andhis temper in particular. 'Hecame to me shortly beforedeparting for the war inAngland. He asked me tolook to his sister's welfarewhile he was away, riskinghis life. I promised todo so.'Glokta shuffled slightlycloser and Jezal's flesh crept.'A responsibility which, I

assureyou,Itakeasseriouslyas any task the Arch Lectormightchoosetogiveme.'

'Isee,'croakedJezal.Thatcertainly explained thecripple's presence at herhouse the other day, whichhad, until then, been causinghim some confusion. He feltno easier in his mind,however. Considerably less,infact.

'IhardlythinkthatCollemWest would be best pleasedwith what has beentranspiring these last fewdays,doyou?'

Jezalshiftedguiltily fromonefoottotheother. 'IadmitthatIhavevisitedher—'

'Your visits,' whisperedthe cripple, 'are not good forthat girl's reputation.We areleft with three options.

Firstly, and this is mypersonal favourite, you walkaway, and you pretend younevermether,andyouneverseeheragain.'

'Unacceptable,' Jezalfound himself saying, hisvoicesurprisinglybrash.

'Secondly, then, youmarry the lady, and all'sforgotten.'

A course that Jezal wasconsidering, but he wasdamnedifhe'dbebulliedintoitbythistwistedremnantofaman.'Andthird?'heenquired,with what he felt was fittingcontempt.

'Third?' A particularlydisgusting flurry of twitchescrawled up the side ofGlokta's wasted face. 'I don'tthink you want to know too

muchaboutnumberthree.Letusonlysaythatitwillincludealongnightofpassionwithafurnace and a set of razors,and an even longer morninginvolving a sack, an anvil,and the bottom of the canal.You might find that one ofthe other two options suitsyoubetter.'

Before he knew what hewas doing Jezal had taken a

step forward, forcing Gloktatorockback,wincing,againstthe wall. 'I do not have toexplain myself to you! Myvisitsarebetweenmeandtheladyinquestion,butforyourinformation, I long agoresolvedtomarryher,andammerely waiting for the rightmoment!'Jezalstoodthereinthe darkness, hardly able tobelieve what he had heard

himselfsay.Damnhismouth,it still landed him in allmanneroftrouble.

Glokta's narrow left eyeblinked.'Ah,luckyher.'

Jezal found himselfmovingforwardagain,almostbuttingthecrippleinthefaceand crushing him helplessagainstthewall.'That'sright!Soyoucanshoveyourthreatsupyourcrippledarse!'

Evensquashedagainstthewall, Glokta's surprise onlylasted an instant. Then heleered his toothless grin, hiseyelid fluttering and a longtear running down his gauntcheek. 'Why,ColonelLuthar,it is difficult for me toconcentratewith you so veryclose.'HestrokedthefrontofJezal'suniformwith thebackofhishand. 'Especiallygiven

your unexpected interest inmy arse.' Jezal jerked back,mouth sour with disgust. 'Itseems that Bayaz succeededwhere Varuz failed, eh? Hetaught you where your spineis! My congratulations onyour forthcoming wedding.ButIthinkI'llkeepmyrazorshandy, just in case you don'tfollow through. I'm so gladwe had this chance to talk.'

And Glokta limped offtowards the stairs, his canetappingontheboards,hisleftbootscrapingalongbehind.

'As am I!' shouted Jezalafter him. But nothing couldhave been further from thetruth.

Ghosts

«^»

Uffrith didn't lookmuch likeitused to.Ofcourse, the lasttime Logen had seen theplace had been years ago, at

night,afterthesiege.Crowdsof Bethod's Carls wanderingthe streets—shouting, andsinging, and drinking.Looking for folk to rob andrape, setting fire to anythingthat would hold a flame.Logen remembered lying inthat room after he'd beatenThreetrees, crying andgurgling at the pain allthroughhim.Heremembered

scowlingoutthewindowandseeing the glow from theflames, listening to thescreams over the town,wishing he was out theremaking mischief andwondering if he'd ever standupagain.

Itwasdifferentnow,withthe Union in charge, but itwasn't so very much moreorganised. The grey harbour

waschokedwithshipstoobigfor the wharves. Soldiersswarmed through the narrowstreets, dropping gear allover. Carts and mules andhorses, all loaded down andpiledup,triedtoshoveawaythrough the press. Woundedlimped on crutches downtowards the docks, or werecarried on stretchers throughthe spotting drizzle, bloody

bandages staredatwide-eyedby the fresh-faced ladsgoingtheotherway.Hereandthere,looking greatly puzzled atthis mighty flood of strangepeople sweeping throughtheir town, some Northernerwas standing in a doorway.Womenmostly,andchildren,andoldmen.

Logenwalked fastup thesloping streets, pushing

through the crowds with hishead down and his hood up.He kept his fists bunched athissides,sonoonewouldseethe stump of his missingfinger.HekepttheswordthatBayaz had given himwrapped up in a blanket onhis back, under his pack,where it wouldn't makeanyone nervous. All thesame, his shoulders prickled

everystepoftheway.Hewaswaiting to hear someoneshout, 'It's the Bloody-Nine!'He was waiting for folk tostart running, screaming,pelting him with rubbish,facesallstampedwithhorror.

Butnoonedid.Onemorefigure that didn't belong wasnothing to look at in all thatdamp chaos, and if anyonemight have known him here,

theyweren't looking forhim.Most likely they'd all heardhewentback to themud, faraway, and were good andglad about it too. Still, therewas no point staying longerthan he had to.He strode uptoaUnionofficerwholookedasifhemightbeinchargeofsomething, pushed his hoodback and tried to put a smileonhisface.

Hegotascornfullookforhis trouble. 'We've no workfor you, if that's what you'relookingfor.'

'You don't have my kindofwork.' Logen held out theletter that Bayaz had givenhim.

The man unfolded it andlooked it over. He frownedand read it again. Then helooked doubtfully up at

Logen,mouthworking. 'Wellthen. I see.' He pointedtowards a crowd of youngmen, standing nervous anduncertaina fewstridesaway,huddledmiserablytogetherastherainstartedtothickenup.'There's a convoy ofreinforcementsleavingforthefront this afternoon.You cantravelwithus.'

'Fair enough.'Theydidn't

look like they'd be muchreinforcement, those scared-seeming lads, but that didn'tmattertohim.Hedidn'tmuchcarewhohetravelledwith,aslong as they were pointed atBethod.

The trees clattered by oneither side of the road—dimgreen and black, full ofshadows. Full of surprises,

maybe.Itwasatoughwaytotravel. Tough on the handsfrom clinging to the rail alltheway,even tougheron thearse from bouncing andjolting on that hard seat.Butthey were getting there,gradually, and Logenreckoned that was the mainthing.

There were more cartsbehind, spread out in a slow

line along the road, loadeddown with men, food,clothes,weapons, and all thestuffyouneedtomakeawar.Each one had a lamp lit,hangingupnear the front, sothere was a trail of bobbinglights in the dull dusk, downinto thevalleyandup thefarslope,markingoutthepathofthe road they'd followedthroughthewoods.

Logen turned and lookedat the Union boys, gatheredup in a clump near the frontof the cart.Nineof them, alljolting and swaying abouttogether with the jumping ofthe axles, and all keeping aswell clear of him as theycould.

'You seen scars like thaton a man before?' onemuttered, not guessing he

couldspeaktheirtongue.'Whoisheanyway?''Dunno. A Northman, I

guess.''I can see he's a

Northman, idiot. I meanwhat'shedoingherewithus?'

'Maybehe'sascout.''Big bastard for a scout,

ain'the?'Logen grinned to himself

as he watched the trees rollpast. He felt the cool breezeonhisface,smelledthemist,the earth, the cold, wet, air.Heneverwouldhavethoughthe'd be happy to be back intheNorth,buthewas. Itwasgood, after all that time astranger, to be in a placewhereheknewtherules.

They camped out on theroad, the ten of them. One

groupoutofmany,strungoutthrough thewoods, each oneclustered close to their cart.Nineladsononesideofabigfire, a pot of stew bubblingover the top of it and givingoff a fine-smelling steam.Logen watched them stirringit,talkingtoeachotherabouthome,andwhatwascoming,and how long they'd be outthere.

Afterawhileoneofthemstartedspooning thefoodoutintobowlsandhanding themround. He looked over atLogen, once he was donewith the rest, then served uponemore.Heedgedoverlikehe was coming at a wolfscage.

'Er…' He held the bowloutatarm'slength.'Stew?'Heopened his mouth up wide

and pointed into it with hisfreehand.

'Thanks, friend,' saidLogen as he took the bowl,'butIknowwheretoputit.'

Theladsallstaredathim,a row of worried-lookingfaces, litupflickeringyellowon the far side of the fire,more suspicious than ever athim speaking their language.'Youtalkcommon?Youkept

thatquiet,didn'tyou?''Best to seem less than

youare,inmyexperience.''Ifyousayso,'saidthelad

who'd given him the bowl.'What'syourname,then?'

Logen wondered for amomentifheshouldmakeupalie.Somenothingnamethatno one could have heard of.Buthewaswhohewas, and

sooner or later someonewould know him. That, andhe'd never been much atlying. 'Logen Ninefingers,theycallme.'

The lads looked blank.They'd never heard of him,andwhywouldtheyhave?Abunch of farmers' sons fromfaraway,inthesunnyUnion.They looked like they barelyknewtheirownnames.

'What are you here for?'oneofthemaskedhim.

'Sameasyou. I'mhere tokill.' The boys looked a bitnervy at that. 'Not you, don'tworry.I'vegotsomescorestosettle.' He nodded off up theroad.'WithBethod.'

The ladsexchangedsomeglances, then one of themshrugged. 'Well. Long asyou're on our side, I guess.'

He got up and dragged abottle out of his pack. 'Youwantadrink?'

'Well, now.' Logengrinnedandheldouthiscup.'I'veneveryetsaidnotothat.'He knocked it down in one,smacked his lips as he felt itwarming his gullet. The ladpouredhimanother. 'Thanks.Best not give me too much,though.'

'Why?' he asked. 'Willyoukillusthen?'

'Killyou?Ifyou'relucky.''Andifwe'renot?'Logen grinned over his

mug.'I'llsing.'Theladcrackedasmileat

that, and one of his matesstarted laughing. Nextmomentanarrowhissed intohissideandhecoughedblood

down his shirt, the bottledropping on the grass, winegurgling out in the dark.Another boy had a shaftsticking in his thigh. He satthere,frozen,staringdownatit. 'Where did that…' Theneveryone was shouting,fumbling for weapons orthrowing themselves flat ontheir faces. A couple morearrows whizzed over, one

clattering into the fire andsending up a shower ofsparks.

Logen threw his stewaway, snatched up his swordand started running. Heblundered into one of theboysonthewayandknockedhim on his face, slipped andslid, righted himself and ranfulltiltforthetreeswherethearrow came from. Itwas run

right at them, or run away,and he made the choicewithout thinking. Sometimesit doesn't matter too muchwhat choice you make, aslongasyoumakeitquickandstick to it.Logen sawoneofthe archers as he rushed upclose,aflashofhispaleskininthedarknessashereachedfor another arrow. He pulledthe Maker's sword from its

tattered sheath and let go afightingroar.

Thebowmancould'vegothisarrowawaybeforeLogenwas on him,most likely, butit would've been a closething,andintheendhedidn'thave thebones tostand therewaiting. Not many men canweigh their choices properlywhile death comes racing upat them.Hedroppedthebow

toolateandturnedtorun,andLogenhackedhiminthebackbefore he got more than astride or two, knocked himscreamingintothebushes.Hedragged himself round faceup, all tangled in the brush,screechingandfumblingforaknife.Logen lifted the swordto finish the job. Then bloodsprayed out of the archer'smouth and he trembled, fell

backandwasquiet.'Still alive,' Logen

mouthedtohimself,squattingdown low beside the corpse,straining into thedarkness. Itwould probably have beenbetterforallconcernedifhe'drun theotherway,but itwasa bit late for that. Probablyhavebeenbetterifhe'dstayedinAdua,but itwasabit lateforthattoo.

'BloodyNorth,' he cursedin a whisper. If he let thesebastardsgo they'dbemakingmischief all the way to thefrontandLogenwouldn'tgetawinkofsleepforworrying,asidefromthegoodchanceofan arrow in his face. Betterodds coming for them, thanwaiting for them to come tohim. A lesson he'd learnedfromhardexperience.

He could hear the rest ofthe ambush crashing awaythrough the brush and he setout after them, fist clenchedtight round the grip of hissword. He felt his waybetween the trunks, keepinghis distance. The light of thefire and the noise of theUnion boys shoutingdwindledbehindhimuntilhewas deep in the woods,

smelling of pines and wetearth,onlythesoundofmen'shurrying feet to guide him.He made himself part of theforest, theway he had in theolddays. Itwasn't sohard todo. The knack came rightback as though he'd beencreeping in the trees everynight for years. Voicesechoedthroughthenight,andLogen pressed himself still

and silent up behind a pine-trunk,listening.

'Where'sDirty-Nose?'Therewasapause.'Dead,

Ireckon.''Dead?How?''They had someone with

'em,Crow.Somebigfucker.'Crow.Logenknewthename.Knewthevoicetoo,nowthathe heard it. A Named Man

who'd fought for Littlebone.You couldn't have calledthemfriends,himandLogen,but they'd known each other.They'dbeenclosetogetherinthe line at Carleon, fightingside by side. And now heretheywereagainwithnomorethan a few strides betweenthem, more than willing tokill each other. Strange, theturns fate can take. Fighting

with a man and fightingagainst him are only awhisker apart. Far closertogether than not fighting atall.

'Northman,washe?'cameCrow'svoice.

'Might've been. Whoeverit was he knew his business.Came up real quick. I didn'thavetimetogetashaftaway.'

'Bastard! We ain't lettingthatpass.We'llcampouthereand follow 'em tomorrow.Might be we'll get him then,thisbigone.'

'Ohaye,we'llfuckinggethim. Don't you worry aboutthatnone.I'llcuthisneckforhim,thebastard.'

'Good for you. 'Til thenyoucankeepaneyeopenforhimwhiletherestofuscatch

some sleep. Might be theanger'll keep you awake thistime,eh?'

'Aye,chief.Righty'are.'Logen sat and watched,

catchingglimpsesthroughthetrees as four of them spreadout their blankets and rolleduptosleep.Thefifthtookhisplace,backtotheothers,andlooked out the way they'dcome, sitting guard. Logen

waited, and he heard onebegin to snore. Some rainstarted up, and it tapped andtrickled on the branches ofthe pines. After a while itspattered into his hair, intohisclothes,randownhisfaceandfelltothewetearth,drip,drip,drip.Logensat,stillandsilentasastone.

It can be a fearsomeweapon, patience. One that

fewmenever learntouse.Ahardthing,tokeepyourmindon killing once you're out ofdanger and your blood'scooled off. But Logen hadalwayshad the trickof it.Sohe sat and let the slow timesneak by, and thought aboutlongago,until themoonwashigh,andtherewaspalelightwashing down between thetrees with the tickling rain.

Pale light enough for him toseehistasksby.

He uncurled his legs andstarted moving, working hisway between the tree trunks,planting his feet nice andgentle in the brush. The rainwashisally,patterandtricklemasking the soft sounds hisboots made as he circledroundbehindtheguard.

He slid out a knife, wet

blade glinting once in thepatchy moonlight, and hepaddedoutfromthetreesandthrough their camp. Betweenthe sleeping men, closeenough to touch them.Closeas a brother. The guardsniffedandshiftedunhappily,dragging his wet blanketround his shoulders, allbeadedupwithtwinklingraindrops. Logen stopped and

waited, looked down at thepale face of one of thesleepers, turned sideways,eyes closed and mouth wideopen, breath making faintsmokeintheclammynight.

The guard was still now,and Logen slipped up closebehind him, holding hisbreath. He reached out withhislefthand,fingersworkingin the misty air, feeling for

the moment. He reached outwith his right hand, fistclenchedtightroundthehardgrip of his knife. He felt hislips curling back from hisgritted teeth. Now was thetime, and when the timecomes, you strike with nobackwardglances.

Logen reached round andclamped his hand tight overthe guard's mouth, cut his

throat quick and hard, deepenough that he felt the bladescraping on his neck bones.Hejerkedandstruggledforamoment,butLogenheldhimtight, tight as a lover, andhemade no more than a quietgurgle.Logenfeltbloodoverhishands,hotandsticky.Hedidn't worry yet about theothers. If one of them wokeall they'd see would be the

outline of one man in thedarkness, and that was alltheywereexpecting.

It wasn't long before theguard went limp, and Logenlaid him down gently on hisside, head flopping. Fourshapes lay there under theirwetblankets,helpless.Maybethere'd been a time whenLogenwould've had toworkhimself up to a job like this.

Whenhe'd have had to thinkabout why it was the rightthing to do. But if there hadbeen,itwaslonggone.UpintheNorth,thetimeyouspendthinkingwillbe the timeyouget killed in. All they werenow were four tasks to getdone.

He crept up to the first,lifted his bloody knife,overhand, and stabbed him

clean in the heart rightthrough his coat, handpressed over his mouth. Hedied quieter than he slept.Logencameuponthesecondone, ready to do the same.His boot clattered intosomethingmetal.Waterflask,maybe. Whatever it was, itmade quite the racket. Thesleeping man's eyes workedopen,hestartedtolifthimself

up. Logen rammed the knifein his gut and dragged at it,slitting his belly open. Hemade a kind of a wheeze,mouth and eyes wide,clutchingatLogen'sarm.

'Eh?' The third one satstraightupandstaring.Logentorehishandfreeandheavedhis sword out. 'Wha' the—'Themanliftedhisarmup,onaninstinct,andthedullblade

tookhishandoffat thewristand chopped deep into hisskull, sending black spots ofbloodshowering into thewetair and knocking him downonhisback.

But that gave the last ofthem time enough to roll outofhisblanketandgrabupanaxe. Now he stood hunchedover, hands spread out,fighting ready like a man

who'd had plenty of practiceatit.Crow.Logencouldhearhis breath hissing, see itsmokingintherain.

'Youshould'vestartedwi'me!'hehissed.

Logen couldn't deny it.He'd been concentrating ongetting them all killed, andhadn'tpaidmuchmindtotheorder.Still,itwasabitlatetoworry now. He shrugged.

'Startorfinish,ain'ttoomuchdifference.'

'We'llsee.'Crowweighedhis axe in the misty air,shifting around, looking foranopening.Logenstoodstilland caught his breath, thesword hanging down by hisside,thegripcoldandwetinhis clenched fist. He'd neverbeen much of a one formoving until it was time.

'Best tell me your name,while you still got breath inyou. I like to knowwho I'vekilled.'

'You already know me,Crow.' Logen held his otherhandup,andheletthefingersspreadout,andthemoonlightglinted black on his bloodyhand, and on the bloodystump of his missing finger.'Wewere side by side in the

line at Carleon. Neverthoughtyou'dallforgetmesosoon. But things don't oftenturn out the way we expect,eh?'

He'd stopped movingnow, had Crow. Logencouldn't see more than agleamofhiseyesinthedark,but he could tell the doubtand the fear in the way hestood. 'No,' he whispered,

shaking his head in thedarkness. 'Can't be!Ninefingersisdead!'

'That so?' Logen took adeepbreathandpusheditout,slow, into the wet night.'ReckonImustbehisghost.'

They'd dug some sort of ahole to squat in, the Unionlads, sacks and boxes up on

thesidesasarampart.Logencould see the odd facemoving over the top, staringoff into the trees, the dulllight from the guttering fireglintingonanarrowheadoraspear tip. Dug in, watchingfor another ambush. If they'dbeennervybefore, theyweremost likely shittingthemselves now. Probablyoneofthemwouldgetscared

and shoot him as soon as hemade himself known. DamnUnionbowshadatriggerthatwentoffatatouch,oncetheywere drawn. Would havebeen just about his luck, togetkilledovernothing in themiddle of nowhere, and byhisownsidetoo,buthedidn'thave much of a choice. Notunless he wanted to walk uptothefront.

So he cleared his throatand called out. 'Now no oneshoot or anything!' A stringwent and a bolt thudded intoa tree a couple of strides tohisleft.Logenhuncheddownagainstthewetearth.'Nooneshoot,Isaid!'

'Who'soutthere?''It's me, Ninefingers!'

Silence. 'The Northman whowasonthecart!'

A long pause, and somewhispering. 'Alright! Butcomeoutslow,andkeepyourhands where we can seethem!'

'Fair enough!' Hestraightenedupandcreptoutfrom the trees, hands heldhigh.'Justdon'tshootme,eh?That'syourendofthedeal!'

He walked across thegroundtowardsthefire,arms

spread out, wincing at thethought of getting a bolt inhis chest any minute. Herecognised the faces of thelads from before, them andtheofficerwhohadchargeofthe supply column.A coupleof them followed him withtheir bows as he steppedslowly over the makeshiftparapet and down into thetrench.Ithadbeendugalong

in front of the fire, but notthatwell,andtherewasabigpuddleinthebottom.

'Where the hell did youget to?'demanded theofficerangrily.

'Tracking them thatambushedustonight.'

'Did you catch 'em?' oneoftheboysasked.

'ThatIdid.'

'And?''Dead.' Logen nodded at

the puddle in the bottom ofthehole.'Soyouneedn'tsleepin the water tonight. Any ofthatstewleft?'

'How many were there?'snappedtheofficer.

Logen poked around theembersofthefire,butthepotwas empty. Just his luck,

again.'Five.''You, on your own,

againstfive?''There were six to begin

with, but I killed one at thestart. He's in the trees overtheresomewhere.'Logendugaheelofbreadoutofhispackandrubbeditroundtheinsideof thepot, trying toget a bitof meat grease on there, atleast.'Iwaiteduntiltheywere

sleeping, so I only had tofightoneof'em,facetoface.Alwaysbeen lucky thatway,I guess.' He didn't feel thatlucky.Lookingathishandinthe firelight, it was stillstained with blood. Darkblood under his fingernails,dried into the lines in hispalm.'Alwaysbeenlucky.'

Theofficerhardly lookedconvinced.'Howdoweknow

that you aren't one of them?That you weren't spying onus? That they aren't waitingouttherenow,foryoutogivethem a signal when we'revulnerable?'

'You've been vulnerablethe whole way,' snortedLogen. 'But it's a fairquestion.Ithoughtyoumightask it.' He pulled the canvasbag out fromhis belt. 'That's

why I brought you this.' Theofficerfrownedashereachedout for it, shook it open,peered suspiciously inside.He swallowed. 'Like I said,there were five. So you gotten thumbs in there. Thatsatisfyyou?'

The officer looked moresick than satisfied, but henodded, lips squeezedtogether, and held the bag

back out to him at arm'slength.

Logen shook his head.'Keep it. It's a finger I'mmissing.IgotallthethumbsIneed.'

Thecartlurchedtoastop.Forthe last mile or two they'dmoved at a crawl. Now theroad, if you could use the

wordaboutaseaofmud,waschoked up with flounderingmen. They squelched theirwayfromonenearsolidspotto another, flowing throughthe thin rain between thepress of mired carts andunhappyhorses, thestacksofcrates and barrels, the ill-pitched tents.Logenwatcheda group of filth-caked ladsstrainingatawagonstuckup

to its axles in the muck,withoutmuchsuccess. Itwaslike seeing an army sinkslowly into a bog. A vastshipwreck,onland.

Logen's travellingcompanions were down toseven now, hunched andgaunt, looking mighty tiredfromsleeplessnightsandbadweather on the trail. Onedead,onesentbacktoUffrith

already with an arrow in hisleg.Notthebeststarttotheirtime in theNorth, butLogendoubted it would get anybetter from here on. Heclambereddownoff thebackofthecart,bootssinkingintothe well-rutted mud, archedhis back and stretched hisaching legs out, dragged hispackdown.

'Luck,then,'hesaidtothe

lads. None of them spoke.They'd hardly said aword tohim since the night of theambush. Most likely thatwhole business with thethumbshadgotthemworried.Butifthatwastheworsttheysawwhile theywere up herethey'd have done alright,Logenreckoned.Heshruggedand turned away, startedfloundering through the

muck.Just up ahead the officer

from the supply column wasbeing dealt a talking-to by atall, grim-looking man in ared uniform, seemed like theclosest thing they had in allthis mess to someone incharge. It took Logen aminute to recognise him.They'dsattogetheratafeast,in very different

surroundings, and they'dtalked of war. He lookedolder, leaner, tougher, now.He had a hard frown on hisfaceandalotofhardgreyinhis wet hair, but he grinnedwhenhe sawLogenstandingthere, and walked up to himwithhishandout.

'By the dead,' he said ingood Northern, 'but fate canplaysometricks.Iknowyou.'

'Likewise.''Ninefingers,wasn'tit?''That's right. And you're

West.FromAngland.''That I am. Sorry I can't

give you a better welcome,butthearmyonlygotuphereadayor twoagoand,asyoucansee, thingsaren'tquite inorderyet.Notthere,idiot!'heroaredatadrivertryingtoget

his cart between two others,the space between themnowhere near wide enough.'Doyouhavesucha thingassummer in this bloodycountry?'

'You're looking at it.Didn'tyouseewinter?'

'Huh. You've a pointthere. What brings you uphere,anyway?'

Logen handed West theletter. He hunched over toshield it from the rain andreadit,frowning.

'Signed by LordChamberlainHoff,eh?'

'Thatagoodthing?'Westpursedhislipsashe

handed the letter back. 'Isuppose that depends. Itmeans you've got some

powerful friends. Or somepowerfulenemies.'

'Bitofboth,maybe.'Westgrinned. 'Ifindthey

go together. You've come tofight?'

'ThatIhave.''Good.Wecanalwaysuse

a man with experience.' Hewatched the recruitsclamberingdownoffthecarts

andgave a long sigh. 'We'vestill got far too many herewithout. You should go upand join the rest of theNorthmen.'

'You've got Northmenwithyou?'

'We have, and morecoming over every day.Seems that a lot of themaren'ttoohappywiththewaytheir King has been leading

them.AbouthisdealwiththeShankainparticular.'

'Deal?With the Shanka?'Logen frowned. He'd neverhave thought that evenBethodwouldstoopthatlow,butitwashardlythefirsttimehe'd been disappointed. 'He'sgot Flatheads fighting withhim?'

'He certainly does. He'sgot Flatheads, and we've got

Northmen. It's a strangeworld,alright.'

'That it surely is,' saidLogen, shaking his head.'Howmanydoyouhave?'

'About three hundred, I'dsay,atlastcount,thoughtheydon't take too well to beingcounted.'

'Reckon I'llmake it threehundred and one, then, if

you'llhaveme.''They'recampedup there,

on the left wing,' and hepointed towards the darkoutline of trees against theeveningsky.

'Right enough.Who's thechief?'

'Fellow called theDogman.'

Logenstaredathimfora

long moment. 'Called thewhat?'

'Dogman. You knowhim?'

'You could say that,'whispered Logen, a smilespreading right across hisface.'Youcouldsaythat.'

Dusk was pressing on fastandnightwaspressinginfast

behind,andthey'djustgotthelong fire burning as Logenwalked up. He could see theshapes of the Carls takingtheirplacesdowneachsideofit, heads and shoulders cutout black against the flames.He could hear their voicesandtheirlaughter,loudinthestilleveningnowtherainhadstopped.

It had been a long time

since he heard a crowd ofmen all speaking Northern,and it sounded strange in hisears, even if it was his owntongue. Itbroughtbacksomeugly memories. Crowds ofmen shouting at him,shouting for him. Crowdscharging intobattle, cheeringtheirvictories,mourningtheirdead. He could smell meatcooking from somewhere. A

sweet, rich smell that tickledhis nose and made his gutgrumble.

There was a torch set upon a pole by the path, and abored-looking lad stoodunderneath it with a spear,frowning at Logen as hewalkedup.Must'vedrawntheshort straw, to be on guardwhile the otherswere eating,and he didn't look too happy

aboutit.'What d'you want?' he

growled.'You got the Dogman

here?''Aye,whatofit?''I'llneedtospeaktohim.''Willyou,now?'Another man walked up,

well past his prime, with ashock of grey hair and a

leathery face. 'What we gothere?'

'New recruit,' grumbledthe lad. 'Wants to see thechief.'

The old man squinted atLogen, frowning. 'DoIknowyou,friend?'

Logen lifted up his facesothetorchlightfellacrossit.Better to look a man in the

eye,andlethimseeyou,andshow him you feel no fear.That was the way his fatherhadtaughthim.'Idon'tknow.Doyou?'

'Wheredidyoucomeoverfrom?Whitesides'crew,isit?'

'No. I been workingalone.'

'Alone?Well,now.Seemslike I recognise—' The old

boy's eyes opened up wide,andhisjawsaggedopen,andhis face went white as cutchalk. 'By all the fuckingdead,' hewhispered, taking astumbling step back. 'It's theBloody-Nine!'

Maybe Logen had beenhoping no one would knowhim. That they'd all haveforgotten. That they'd havenew things to worry them,

and he'd be just a man likeany other. But now he sawthatlookontheoldboy'sface—that shitting-himself look,and itwas clear enoughhowit would be. Just the way itused to be.And theworst ofit was, now that Logen wasrecognised, and he saw thatfear,andthathorror,andthatrespect,hewasn'tsurethathedidn't like seeing it. He'd

earnedit,hadn'the?Afterall,factsarefacts.

HewastheBloody-Nine.The laddidn'tquiteget it

yet.'Havingajokeonmeareyer? You'll be tellingme it'sBethod his self come overnext,eh?'Butnoonelaughed,andLogen liftedhishandupand stared through the gapwherehismiddle fingerusedto be. The lad looked from

that stump, to the tremblingoldmanandback.

'Shit,'hecroaked.'Where'syourchief,boy?'

Logen's own voice scaredhim.Flat,anddead,andcoldasthewinter.

'He's… he's…' The ladraised a quivering finger topointtowardsthefires.

'Wellthen.GuessI'llsniff

him out myself.' The two ofthem edged out of Logen'sway. He didn't exactly smileas he passed. More he drewhislipsbacktoshowthemhisteeth. There was a certainreputation to be lived up to,after all. 'No need to worry,'he hissed in their faces. 'I'monyourside,ain'tI?'

No one said a word tohim as he walked along

behind theCarls, up towardstheheadofthefire.Acoupleof them glanced over theirshoulders, but nothing morethananynewcomerinacampmight get. They'd no ideawho he was, yet, but theysoon would have. That ladand that old man would bewhispering, and thewhisperswouldspreadaroundthefire,aswhispersdo,andeveryone

wouldbewatchinghim.He started as a great

shadowmovedbesidehim,sobig he'd taken it for a tree atfirst. A huge, big man,scratching at his beard,smilingat the fire.TulDuru.There could be nomistakingtheThunderhead, even in thehalf-light. Not a man thatsize. Made Logen wonderafresh how the hell he'd

beatenhiminthefirstplace.He felt a strange urge,

rightthen,justtoputhisheaddown andwalk past, off intothe night and never lookback. Then hewouldn't havetobe theBloody-Nine again.It would just have been afresh lad and an old man,swore they saw a ghost onenight. He could've gone faraway, and started new, and

beenwhoeverhewanted.Buthe'd tried that once already,andithaddonehimnogood.The past was always rightbehind him, breathing on hisneck. It was time to turnaroundandfaceit.

'Alright there, big lad.'Tulpeeredathiminthedusk,orange light and blackshadowshiftingacrosshisbigrockofaface,hisbigrugofa

beard.'Who…holdon…'Logen

swallowed.He'dnoidea,nowhethoughtaboutit,whatanyofthemmightmakeofseeinghim again. They'd beenenemies long before theywere friends, after all. Eachone of them had fought him.Each one had been keen tokill him, and with goodreasonstoo.Thenhe'drunoff

south and left them to theShanka. What if all he gotafterayearormoreapartwasacoldlook?

ThenTulgrabbedholdofhim and folded him in acrushing hug. 'You're alive!'Heletgoofhimlongenoughtocheckhehadtherightman,thenhuggedhimagain.

'Aye, I'm alive,' wheezedLogen,justenoughbreathleft

inhimtosayit.Seemedhe'dget one warm welcome, atleast.

Tulwasgrinningalloverhis face. 'Come on.' And hebeckoned Logen after. 'Theladsaregoingtoshit!'

HefollowedTul,hisheartbeating in his mouth, up totheheadofthefire,wherethechief would sit with hisclosest Named Men. And

theretheywere,sataroundonthe ground. Dogman was inthe middle, mutteringsomething quiet to Dow.Grim was on the other side,leaning on one elbow,fiddling with the flights onhis arrows. It was just likenothinghadchanged.

'Got someone here to seeyou, Dogman,' said Tul, hisvoice squeaky from keeping

thesurprisein.'Haveyou,now?'Dogman

peered up at Logen, but hewas hidden in the shadowsbehind Tul's great shoulder.'Can't it wait 'til after we'veeaten?'

'Do you know, I don'tthinkitcan.'

'Why?Whoisit?''Who is it?' Tul grabbed

Logen's shoulder and shovedhim lurching out into thefirelight. 'It's only LogenfuckingNinefingers!'Logen'sboot slid in the mud and henearly pitched on his arse,had towavehis armsaroundall over to keep his balance.The talk around the fire allsputtered out in a momentand every face was turnedtowards him. Two long,

frozenrowsofthem,slackinthe shifting light, no soundbut the sighingwind and thecrackling fire. The Dogmanstaredupathimasthoughhewasseeingthedeadwalk,hismouth hanging wider andwider open with everypassingmoment.

'I thought you was allkilled,' said Logen as he gothis balance back. 'Guess

there's such a thing as beingtoorealistic'

Dogman got to his feet,slowly.Heheldouthishand,andLogentookholdofit.

Therewasnothingtosay.Not for men who'd beenthroughasmuchasthetwoofthem had together—fightingthe Shanka, crossing themountains, getting throughthewars, and after. Years of

it. Dogman pressed his handand Logen slapped his otherhand on top of it, andDogman slapped his otherhand on top of that. Theygrinned at each other, andnodded,andthingswerebackthe way they had been.Nothingneededsaying.

'Grim.Goodtoseeyou.''Uh,' grunted Grim,

handing him up a mug then

looking back to his shafts,just as though Logen hadgone for a piss aminute agoandcomebackaminutelaterlike everyone had expected.Logenhadtogrin.He'dhavehopedfornothingelse.

'That Black Dow hidingdownthere?'

'I'dhavehiddenbetterifIknewyouwerecoming.'Dowlooked Logen up and down

with a grin not entirelywelcoming. 'If it ain'tNinefingershis self.Thoughtyousaidhewentoveracliff?'hebarkedatDogman.

'That'swhatIsaw.''Oh, I went over.' Logen

remembered the wind in hismouth,therockandthesnowturningaroundhim,thecrashas the water crushed hisbreath out. 'I went on over

andIwashedupwhole,moreor less.' Dogmanmade roomfor him on the stretched-outhides by the fire, and he satdown,andtheotherssatnearhim.

Dow was shaking hishead. 'You always was aluckybastardwhenitcametostaying alive. I should'veknownyou'dturnup.'

'I thought the Flatheads

had got you all sure,' saidLogen. 'Howd'yougetoutofthere?'

'Threetrees got us out,'saidDogman.

Tul nodded. 'Led us outand over the mountains, andhuntedthroughtheNorth,andall the way down intoAngland.'

'Squabbling all the way

like a bunch of old women,nodoubt?'

DogmangrinnedacrossatDow. 'There was somemoaningonthetrail.'

'Where's Threetrees now,then?' Logen was lookingforward to having a wordwiththatoldboy.

'Dead,'saidGrim.Logen winced. He'd

guessed that might be theway, since Dogman was incharge. Tul nodded his bighead. 'Died fighting.Leadinga charge, into the Shanka.Diedfightingthat thing.ThatFeared.'

'Bastard fucking thing.'And Dow hawked some spitintothemud.

'WhataboutForley?'

'Dead n'all,' barked Dow.'He went into Carleon, towarnBethod that the Shankawere coming over themountains. Calder had himkilled, just for thesportof it.Bastard!' And he spat again.He'dalwaysbeenagreatoneforspitting,hadDow.

'Dead.' Logen shook hishead. Forley dead, andThreetrees dead, it was a

damnshame.Butitwasn'tsolong since he thought thewhole lot of themwere backinthemud,sofourstillgoingwasquitethebonus,inaway.'Well. Good men both. Thebest, and died well, by thesound of it. As well as mencan,anyway.'

'Aye,' said Tul, lifting upa mug. 'As well as you can.Here'stothedead.'

Theyalldrank in silence,andLogensmackedhislipsatthe taste of beer. Too longaway. 'So, a year gone by,'gruntedDow.'Wedonesomekilling, and we walked adamn long way, and wefoughtinabastardofabattle.We lost twomenandwegotusanewchief.Whatthehellyoubeenupto,Ninefingers?'

'Well…thatthereissome

kind of a tale.' Logenwonderedwhatkind,exactly,and found he wasn't sure. 'Ithought the Shanka got youall, since life's taught me toexpect the worst, so I wentsouth, and I fell in with thiswizard. I went a sort ofjourney with him, across thesea and far away, to findsome kind of a thing, whichwhenwe got there…weren't

there.' It all sounded morethanabitmadnowhesaidit.

'What kind of a thing?'asked Tul, his face allscrewedupwithpuzzlement.

'Do you know what?'Logen sucked at his teeth,tasting of drink. 'I can't saythat I really know.' They alllookedateachotherasiftheyneverheardsuchadamn-foolstory,andLogenhadtoadmit

theyprobablyhadn't. 'Still, ithardlymattersnow.Turnsoutlife ain't quite the bastard Itookitfor.'AndhegaveTulafriendlyclapontheback.

The Dogman puffed outhis cheeks. 'Well, we're gladyou're back, anyway. Guessyou'll be taking your placeagainnow,eh?'

'Myplace?'

'You'llbetakingover,no?I mean to say, you werechief.'

'Used to be, maybe, butI'venoplanstogobacktoit.Seems as if these lads arehappyenoughwiththingsthewaytheyare.'

'But you know a sightmore than me about leadingmen—'

'Idon'tknowthat'safact.Me being in charge neverworked out too well foranyone, now did it? Not forus, not for those who foughtwith us, not for them wefought against.' Logenhunched his shoulders at thememories. 'I'll put my wordin, if you want it, but I'dsooner follow you. I did mytime, and it wasn't a good

one.'Dogman looked like he'd

been hoping for a differentoutcome. 'Well… if you'resure…'

'I'm sure.' And Logenslapped him on the shoulder.'Noteasy,isit,beingchief?'

'No,' grumbled Dogman.'Itbloodyain't.'

'Besides,Ireckonalotof

these lads have been on theother side of an argumentwith me before, and they'renot altogether pleased to seeme.' Logen looked down thefire at the hard faces, heardthemutteringswithhisnamein them, too quiet to tell thematter for sure, but he couldguess that it wasn'tcomplimentary.

'They'llbegladenoughto

haveyoualongside'emwhenthefightingstarts,don'tworryaboutthat.'

'Maybe.'Seemedanawfulshamethathe'dhavetosettokillingbeforefolkwouldgivehimsomuchasanod.Sharplooks came at him from outthedark, flickingawaywhenhe looked back. There wasonly one man, more or less,who met his eye. A big lad

withlonghair,halfwaydownthefire.

'Who's that?' askedLogen.

'Who'swhat?''That lad down there

staringatme.''That there is Shivers.'

Dogman sucked at hispointed teeth. 'He's got a lotof bones, Shivers. Fought

withusafewtimesnow,andhedoesitdamnwell.Firstofall I'll tell you he's a goodmanandweowehim.ThenIought to mention that he'sRattleneck'sson.'

Logen felt a wave ofsickness.'He'swhat?'

'Hisotherson.''Theboy?''Long time ago now, all

that.Boysgrowup.'A long time ago, maybe,

but nothing was forgotten.Logen could see that straightaway. Nothing was everforgotten, up here in theNorth, and he should'veknown better than to think itmight be. 'I should saysomethingtohim.Ifwehaveto fight together… I shouldsaysomething.'

Dogman winced. 'Mightbebetterthatyoudon't.Somewounds are best not pickedat.Eat,andtalktohiminthemorning. Everything soundsfairer inthedaylight.Thatoryoucandecideagainstit.'

'Uh,'gruntedGrim.Logen stood up. 'You're

right, most likely, but it'sbettertodoit—'

'Thantolivewiththefearof it.' Dogman nodded intothe fire. 'You been missed,Logen,andthat'safact.'

'You too, Dogman. Youtoo.'

Hewalked down throughthe darkness, smelly withsmoke and meat and men,alongbehindtheCarlssittingat the fire. He felt themhunching their shoulders,

muttering as he passed. Heknew what they werethinking. The Bloody-Nine,right behind me, and there'snoworsemanintheworldtohave your back to. He couldsee Shiverswatching him alltheway,oneeyecoldthroughhis long hair, lips pressedtogether in a hard line. Hehadaknifeoutforeating,butjust as good for stabbing a

man. Logen watched thefirelightgleamingonitsedgeas he squatted down besidehim.

'So you're the Bloody-Nine.'

Logen grimaced. 'Aye. Ireckon.'

Shivers nodded, stillstaring at him. 'This is whattheBloody-Ninelookslike.'

'Hope you're notdisappointed.'

'Oh no.Notme.Good tohave a face on you, after allthistime.'

Logenlookeddownattheground, trying to think ofsomewaytocomeatit.Somewaytomovehishands,orsethis face, some words thatmightstarttomakethetiniestpart of it right. 'Those were

hard times, back then,' heendedupsaying.

'Harder'nnow?'Logen chewed at his lip.

'Well,maybenot.''Times are always hard, I

reckon,'saidShiversbetweengritted teeth. 'That ain't anexcusefordoingarunnyshit.'

'You're right. There ain'tany excuses for what I did.

I'm not proud of it. Don'tknow what else I can say,except I hope you can put itout of the way, and we canfightsidebyside.'

'I'll be honest with you,'said Shivers, and his voicewas strangled-sounding, likehewastryingnottoshout,ortrying not to cry, or both atonce,maybe.'It'sahardthingto just put behind me. You

killedmybrother,whenyou'dpromisedhimmercy,andyoucuthisarmsandlegsoff,andyou nailed his head onBethod's standard.' Hisknuckles were tremblingwhite round the grip of hisknife, and Logen saw that itwas taking all he had not tostab him in the face, and hedidn't blame him. He didn'tblamehimonebit.'Myfather

neverwasthesameafterthat.He'd nothing in him anymore. I spent a lot of yearsdreaming of killing you,Bloody-Nine.'

Logen nodded, slowly.'Well. You'll never be alonewiththatdream.'

He caught other coldlooksfromacrosstheflames,now.Frowns in theshadows,grim faces in the flickering

light. Men he didn't evenknow,afraidtotheirbones,ornursingscoresagainsthim.Awholelotoffearandawholelotof scores.Hecould countonthefingersofonehandthefolkwhowerepleased toseehim alive. Even missing afinger.Andthiswassupposedtobehissideofthefight.

Dogman had been right.Some wounds are best not

picked at. Logen got up, hisshoulders prickling, andwalked back to the head ofthe fire,where the talk cameeasier.He'dnodoubtShiverswanted to kill him just asmuchasheeverhad,butthatwasnosurprise.

You have to be realistic.No words could ever makerightthethingshe'ddone.

BadDebts

«^»

SuperiorGlokta,

ThoughIbelievethatwehave never been

formally introduced, Ihave heard your namementioned often thesepastfewweeks.Withoutcausingoffence, Ihope,itseemsasifeveryroomI enter you haverecently left,orareduesoon to arrive in, andevery negotiation Iundertakeismademorecomplicated by your

involvement.Althoughouremployersare very much opposedinthisbusiness,thereisno reason why weshould not behave likecivilisedmen. Itmaybethat you and I canhammer out between usan understanding thatwill leave us both withless work and more

progress.Iwillbewaitingforyouat the slaughter-yardnear the Tour Cornerstomorrowmorningfromsix. My apologies forsuch a noisy choice ofspot but I feel ourconversation would bebetterkeptprivate.I daresay that neitheroneofusistobeputoff

by a little ordureunderfoot.

HarlenMorrow,Secretary to HighJusticeMarovia.

Beingkind,theplacestank.Itwould seem that a fewhundredlivepigsdonotsmellsosweetasonewouldexpect.The floor of the shadowy

warehouse was slick withtheirstinkingslurry,thethickair full of their desperatenoise. They honked andsquealed, grunted and jostledeach other in their writhingpens, sensing, perhaps, thatthe slaughterman's knife wasnot sovery faraway.But,asMorrowhadobserved,Gloktawas not one to be put off bythe noise, or the knives, or,

for thatmatter,anunpleasantodour. I spend my dayswading through themetaphorical filth, after all.Why not the real thing? Theslippery footingwasmore ofa problem. He hobbled withtiny steps, his leg burning.Imagine arriving at mymeeting caked in pig dung.Thatwouldhardlyprojecttheright image of fearsome

ruthlessness,wouldit?He saw Morrow now,

leaning on one of the pens.Just like a farmer admiringhis prize-winning herd.Gloktalimpedupbesidehim,boots squelching, wincingand breathing hard, sweattrickling down his back.'Well,Morrow,youknowjusthow to make a girl feelspecial,I'llgiveyouthat.'

Marovia's secretarygrinned up at him, a smallman with a round face andeyeglasses. 'Superior Glokta,may I first say that I havenothing but the highestrespectforyourachievementsin Gurkhul, your methods innegotiation,and—'

'I did not come here toexchange pleasantries,Morrow. If that's all your

business I can think ofsweeter-smellingvenues.'

'And sweeter companionstoo, I do not doubt. Tobusiness, then. These aretryingtimes.'

'I'mwithyouthere.''Change. Uncertainty.

Unease amongst thepeasantry—'

'Alittlemorethanunease,

Iwouldsay,wouldn'tyou?''Rebellion, then. Let us

hope that the ClosedCouncil's trust in ColonelLuthar will be justified, andhewillstoptherebelsoutsidethecity.'

'Iwouldn'ttrusthiscorpseto stop an arrow, but Isuppose the Closed Councilhavetheirreasons.'

'Theyalwaysdo.Though,ofcourse,theydonotalwaysagree with each other.' Theynever agree about anything.It's practically a rule of thedamn institution. 'But it isthose that serve them,' andMorrow peered significantlyover the rims of his eye-glasses,'thatcarrytheburdenfortheirlackofaccord.Ifeelthat we, in particular, have

beensteppingoneachother'stoes rather too much foreitherofourcomfort.'

'Huh,' sneered Glokta,workinghisnumbtoesinsidehisboot. 'Idohopeyour feetaren't too bruised. I couldnever live with myself if Icaused you to limp. Mightyouhaveasolutioninmind?'

'You could say that.' Hesmiled down at the pigs,

watching them squirm andgrunt and clamber over oneanother. 'Wehadhogsonthefarm, where I grew up.'Mercy. Anything but the lifestory. 'It was myresponsibility to feed them.Rising in the morning, soearly itwas still dark, breathsmoking in the cold.'Oh, hepaintsavividpicture!YoungMaster Morrow, up to his

knees in filth, watching hispigs gorge themselves, anddreaming of escape. A bravenewlife intheglitteringcity!Morrow grinned up at him,dim light twinkling on thelensesofhis spectacles. 'Youknow, these things will eatanything.Evencripples.'

Ah.Sothat'sit.It was then that Glokta

became aware of a man

moving furtively towardsthem from the far end of theshed.Aburly-lookingmanina raggedcoat, keeping to theshadows. He had his armpressed tightly by his side,hand tuckedup inhis sleeve.Just as if he were hiding aknifeup there,andnotdoingit very well. Better just towalkupwithasmileonyourface and the knife in plain

view. There are a hundredreasonstocarryabladeinaslaughterhouse.Buttherecanonlyeverbeonereasontotryandhideone.

He glanced over hisshoulder,wincingashisneckclicked. Another man, muchlikethefirst,wascreepingupfrom that direction. Gloktaraised his eyebrows. 'Thugs?Howveryunoriginal.'

'Unoriginal,perhaps,butIthinkyouwillfindthemquiteeffective.'

'So I'm to be slaughteredin the slaughterhouse, eh,Morrow? Butchered at thebutchers! Sand dan Glokta,breaker of hearts, winner ofthe Contest, hero of theGurkish war, shat out thearses of a dozen differentpigs!' He snorted with

laughter and had to wipesomesnotoffhistoplip.

'I'msogladyouenjoytheirony,' muttered Morrow,lookingslightlyputout.

'Oh, I do. Fed to theswine. So obvious I canhonestly say it's not what Iexpected.' He gave a longsigh. 'But not expected andnotplannedforare twoquitedifferentthings.'

The bowstring made nosoundovertheclamourofthehogs.Thethugseemedatfirstto slip, to drop his shiningknife and fall on his side forno reason. Then Glokta sawtheboltpokingfromhisside.Not too great a surprise, ofcourse, and yet it alwaysseemslikemagic.

Thehiredmanattheotherend of the warehouse took a

shocked step back, neverseeing Practical Vitari slipsilently over the rail of theemptypenbehindhim.Therewas a flash of metal in thedarkness as she slashed thetendons at the back of hisknee and brought him down,hiscryquicklyshutoffasshepulled her chain tight roundhisneck.

Severard dropped down

easily from the rafters off toGlokta's left and squelchedinto the muck. He saunteredover, flatbow across hisshoulder, kicked the fallenknife off into the darknessand looked down at themanhe had shot. 'I owe you fivemarks,' he called to Frost.'Missed his heart, damn it.Liver,maybe?'

'Lither,' grunted the

albino, emerging from theshadowsat thefarendof thewarehouse. The manstruggled up to his knees,clutchingat theshaft throughhis side, twisted face halfcrustedwithfilth.Frost liftedhis stick as he passed anddealt him a crunching blowon the back of the head,putting a sharp end to hiscries and knocking him face

down in the muck. Vitari,meanwhile, had wrestled herman onto the floor and waskneeling on his back,dragging at the chain roundhisneck.Hisstrugglinggrewweaker, and weaker, andstopped. A little more deadmeat on the floor of theslaughterhouse.

Glokta looked back toMorrow. 'Howquicklythings

can change, eh,Harlen?Oneminute everyone wants toknow you. The next?' Hetapped sadly at his uselessfootwith thefilthy toeofhiscane. 'You're fucked. It's atoughlesson.'Ishouldknow.

Marovia's secretarybacked away, tongue dartingover his lips, one hand heldoutinfrontofhim.'Nowholdon—'

'Why?'Gloktapushedouthisbottomlip.'Doyoureallythink we can grow to loveeach other again after allthis?'

'Perhaps we can come tosome—'

'I'm not upset that youtried to killme.But tomakesuch a pathetic effort at it?We'reprofessionals,Morrow.It'saninsult,thatyouthought

thismightwork.''I'm hurt,' muttered

Severard.'Wounded,' sang Vitari,

chainjinglinginthedarkness.'Deethly othended,'

grunted Frost, herdingMorrow back towards thepen.

'YoushouldhavestucktolickingHoffs big drunk arse.

Or maybe you should havestayedonthefarm,withyourpigs.Toughwork,perhaps,intheearlymorning,andsoon.Butit'saliving.'

'Justwait!Justwuurgh—'Severard grabbed

Morrow's shoulder frombehind, stabbed him throughthe side of his neck andchopped his throat out ascalmlyas ifhewasguttinga

fish.Blood showered over

Glokta's boots and hestumbled back, wincing aspain shot up his ruined leg.'Shit!' he hissed through hisgums, nearly stumbling andfallingonhisarseinthefilth,onlymanagingtostayuprightbyclingingdesperatelytothefence beside him. 'Couldn'tyoujusthavestrangledhim?'

Severardshrugged. 'Sameresult,isn'tit?'Morrowslidtohisknees,eye-glassesskewedacross his face, one handclutching at his cut neckwhile bloodbubbledout intohisshirtcollar.

Glokta watched the clerktip onto his back, one legkicking at the floor, hisscraping heel leaving longstreaks in the stinkingmuck.

Alasforthepigsonthefarm.They will never now seeyoung master Morrowcoming back over the hill,returnedfromhisbravelifeinthe glittering city, his breathsmoking in the cold, coldmorning…

The secretary'sconvulsionsgrewgentler,andgentler, and he lay still.Glokta clung to the rail for a

moment,watchingthecorpse.When was it exactly that Ibecame… this? By smalldegrees, I suppose. One actpresses hard upon another,onapathwehavenochoicebut to follow, and each timethere are reasons. We dowhatwemust,wedowhatweare told, we do what iseasiest.What else canwe dobutsolveonesordidproblem

at a time? Then one day welook up and find that weare…this.

He looked at the bloodgleaming on his boot,wrinkled his nose andwipeditoffonMorrow'strouserleg.Ah, well. I would love tospend more time onphilosophy, but I haveofficials to bribe, andnoblemen to blackmail, and

votes to rig, and secretariesto murder, and lovers tothreaten. So many knives tojuggle.Andasoneclatterstothe filthy floor,anothermustgo up, blade spinning razorsharp above our heads. Itnevergetsanyeasier.

'Our magical friends arebackintown.'

Severard lifted his maskand scratched behind it. 'The

Magi?''TheFirstof thebastards,

noless,andhisboldcompanyof heroes. Him, and hisslinking apprentice, and thatwoman. The Navigator too.Keepaneyeonthem,andseeif there's a piglet we canseparate from the herd. It'shightimeweknewwhattheywereabout.Doyoustillhaveyour charming house, by the

water?''Ofcourse.''Good. Perhaps for once

wecangetaheadofthegame,and when his Eminencedemands answers we canhavethemtohand.'AndIcanfinallyearnapatontheheadfrommymaster.

'What shall we do withthese?' asked Vitari, jerking

her spiky head towards thecorpses.

Glokta sighed. 'The hogswilleatanything,apparently.'

ThecitywasgrowingdarkasGloktadraggedhisruinedlegthrough the emptying streetsand up towards the Agriont.Theshopkeeperswereclosingtheir doors, the householders

were lighting their lamps,candlelight spilling out intothe dusky alleyways throughchinks around the shutters.Happy families settling downto happy dinners, no doubt.Loving fathers with theirlovely wives, their adorablechildren, their full andmeaningfullives.Myheartfeltcongratulations.

He pressed his remaining

teeth intohis soregumswiththe effort of maintaining hispace, sweat starting todampen his shirt, his legburningmore andmore withevery lurching step. But I'mnot stopping for this uselesslumpofdeadmeat. The paincrept up from ankle to knee,fromkneetohip,fromhipallthe way up his twisted spineand into his skull. All this

effort just to kill a mid-leveladministrator, who workednomorethanafewbuildingsaway from the House ofQuestions in any case. It's adamn waste of my time, iswhatitis,it'sadamn—

'SuperiorGlokta?'A man had stepped up,

respectfully, his face inshadow. Glokta squinted athim.'DoI—'

It was well done, therewasnodenyingit.Hewasnoteven aware of the othermanuntil the bag was over hisheadandoneofhisarmswastwisted behind his back,pushing him helplesslyforward. He stumbled,fumbledhiscaneandhearditclattertothecobbles.

'Aargh!' A searing spasmshot through his back as he

tried unsuccessfully to draghis arm free, and he wasforced to hang limp, gaspingwithpaininsidethebag.Inamoment they had his wriststied and he felt a powerfulhand shoved under each ofhis armpits.Hewasmarchedaway with great speed, oneman on each side, his feetbarely scraping on thecobbles as they went. The

fastest I've walked in a goodlong while, anyway. Theirgripwasnotrough,butitwasirresistible.Professionals. Analtogetherbetterclassofthugthan Morrow stretched to.Whoever ordered this is nofool.Sowhodidorderit?

Sult himself, or one ofSult's enemies? One of hisrivals in the race for thethrone? High Justice

Marovia? Lord Brock?Anyone on the entire OpenCouncil? Or could it be theGurkish? They have neverbeen my closest friends. Thebanking house of Valint andBalk, perhaps, chosen finallytocall in theirdebt?Might Ihave seriously misjudgedyoungCaptainLuthar, even?Or could it simply beSuperior Goyle, no longer

keentosharehisjobwiththecripple? Itwas quite the list,now that he was forced toconsiderit.

He heard the footfallsslappingaroundhim.Narrowalleys. He had no idea howfartheyhadcome.Hisbreathechoed in the bag, rasping,throaty.Theheartthumps,theskinprickleswithcoldsweat.Excited. Scared, even. What

might they want with me?Peoplearenotsnatchedfromthestreetinordertobegivenpromotions, or confections,or tender kisses, more's thepity. I know why people aresnatchedfromthestreet.Fewbetter.

Down a set of steps, thetoes of his boots scuffinghelplessly against the treads.The sound of a heavy door

being heaved shut. Footstepsechoing in a tiled corridor.Anotherdoorclosing.Hefelthimself dumpedunceremoniously in a chair.Andnow,nodoubt,forbetterorworse,weshallfindout…

The bag was snatchedsuddenly from his head andGlokta blinked as harsh lightstabbed at his eyes. A whiteroom, toobright forcomfort.

A type of roomwith which Iam sadly familiar. And yet itlooks so much uglier fromthis side of the table.Someone was sittingopposite. Or the blurryoutline of a someone. Heclosed one eye and peeredthroughtheotherashisvisionadjusted.

'Well,' he murmured.'Whatasurprise.'

'Apleasantone,Ihope.''I suppose we'll see.'

Carlot dan Eider hadchanged. And it would seemthat exile has not entirelydisagreed with her. Her hairhad grown back, not all theway, perhaps, but more thanfar enough to manage afetching style. The bruisesround her throat had faded,there were only the very

faintest of marks where hercheek had been covered inscabs. She had swappedtraitor's sack-cloth for thetravellingclothesofaladyofmeans, and lookedextremelywellinthem.Jewelstwinkledonherfingers,andaroundherneck.Sheseemedeverybitasrich and sleek as when theyfirst met. That, and she wassmiling. The smile of the

player who holds all thecards.Whyisit thatIcannotlearn?Neverdoagoodturn.Especiallynotforawoman.

A small pair of scissorslay on the table before her,withineasyreach.Ofthetypethat rich women use to trimtheir nails. But just as goodfortrimmingtheskinfromthesoles of a man's feet, fortrimming his nostrils wider,

for trimming his ears off,stripbyslowstrip…

Glokta found it decidedlydifficult to move his eyesaway from those polishedlittle blades, shining in thebright lamplight. 'I thought Itoldyounevertocomeback,'he said, but his voice lackeditscustomaryauthority.

'You did. But then Ithought… why ever not? I

have assets in the city that Iwasnotwilling to relinquish,and some businessopportunities that I am keento take advantage of.' Shetookupthescissors, trimmedthe thinnest scrap from thecorner of one alreadyperfectly-shaped thumbnail,and frowned at the results.'And it's hardly as thoughyou'll be telling anyone I'm

here,now,isit?''My concerns for your

safety are all laid to rest,'gruntedGlokta.My concernsfor my own, alas, grow witheverymoment.Amanisneverso crippled, after all, that hecould not be more so. 'Didyou really need to go to allthistroublejusttoshareyourtravelarrangements?'

Hersmilegrewsomewhat

broader, if anything. 'I hopemymendidn'thurtyou.Ididaskthemtobegentle.Atleastforthetimebeing.'

'A gentle kidnapping isstill a kidnapping, though,don'tyoufind?'

'Kidnapping is such anugly word. Why don't wethink of it as an invitationdifficult to resist? At least Ilet you keep your clothes,

no?''Thatparticularfavourisa

mercytousboth,believeme.Aninvitationtowhat,mightIask, beyond a painfulmanhandling and a briefconversation?'

'I'm hurt that you needmore. But there wassomething else, since youmention it.' She pared awayanothersliverofnailwithher

scissors, and her eyes rolledup to his. 'A little debt leftover, from Dagoska. I fearthat I will not sleep easilyuntilitisrepaid.'

A few weeks in a blackcell and a choking to thepointofdeath?What formofrepayment might that earnme? 'Please, then,' hissedGlokta throughhis gums, hiseyelid flickering as he

watched those blades snip,snip, snip. 'I can scarcelystandthesuspense.'

'TheGurkisharecoming.'Hepaused for amoment,

wrong-footed.'Cominghere?''Yes. To Midderland. To

Adua. To you. They havebuilt a fleet, in secret. Theybeganbuildingitafterthelastwar, and now it is complete.

Ships to rival anything theUnion has.' She tossed herscissors down on the tableandgavealongsigh.'OrsoIhear.'

TheGurkish fleet, just asmy midnight visitor Yulweitoldme.Rumoursandghosts,perhaps.Butrumoursarenotalways lies. 'When will theyarrive?'

'I reallycouldn't say.The

mounting of such anexpedition is acolossalworkof organisation. But then theGurkishhavealwaysbeensovery much better organisedthan us. That's what makesdoing business with themsuchapleasure.'

My own dealings withthem have been less thandelightful, but still. 'In whatnumberswilltheycome?'

'A very great number, Iimagine.'

Glokta snorted. 'ForgivemeifI regardthewordsofaproven traitor with a certainscepticism, especially as youareratherthinonthedetails.'

'Haveityourway.You'rehere to be warned, notconvinced. I owe you thatmuch, I think, for givingmemylife.'

How wonderfully old-fashionedofyou. 'Andthatisall?'

She spread her hands.'Canaladynottrimhernailswithoutgivingoffence?'

'Could you not simplyhave written?' snappedGlokta, 'and spared me thechafingonmyunder-arms?'

'Oh, come now. You

never struckme as aman tobridle at a little chafing.Besides, it has given us thechancetorenewathoroughlyenjoyable friendship. Andyou have to allow me mylittle moment of triumph,after what you put methrough.'

I suppose that I can. I'vehad less charming threats,and at least she has better

tastethantomeetinapigsty.'I can simply walk away,then?'

'Did anyone pick up acane?' No one spoke. Eidergave a happy smile, showingGlokta her perfect whiteteeth. 'You can crawl away,then.Howdoesthatsound?'

Betterthanfloatingtothetop of the canal after a fewdays on the bottom, bloated

up likeagreatpale slugandsmellinglikeallthegravesinthecity.'AsgoodasI'llget,Isuppose.Idowonder,though.WhatistostopmehavingmyPracticals follow the scentofexpensive perfume after wearedonehereandfinishwhattheystarted?'

'It is so very like you tosaysuchathing.'Shesighed.'I should inform you that an

old and trustworthy businessacquaintance of mine has asealedletterinhispossession.In the event of my death, itwill be sent to the ArchLector, laying out to him theexact nature of my sentenceinDagoska.'

Glokta sucked sourly athis gums. Just what I need,another knife to juggle. 'Andwhat will occur if, entirely

independently from myactions, you succumb to therot?Orahousefallsonyou?Or you choke on a slice ofbread?'

Sheopenedhereyesverywide, as though the thoughthad only just occurred. 'Inany of those cases… Isuppose…theletterwouldbesent anyway, despite yourinnocence.' She gave a

helpless laugh. 'The world isnothinglikeasfairaplaceasit should be, in my opinion,andIdaresaythat thenativesof Dagoska, the enslavedmercenaries, and thebutcheredUnionsoldierswhoyoumade fight for your lostcause would concur.' Shesmiled as sweetly as if theywere discussing gardening.'Thingswould probably have

been far simpler for you ifyou'd hadme strangled, afterall.'

'Youreadmymind.'Butitis far too late now. I did agoodthing,andso,ofcourse,thereisapricetobepaid.

'Sotellme,beforewepartwaysagain,forwhat,wecanboth only hope, will be thelast time—are you involvedwith this business of the

vote?'Gloktafelthiseyetwitch.

'My duties would seem totouch upon it.' Indeed itoccupies my every wakinghour.

Carlot dan Eider leanedforward to a conspiratorialdistance, her elbows on thetable, her chin in her hands.'Whowillbethenextkingofthe Union, do you suppose?

Will itbeBrock?Isher?Willitbesomeoneelse?'

'A little early to say. I'mworkingonit.'

'Off you hobble, then.'She pushed out her bottomlip.'Andit'sprobablybetterifyou don't mention ourmeetingtohisEminence.'Shenodded, and Glokta felt thebagforcedbackoverhisface.

ARaggedMultitude

«^»

Jezal's command post, if youcould use the phrase in

relation to a man as utterlyconfused and clueless as hefelt,wasatthecrestofalongrise. It offered a splendidview of the shallow valleybelow.Atleast,itwouldhavebeen a splendid view inhappier times. As thingsstood, it had to be admitted,the spectacle was far frompleasant.

The main body of the

rebels entirely coveredseveral large fields furtherdown the valley, and a dark,and grubby, and threateninginfestation they seemed,glinting in placeswith brightsteel. Farming implementsand tradesman's tools,perhaps,butsharpones.

Evenatthisdistancetherewas disturbing evidence oforganisation.Straight,regular

gaps through themen for thequick movement ofmessengers and supplies. Itwas plain, even to Jezal'sunpractisedeye, that thiswasas much an army as a mob,andthatsomeonedownthereknew his business. A greatdeal better than he did,mostlikely.

Smaller, less organisedgroups of rebels were

scattered far andwide acrossthe landscape, each one aconsiderable body in its ownright. Men sent foraging forfood and water, picking thecountry clean. That crawlingblackmassonthegreenfieldsreminded Jezal of a horde ofblack ants crawling over apile of discarded applepeelings. He had not theslightest idea how many of

themtherewere,butitlookedat this distance as thoughforty thousand might havebeen a considerableunderestimate.

Downinthevillageinthebottom of the valley, behindthemainmassofrebels,fireswere burning. Bonfires orbuildings it was hard to say,but Jezal rather feared thelatter. Three tall columns of

dark smoke rose up anddrifted apart high above,giving to the air a faint andworryingtangoffire.

It was a commander'splace to set a tone offearlessness which his menwouldnotbeabletohelpbutfollow. Jezal knew that, ofcourse. And yet, lookingdownthatlong,slopingfield,he could not help but reflect

on the very great number ofmen at the other end, soominously purposeful. Hecould not stop his eyes fromdarting back towards theirown lines, so thin, meagre,and uncertain-seeming. Hecould not avoid wincing andtugging uncomfortably at hiscollar. The damn thing stillfeltfartootight.

'How do you wish the

regiments deployed, sir?'asked his adjutant, MajorOpker, with a look whichsomehowmanagedtobebothcondescending andsycophanticallatonce.

'Deployed? Er… well…'Jezal racked his brains forsomething vaguelyappropriate, let alonecorrect,to say. He had discoveredearly in his military career

that if one has an effectiveand experienced officerabove,coupledwitheffectiveand experienced soldiersbelow, one need do, andknow, nothing. This strategyhad stood him in fine steadfor several comfortablepeacetime years, but its oneshortcomingwasnowstarklylaidbare. If by somemiracleone rises to complete

command, the systemcollapsesentirely.

'Deployed…' he growled,furrowinghisbrowandtryingtogivetheimpressionhewassurveying theground, thoughhehadonlyahazyideawhatthat even meant. 'Infantry indouble line…' he ventured,remembering a fragment ofsome storyCollemWest hadonce told him. 'Behind this

hedgerow here.' And heslashedhisbatonportentouslyacrossthelandscape.Theuseof a baton, at least, he wasexpert in, having practicedextensivelybeforethemirror.

'Infrontofthehedgerow,theColonelmeans to say, ofcourse,' threw in Bayazsmoothly. 'Infantry deployedindoublelinetoeithersideofthat milestone. The light

cavalry in the trees there,heavy cavalry in awedge onthe far flank,where they canuse the open field to theiradvantage.' He displayed anuncanny familiarity withmilitary parlance. 'Flatbowsin a single line behind thehedgerow where they will atfirst be hidden from theenemy, and can give themplunging fire from the high

ground.' He winked at Jezal.'An excellent strategy,Colonel,ifImaysay.'

'Of course,' sneeredOpker, turning away to givetheorders.

Jezal gripped tight to hisbaton behind his back,rubbing nervously at his jawwith the other hand.Evidently there was a lotmore to command than

simply being called 'sir' byeveryone. He would reallyhave to read some bookswhenhegotbacktoAdua.Ifhegotback.

Three small dots haddetachedthemselvesfromthecrawling mass of humanitydowninthevalleyandstartedmoving up the rise towardthem. Shading his eyes withhishand, Jezalcould just see

a shred of white moving intheairabovethem.Aflagofparley. He felt Bayaz'decidedly uncomforting handonhisshoulder.

'Don'tworry,myboy,weare well prepared forviolence.But I feelconfidentit will not come to that.' Hegrinneddownatthevastmassof men below. 'Veryconfident.'

Jezal ardently wished hecouldhavesaidthesame.

For a famous demagogue,traitor, and inciter of riots,therewasnothingintheleastremarkable about the manknown as theTanner.He satcalmly inhis foldingchairatthe table in Jezal's tent, anordinaryfaceunderamopofcurly hair, aman ofmedium

size in a coat ofunexceptional style andcolour,agrinonhisfacethatimplied he knew very wellthatheheldtheupperhand.

'TheycallmetheTanner,'he said, 'and I have beennominated to speak for theallianceoftheoppressed,andthe exploited, and the put-upon down in the valley.Thesearetwoofmypartners

in this righteous and entirelypatriotic venture. My twogenerals, one might say.Goodman Hood,' and henodded sideways at a burlyman with a shovel beard, aruddy complexion, and aseething frown, 'and CotterHoist,'andhejerkedhisheadthe other way towards aweasellytypewithalongscaronhischeekandalazyeye.

'Honoured,' said Jezalwarily, though they lookedmore like brigands thanGenerals as far as he wasconcerned. 'I am ColonelLuthar.'

'Iknow.IsawyouwintheContest. Fine swordplay, myfriend,veryfine.'

'Oh,well, er…' Jezalwascaught off guard, 'thank you.This is my adjutant, Major

Opker, and this is… Bayaz,theFirstoftheMagi.'

Goodman Hood snortedhis disbelief, but the Tanneronly stroked thoughtfully athis lip. 'Good.Andyouhavecometofight,ornegotiate?'

'Wehave come for eitherone.' Jezal embarked on hisstatement. 'The ClosedCouncil, while condemningthe method of your

demonstration, concede thatyou may have legitimatedemands—'

Hood made a rumblingsnort.'Whatchoicehavetheygot,thebastards?'

Jezal pressed on. 'Well,er… they have instructedmeto offer you theseconcessions.' He held up thescroll thatHoff had preparedfor him, a huge thing with

elaborately carved handlesandasealthesizeofasaucer.'But I must caution you,'doing his very best to soundconfident, 'shouldyourefuse,we are quite ready to fight,and thatmymenare thebesttrained, best armed, bestprepared in the King'sservice. Each one of them isworthtwentyofyourrabble.'

The burly farmer gave a

threatening chuckle. 'LordFinsterthoughtthesame,andour rabblekickedhisarsealltheway from one end of hisestatestotheother.Hewouldhavegothimselfhungforhistrouble if he'd had a slowerhorse.Howfastisyourhorse,Colonel?'

The Tanner touched himgently on the shoulder.'Peace, now,my fiery friend.

We came to get terms, ifwecan get termswe can accept.Why not show us what youhavethere,Colonel,andwe'llsee if there is any need forthreats.'

JezalheldouttheweightydocumentandHoodsnatchedit angrily fromhishand, toreitopenandbegantoread,thethick paper crackling as itunrolled. The more he read,

thegrimmergrewhisfrown.'An insult!' he snapped

when he was done, givingJezal a brooding stare.'Lighter taxes and some shitabout the use of commonland? And that much they'llmostlikelyneverhonour!'Hetossed the scroll sideways tothe Tanner, and Jezalswallowed. He had not theleanest understanding of the

concessions or their possibleshortcomings, of course, butHood's response hardlyseemed to promise an earlyagreement.

TheTanner's eyesmovedlazily over the parchment.Different-colouredeyes,Jezalnoticed: one blue, one green.Whenhegottothebottomhelaid the document down andgave a theatrical sigh. 'These

termswilldo.''They will?' Jezal's eyes

opened wide with surprise,but nowhere near as far asGoodmanHood's.

'But these areworse thanthe last terms we wereoffered!' shouted the farmer.'BeforewesentFinster'smenrunning! You said then wecouldacceptnothingbutlandforeveryman!'

The Tanner screwed hisfaceup.'Thatwasthen.'

'Thatwas then?'mutteredHood, gaping with disbelief.'What happened to honestwagesforhonestwork?Whathappened to shares in theprofit? What happened toequal rights no matter thecost? You stood there, andyoupromisedme!'Heshovedhis hand towards the valley.

'You promised all of them!What's changed, except thatAdua'swithinourgrasp?Wecantakeallwewant!Wecan—'

'Isaythesetermswilldo!'snarled the Tanner with asuddenfury.'Unlessyoucareto fight the King's men onyour own! They follow me,Hood, not you, in case youhadn'tnoticed.'

'But you promised usfreedom, for every man! Itrusted you!' The farmer'sface hung slack with horror.'Wealltrustedyou.'

Jezal had never seen aman look so utterlyindifferent as the Tanner didnow. 'I suppose I must havethat kind of face that peopletrust,' he droned, and hisfriend Hoist shrugged and

staredathisfingernails.'Damn you, then! Damn

you all!' And Hood turnedand shoved angrily outthroughthetentflap.

JezalwasawareofBayazleaning sideways to whisperto Major Opker. 'Have thatmanarrestedbeforeheleavesthelines.'

'Arrested,myLord,but…

underaflagofparley?''Arrested,placed in irons,

and conducted to the Houseof Questions. A shred ofwhite cloth can be no hidingplacefromtheKing's justice.I believe Superior Goyle ishandlingtheinvestigations.'

'Er… of course.' Opkerrose to follow the Goodmanout of the tent, and Jezalsmiled nervously. There was

nodoubt that theTannerhadheard the exchange, but hegrinned on as though thefuture of his erstwhilecompanionwasnolongeranyofhisconcern.

'I must apologise for myassociate. In a matter likethis, you can't pleaseeveryone.' He gave aflamboyantwaveofhishand.'Butdon'tworry. I'll give the

littlepeopleabigspeech,andtell them we have all wefoughtfor,andthey'llsoonbeoff back to their homeswithnorealharmdone.Somefewwill be determined to maketrouble perhaps, but I'm sureyou can round them upwithout much effort, eh,ColonelLuthar?'

'Er… well,' mumbledJezal, left without the

slightest idea of what wasgoing on. 'I suppose that we—'

'Excellent.' The Tannersprang to his feet. 'I fear Imustnow takemy leave.Allkinds of errands to be about.Neveranypeace,eh,ColonelLuthar? Never the slightestpeace.' He exchanged a longglance with Bayaz, thenducked out into the daylight

andwasgone.'If anyone should ask,'

murmured the First of theMagi in Jezal's ear, 'I wouldtell themthat itwasa testingnegotiation,againstsharpanddetermined opponents, butthat you held your nerve,reminded them of their dutytokingandcountry,imploredthem to return to their fields,andsoforth.'

'But…' Jezal felt like hewanted to cry, he was sobaffled. Hugely baffled andhugelyrelievedatonce.'ButI—'

'If anyone should ask.'Therewas an edge toBayaz'voicethatimpliedtheepisodewasnowfinishedwith.

BelovedoftheMoon

«^»

TheDogmanstood,squintingintothesun,andwatchedthe

Union lads all shuffling pastthe other way. There's acertain look the beaten get,after a fight. Slow-moving,hunched-up, mud-spattered,mightily interested in theground. Dogman had seenthatlookbeforeoftenenough.He'd had it himself more'nonce. Sorrowful they'd lost.Shamed they'd been beaten.Guilty, to have given up

without getting a wound.Dogman knew how that felt,and a gnawing feeling itcouldbe,butguiltwasasightlesspainful thanasword-cut,andhealedasightquicker.

Some of the hurt weren'tso badly off. Bandaged orsplinted, limpingwitha stickor with their arm round amate's shoulders. Enough toget light duty for a few

weeks. Others weren't solucky. Dogman thought heknewone.An officer, hardlyold enough for a beard, hissmooth face all twisted upwith white pain and shock,his leg off just above theknee, his clothes, and thestretcher, and the two mencarryinghim,allspeckedandspatteredwithdarkblood.Hewas theonewho'dsaton the

gate, when Dogman andThreetrees had first come toOstenhormtojoinupwiththeUnion.Theonewho'dlookedat'emliketheywereapairofturds.Hedidn'tsoundsoveryclever now, squealing witheveryjoltofhisstretcher,butit hardly made the Dogmansmile. Losing a leg seemedlike harsh punishment for asneeringmanner.

West was down there bythepath, talkingtoanofficerwith a dirty bandage roundhis head. Dogman couldn'thear what they were saying,but he could guess the gist.Fromtimetotimeoneof'emwould point up towards thehills they'd come from. Asteep and nasty-looking pair,wooded mostly, with a fewhard faces of bare rock

showing. West turned andcaughttheDogman'seye,andhis face was grim as agravedigger's.Ithardlytookaquickmindtoseethatthewarweren'twonquiteyet.

'Shit,' muttered theDogman,underhisbreath.Hefeltthatsuckingfeelinginhisgut.Thatlowfeelingheusedto get whenever he had toscout out a new piece of

ground, whenever Threetreescalledforweapons,wheneverthere was nothing forbreakfastbutcoldwater.

Since he was chief,though, he seemed to have itpretty much all the time.Everything was his problemnow.'Nothingdoing?'

Westshookhisheadashewalked up. 'Bethod waswaiting for us, and in

numbers.He'sduginonthosehills. Well dug in and wellprepared, between us andCarleon.More than likely hewas ready for this before heevencrossedtheborder.'

'He always did like to beready, did Bethod. No wayroundhim?'

'Kroy's tried both theroads and had twomaulings.Now Poulder's tried the hills

headonandhadaworseone.'Dogman sighed. 'Noway

round.''No way that won't give

Bethodanicechancetostickthekniferightintous.'

'And Bethod won't bemissing no chance like that.It'swhathe'llbehopingfor.'

'TheLordMarshalagrees.He wants you to take your

mennorth.'Westglaredoutatthe grey whispers of otherhills, further off. 'He wantsyou to look for a weakness.There's no way Bethod cancoverthewholerange.'

'Is there not?' askedDogman. 'I guess we'll see.'Then he headed off into thetrees.Theboysweregoingtolovethis.

He strode up the track,

soon came up on where hiscrewwere campedout.Theywere growing all the time.Might've been four hundrednow,allcounted,andatoughcrowdtoo.Thosewho'dnevermuchcaredforBethodinthefirst place, mostly, who'dfought against him in thewars. Who'd fought againsttheDogman aswell, for thatmatter. The woods were

chokedupwith'em,satroundfires, cooking, polishing atweaponsandworkingatgear,a couple having a practice ateach other with blades.Dogmanwincedat thesoundof steel clashing. There'd bemore of that later, and withbloodier results, he didn'tdoubt.

'Chief!' they shouted athim. 'Dogman! The chief!

Heyhey!'Theyclapped theirhands and tapped theirweaponsontherockstheysaton.Dogman held up his fist,and gave the odd half-grin,and said 'aye, good, good,'and all that. He still didn'thavetheslightestcluehowtoactlikeachief,ifthetruthbetold, so he just acted like healways had. The band allseemed happy enough,

though. He guessed theyalwaysdid.Until theystartedlosing fights, and decidedtheywantedanewchief.

He came up on the firewhere thepickofhisNamedMen were passing the day.NosignofLogen,buttherestof the old crew were satround it, looking bored.Those that were still alive,leastways. Tul saw him

coming.'TheDogman'sback.''Uh,' saidGrim, trimming

atsomefeatherswitharazor.Dow was busy mopping

grease out of a pan with achunko'bread.

'How'd the Union get onwiththemhills,then?'Andhehad a sneer to his voice thatsaid he knew the answeralready. 'Makea shit from it,

didthey?''Well, they came out

second, if that's what you'reasking.'

'Second o' two sides iswhatIcallshit.'

Dogman took a deepbreath and let it pass.'Bethod's dug in good,watching the roads toCarleon. No one can see an

easyway to come at him, oran easy way around himneither. He was good andreadyforthis,Ireckon.'

'I could've bloody toldyou that!' barked Dow,spraying out greasy crumbs.'He'll haveLittlebone on oneo' themhills, andWhitesideson the other, then he'll havePale-as-Snow and Goringfurther out. Those fourwon't

be giving anyone anychances,butiftheydecideto,Bethod'll be sat behind withthe rest, and hisShanka, andhis fucking Feared, ready tosnuff'emoutdouble-time.'

'More'n likely.' Tul heldhis sword up to the light,peered at it, then set topolishing up the blade again.'Always liked tohaveaplan,didBethod.'

'And what do them thathold our leash have to say?'sneered Dow. 'What sort ofwork'stheFuriousgotforhisanimals?'

'Burr wants us to movenorth a way, through thewoods, see if Bethod's left aweakspotupthere.'

'Huh,' snorted Dow.'Bethod ain't in the habit ofleavingholes.Notunlesshe's

left one he means for us tofall into. Fall into and breakournecks.'

'Well I guess we'd betterbe careful where we treadthen,eh?'

'Morebloodyerrands.'Dogmanreckonedhewas

gettingaboutassickofDow'smoaning as Threetrees usedto be. 'And just what else

would it be, eh? That's whatlifeis.Abunchoferrands.Ifyou're worth a shit you doyour best at 'em. What's gotupyourarseanyway?'

'This!' Dow jerked hishead into the trees. 'Just this!Nothing'schangedthatmuch,has it?Wemightbeover theWhiteflow, and back in theNorth, but Bethod's dug ingood and proper up there,

withnowayfortheUniontoget round him that won'tleave theirarseshangingout.Andiftheydoknockhimoffthemhills,whatthen?IftheygettoCarleonandtheygetin,and theyburn it just as goodas Ninefingers did the lasttime, so what? Don't meannothing.Bethod'llkeepgoing,just like he always does,fightingandfallingback,and

there'll always be more hillsto sit on, and more tricks toplay.Time'llcome,theUnionwill have had their fill andthey'll piss off south andleave us to it. ThenBethod'sgoing to turn around, andwhat d'you know? He'll betheonechasingusallthewayacross the fuckingNorth andback. Winter, summer,winter,summer,andit'smore

ofthesameoldshit.Hereweare, fewer of us than thereused to be, but still pissingaround in the woods. Feelfamiliar?'

It did, somewhat, now itwas mentioned, but Dogmandidn't see what he could doabout it. 'Logen's back, now,eh?That'llhelp.'

Dowsnortedagain. 'Hah!Just when did the Bloody-

Ninebringanythingbutdeathalongwithhim?'

'Steadynow,'gruntedTul.'You owe him, remember?Wealldo.'

'There'sa limitonwhataman should owe, I reckon.'Dow tossedhispandownbythe fire and stoodup,wipinghis hands on his coat.'Where'shebeen,eh?Heleftusupinthevalleyswithouta

word,didn'the?LeftustotheFlatheads and pissed offhalfway across the world!Who'stosayhewon'twanderoffagain,ifitsuitshim,orgoover to Bethod, or set tomurder over nothing, or thedeadknowwhat?'

Dogman looked at Tul,and Tul looked back, guilty.They'd all seen Logen dosomedamndarkwork,when

the mood was on him. 'Thatwas a long time ago,' saidTul.'Thingschange.'

Dow only grinned. 'No.They don't. Tell yourselvesthattaleifitmakesyousleepeasier,butI'llbekeepingoneeyeopen, Ican tellyou that!It's the Bloody-Nine we'retalking of.Who knows whathe'lldonext?'

'I've one idea.' The

Dogman turned round andsaw Logen, leaning upagainst a tree, and he wasstartingtosmilewhenhesawthe look in his eye. A lookDogman remembered fromway back, and dragged allkind of ugly memories upafter it. That look the deadhave,whenthelife'sgoneoutof 'em, and they care fornothinganymore.

'You got a thing to saythen you can say it to myface,Ireckon.'Logenwalkedup, right up close to Dow,with his head falling on oneside, scars all pale on hishanging-down face. TheDogman felt the hairs on hisarmsstandingup,coldfeelingeven though the sun waswarm.

'Come on, Logen,'

wheedledTul,tryingtosoundlike the whole business wasalla laughwhen itwasplainasaslowdeathitwasnosuchthing. 'Dow didn't meannothingbyit.He'sjust—'

Logen spoke right overhim, staringDow in the facewith his corpse's eyes all thelongwhile. 'I thoughtwhenIgave you the last lesson thatyou'dneverneedanother.But

I guess some folk have shortmemories.' He came in evencloser, so close that theirfaces were almost touching.'Well? You need a learning,boy?'

Dogman winced, sure assure they'd set to killing oneanother,andhowthehellhe'dstop 'emonce theystartedhehadn't the faintest clue. Atense moment all round, it

seemed to last for ever. Hewouldn'thavetakenthatfromanyotherman,aliveordead,Black Dow, not evenThreetrees, but in the end hejustsplitayellowgrin.

'Nah. One lesson's all Ineed.'Andheturnedhisheadsideways,hawkedupandspatonto the ground. Then hebackedoff,nohurry,thatgrinstill on his face, like he was

sayinghe'd takea telling thistime,maybe,buthemightnotthenext.

Oncehewasgone,andnoblood spilled, Tul blew outhardlikethey'dgotawaywithmurder. 'Right then. North,was it? Someone better gettheladsreadytomove.'

'Uh,' said Grim, slidingthe last arrow intohisquiverand following him off

throughthetrees.Logen stood there for a

moment, watching 'em walk.When they'dgotawayoutofsightheturnedround,andhesquatted down by the fire,hunched over with his armsresting on his knees and hishands dangling. 'Thank thedead for that. I nearly shitmyself.'

Dogman realised he'd

been holding onto his breaththewholewhile,andheletitrush out in a gasp. 'I think Imight've, just a bit. Did youhavetodothat?'

'You know I did. Let aman like Dow take libertiesandhewon't ever stop.Thenall the rest of these ladswillget the idea that theBloody-Nine ain't anything like sofrighteningastheyheard,and

it'llbeamatteroftimebeforesomeone with a grudgedecidestotakeabladetome.'

Dogman shook his head.'That'sahardwayofthinkingaboutthings.'

'That's the way they are.They haven't changed any.Theyneverdo.'

True, maybe, but theyweren't ever going to change

if no one gave 'em half achance. 'Still. You sure allthat'sneedful?'

'Not for youmaybe.Yougot that knack that folk likeyou.' Logen scratched at hisjaw,lookingsadlyoffintothewoods. 'Reckon Imissedmychance at that about fifteenyearsago.AndIain'tgettinganother.'

The woods were warm andfamiliar. Birds twittered inthe branches, not caring adamn for Bethod, or theUnion,oranyo'thedoingsofmen. Nowhere had everseemed more peaceful, andDogman didn't like that onebit. He sniffed at the air,sifting it through his nose,over his tongue. He wasdouble careful these days,

sincethatshaftcameoverandkilled Cathil in the battle.Might have been he could'vesaved her, if he'd trusted hisown nose a mite more. Hewishedhehadsavedher.Butwishingdon'thelpany.

Dowsquatteddowninthebrush,staringoffintothestillforest. 'What is it, Dogman?Whatd'yousmell?'

'Men, I reckon, but kind

ofsour,somehow.'Hesniffedagain.'Smellslike—'

Anarrowflittedupoutofthetrees,clickedintothetreetrunkjustbesideDogmanandstuckthere,quivering.

'Shit!'hesquealed,slidingdown on his arse andfumblinghisownbowoffhisshoulder, much too late asalways. Dow slithered downcursing beside him and they

got all tangled up with eachother.Dogmannearlygothiseye poked out onDow's axebefore he managed to pushhim off.He shoved his palmout at themen behind to saystop, but they were alreadyscatteringforcover,crawlingfor trees and rocks on theirbellies, pulling out weaponsandstaringintothewoods.

Avoicedriftedoverfrom

the forest ahead. 'You withBethod?' Whoever it wasspoke Northern with somestrange-soundingaccent.

DowandDogmanlookedat each other for a minute,then shrugged. 'No!' Dowroared back. 'And if you are,you'd best make ready tomeetthedead!'

A pause. 'We're not withthat bastard, and never will

be!''Good enough!' shouted

Dogman, puttinghis headupno more'n an inch, his bowfull drawn and ready in hishands. 'Show yourselves,then!'

A man stepped out frombehind a tree maybe sixstrides distant. Dogman wasthat shocked he nearlyfumbledthestringandletthe

shaft fly. More men startedsliding out of the woods allround. Dozens of 'em. Theirhair was tangled, their facesweresmearedwithstreaksofbrown dirt and blue paint,their clotheswere ragged furandhalf-tannedhides,buttheheadsof theirspears,andthepointsoftheirarrows,andtheblades of their rough-forgedswords all shone bright and

clean.'Hillmen,' Dogman

muttered.'Hillmen we are, and

proud of it!' A great bigvoice, echoing out from thewoods. A few of 'em startedto shuffle to one side, likethey were making way forsomeone. Dogman blinked.There was a child comingbetween them.Agirl,maybe

tenyearsold,withdirtybarefeet.Shehadahugehammerover one shoulder, a thicklength of wood a stride longwith a scarred lump of ironthesizeofabrickforahead.Far andaway toobig forherto swing. It was giving hersome trouble even holding itup.

Alittleboycamenext.Hehada roundshieldacrosshis

back,muchtoowideforhim,and a great axe he waslugging along in both hands.Another boy was at hisshoulderwithaspeartwiceashigh as he was, the brightpoint waving around abovehis head, gold twinklingunder the blade in the stripsofsunlight.Hekepthavingtolookuptomakesurehedidn'tcatchitonabranch.

'I'm dreaming,' mutteredtheDogman.'Aren'tI?'

Dowfrowned.'Ify'areit'sastrangeone.'

They weren't alone, thethree children. Some hugebastard was coming upbehind. He had a ragged furround his great wideshoulders, and some bignecklace hanging down onhis great fat belly.A load of

bones. Fingerbones, theDogmansawashegotcloser.Men'sfingers,mixedupwithflat bits of wood, strangesignscutintothem.Hehadagreat yellow grin hacked outfrom his grey-brown beard,but that didn't put theDogmananymoreatease.

'Oh shit,' groaned Dow,'let'sgoback.Backsouthandenougho'this.'

'Why?Youknowhim?'Dow turned his head and

spat.'Crummock-i-Phail,ain'tit.'

Dogmanalmostwished ithad turned out to be anambush, now, rather than achat. Itwas a fact that everychild knew. Crummock-i-Phail, chief of the hillmen,was about the maddestbastard in the whole damn

North.Hepushed thespearsand

the arrows gently out of hiswayashecame.'Noneedforthat now, is there, mybeauties?We'reallfriends,orgot the same enemies, atleast, which is far better,d'you see?We all have a lotof enemies up in them hills,don't we, though? ThemoonknowsIloveagoodfight,but

coming at them great bigrocks,withBethodandallhisarse-lickers stuck in tight ontop? That's a bit too muchfight for anyone, eh? EvenyournewSouthernfriends.'

Hestoppedjustinfrontofthem, fingerbones swingingand rattling. The threechildren stopped behind him,fidgeting with their greathuge weapons and frowning

upatDowandtheDogman.'I'm Crummock-i-Phail,'

he said. 'Chief of all thehillmen.Oralltheonesasareworth a shit.' He grinned asthoughhe'd just turned up toa wedding. 'And who mightbe in charge o' this merryouting?'

Dogman felt that hollowfeeling again, but there wasnothingforit.'That'dbeme.'

Crummock raised hisbrowsathim.'Woulditnow?You're a little fellow to betelling all these big fellowsjustwhattobeabout,areyounot? You must have quitesome name on yourshoulders,I'mthinking.'

'I'm the Dogman. This isBlackDow.'

'Some strange sort of acrewyougothere,'saidDow,

frowningatthechildren.'Oh it is! It is! And a

brave one at that! The ladwithmy spear, that'smy sonScofen.Theonewithmyaxeismy son Rond.' Crummockfrowned at the girl with thehammer. 'This lad's name Ican'tremember.'

'I'm your daughter!'shoutedthegirl.

'What, did I run out ofsons?'

'Scenn got too old andyou give him 'is own sword,andSceft's toosmall tocarrynothingyet.'

Crummock shook hishead. 'Don't hardly seemright,abloodywomantakingthehammer.'

The girl threw the

hammerdownon thegroundandbootedCrummock inhisshin. 'You can carry ityourselfthen,y'oldbastard!'

'Ah!' he squawked,laughing and rubbing his legat once. 'Now I rememberyou, Isern. Your kicking'sbrought it all back in a rush.Youcantakethehammer,soyou can. Smallest one getsthebiggestload,eh?'

'You want the axe, Da?'The smaller lad held the axeup,wobbling.

'You want the hammer?'Thegirldraggeditupoutthebrush and shouldered herbrotherouttheway.

'No,my loves, all I needfor now is words, and I'veplenty of those without yourhelp. You can watch yourfather work some murder

soon, if things run smooth,but there'll be no need foraxes or hammers today. Wedidn'tcomeheretokill.'

'Whydidyoucomehere?'asked Dogman, though hewasn't sure he even wantedtheanswer.

'Right to business is it,and no time to be friendly?'Crummockstretchedhisneckto theside,hisarmsoverhis

head, and lifted one foot andshook itaround. 'Icameherebecause I woke in the night,and I walked out into thedarkness, and the moonwhispered to me. In theforest,d'yousee?Inthetrees,and in thevoicesof theowlsin the trees, and d'you knowwhatthemoonsaid?'

'Thatyou'remadasfuck?'growledDow.

Crummock slapped hishuge thigh. 'You've a prettyway of talking for an uglyman,BlackDow,butno.Themoon said…' And hebeckonedtotheDogmanlikehe had some secret to share.'You got the Bloody-Ninedownhere.'

'What if we do?' Logencame up quiet from behind,left hand resting on his

sword. Tul and Grim camewith him, frowning at all thepainted-face hillmen stoodabout, and at the three dirtychildren,andattheirgreatfatfathermostofall.

'There he is!' roaredCrummock, sticking out onegreat sausage of a tremblingfinger.'Takeyourfistoffthatblade, Bloody-Nine, before Ipiss my breaks!' He dropped

downonhiskneesinthedirt.'Thisishim!Thisistheone!'He shuffled forward throughthe brush and he clung toLogen's leg, pressing himselfupagainstitlikeadogtohismaster.

Logen stared down athim.'Getoffmyleg.'

'That I will!' Crummockjerked away and droppeddown on his fat arse in the

dirt.Dogman had never seensuch a performance. Lookedlike the rumours about himbeing cracked were rightenough. 'Doyouknowafinething,Bloody-Nine?'

'More'none,asitgoes.''Here's another, then. I

saw you fight ShamaHeartless.Isawyousplithimopenlikeapigeonforthepot,and I couldn't have done it

better my blessed self. Alovely thing to see!'Dogmanfrowned.He'dbeentheretoo,andhedidn'tremembermuchlovely about it. 'I said then,'andCrummockroseuptohisknees, 'and I said since,' andhestooduponhisfeet,'andIsaidwhenIcamedownfromthehillstoseekyouout,'andhelifteduphisarmtopointatLogen. 'That you're a man

more beloved of the moonthananyother!'

Dogman looked over atLogen, and Logen shrugged.'Who's to saywhat themoonlikesordoesn't?Whatofit?'

'Whatofit,hesays!Hah!I could watch him kill thewhole world, and a thing ofbeautyitwouldbe!Thewhatof it is, I have a plan. Itflowed up with the cold

springs under the mountains,and was carried along in thestreamsunderthestones,andwashedupontheshoreofthesacred lake right beside me,while I was dippingmy toesinthefrosty.'

Logen scratched at hisscarred jaw. 'We'vegotworktobeabout,Crummock.Yougot something worth sayingyoucangettoit.'

'ThenIwill.Bethodhatesme, and the feeling'smutual,but he hates you more.Becauseyou've stoodagainsthim,andyou'relivingproofaman of the North can be hisownman,withoutbendingonhis knee and tonguing thearse of that golden-hatbastard and his two fat sonsand his witch.' He frowned.'ThoughIcouldbepersuaded

to take my tongue to her.D'youfollowmesofar?'

'I'm keeping up,' saidLogen, but Dogman weren'taltogethersurethathewas.

'Just whistle if you dropbehind and I'll come rightback for you. My meaning'sthis. If Bethodwere to get agood chance at catching youall alone, away from yourUnionfriends,yourcrawling-

like-ants sunny-weatherlovers over down thereyonder, then, well, he mightgive up a lot to take it. Hemight be coaxed down fromhis pretty hills for a chancelike that, I'm thinking,hmmm?'

'You're betting that hehatesmealot.'

'What?Doyoudoubtthata man could hate you that

much?' Crummock turnedaway, spreading his greatlongarmsoutwideatTulandGrim. 'But it's not just you,Bloody-Nine! It's all of you,andmeaswell,andmythreesonshere!'Thegirlthrewthehammer down again andplantedherhandsonherhips,but Crummock blathered onregardless. 'I'm thinking yourboys join up with my boys

and it might be we'll haveeight hundred spears. We'llhead up north, like we'regoing up into the HighPlaces, to get around behindBethod and play merrymischief with his arse end.I'm thinking that'll get hisblood up. I'm thinking hewon't be able to pass on achancetoputallofusbackinthemud.'

The Dogman thought itover.Chanceswerethata lotof Bethod's people werejumpyaboutnow.WorriedtobefightingonthewrongsideoftheWhiteflow.Maybetheywere hearing the Bloody-Nine was back, and thinkingthey'dpickedthewrongside.Bethod would love to put afew heads on sticks foreveryone to look at.

Ninefingers, and Crummock-i-Phail, Tul Duru and BlackDow, and maybe even theDogman too. He'd like that,would Bethod. Show theNorth there was no future inanythingbuthim.He'dlikeitalot.

'Supposingwedowanderoff north,' asked Dogman.'How'sBethod even going toknowaboutit?'

Crummockgrinnedwiderthan ever. 'Oh, he'll knowbecausehiswitch'llknow.'

'Bloody witch,' piped uptheladwiththespear,histhinarms trembling as he foughttokeepitupstraight.

'That spell-cooking,painted-face bitch Bethodkeepswith him.Or does shekeephimwithher?There'saquestion, though.Eitherway,

she's watching. Ain't she,Bloody-Nine?'

'I know who you mean,'said Logen, and not lookinghappy. 'Caurib. A friend o'mine once told me she hadthe long eye.' Dogman didn'thave the first clue about allthat, but ifLogenwas takingit to heart he reckoned he'dbettertoo.

'The long eye, is it?'

grinned Crummock. 'Yourfriend'sgotaprettynameforan ugly trick. She sees allmanner of goings-on with it.All kind of things it'd bebetter for us if she didn't.Bethod trustshereyesbeforehetrustshisown, thesedays,and he'll have her watchingfor us, and for you inparticular. She'll have bothherlongeyesopenforit,that

shewill.Imaybenowizard,'and he spun one of thewooden signs around andaround on his necklace, 'butthe moon knows I'm nostranger to the businessneither.'

'And what if it goes likeyou say?' rumbledTul, 'whathappensthen?ApartfromwegiveBethodourheads?'

'Oh,Ilikemyheadwhere

it is, big lad. We draw himon,northbynorth,that'swhatthe forest told me. There's aplace up in the mountains, aplacewelllovedbythemoon.Astrongvalley,andwatchedover by the dead of myfamily, and the dead of mypeople, and the dead of themountains, all the way backuntil when the world wasmade.'

Dogman scratched hishead. 'A fortress in themountains?'

'A strong, high place.Highandstrongenoughforafew to hold off amany untilhelp were to arrive.We lurehimonupintothevalley,andyourUnionfriendsfollowupatalazydistance.Farenoughthat his witch don't see 'emcoming,she'ssobusylooking

at us. Then, while he's allcaughtupintryingtosnuffusout for good and all, theSoutherners creep up behind,and—' He slapped his palmstogether with an echoingcrack. 'We squash himbetween us, the sheep-fuckingbastard!'

'Sheep-fucker!'cursed thegirl, kicking at the hammerontheground.

They all looked at eachother foramoment.Dogmandidn'tmuchlikethesoundofthis for a plan. He didn'tmuch like the notion oftrustingtheirlivestothesay-soo'thiscrazyhillman.Butitsounded like some kind of achance. Enough that hecouldn't just sayno,howevermuchhe'dhave liked to. 'Wegottotalkonthis.'

'Course you do, my newbest friends, course you do.Don't take too long about itthough, eh?' Crummockgrinned wide. 'I been downfromtheHighPlacesforwaytoo long, and the rest o' mybeautiful children, and mybeautiful wives, and thebeautiful mountainsthemselveswillallofthembemissing me. Think on the

sunny side o' this. If Bethoddon't follow, you get a fewnights sat up in the HighPlaces as the summer dies,warming yourselves at myfire, and listening to mysongs, and watching the sungoing down over themountains. That sound sobad?Doesit?'

'You thinkingof listeningtothatmadbastard?'muttered

Tul, once they'd got out ofearshot.'Witchesandwizardsand all that bloody rubbish?He makes it up as he goesalong!'

Logen scratched his face.'He'snowherenearasmadashe sounds. He's held outagainst Bethod all theseyears.Theonlyonewhohas.Twelvewintersisitnow,he'sbeenhiding,andraiding,and

keeping one foot ahead? Upin the mountains maybe, butstill.He'dhavetobeslipperyasfishesandtoughasirontomakethatwork.'

'You trust him, then?'askedDogman.

'Trust him?' Logensnorted. 'Shit, no. But hisfeud with Bethod's deepereven than ours is. He's rightabout that witch, I seen her,

and I seen someother thingsthis past year… if he saysshe'll see us, I reckon Ibelieve him. If she doesn't,andBethoddon'tcome,well,nothinglostisthere?'

Dogman had that emptyfeeling, worse'n ever. Helooked over at Crummock,sitting on a rock with hischildren round him, and themadman smiled back a

mouthful of yellow teeth.Hardlythemanyou'dwanttohang all your hopes on, butDogman could feel the windchanging.'We'dbetakingonebastardofarisk,'hemuttered.'What ifBethodcaughtup tousandgothisway?'

'Wemovefast,then,don'twe!'growledDow.'It'sawar.Takingrisksiswhatyoudoifyoureckononwinning!'

'Uh,'gruntedGrim.Tul nodded his big head.

'We'vegottodosomething.Ididn't come here to watchBethodsitonahill.Heneedstobegotdown.'

'Got down where we canset to work on him!' hissedDow.

'But it's your choice.'Logenclappedhishanddown

on the Dogman's shoulder.'You'rethechief.'

He was the chief. Heremembered them decidingon it, gathered roundThreetrees' grave. Dogmanhad to admit, he'd muchratherhavetoldCrummocktofuck himself, then turnedround and headed back, andtoldWest theynever foundathingexceptwoods.Butonce

you've got a task, you get itdone. That's what Threetreeswould'vesaid.

Dogmangavealongsigh,that feeling in his gutbubbling up so high he wasright on the point of puking.'Alright. But this plan ain'tgoing to get us anything butdead unless the Union areready todo theirpart, and ingoodtimetoo.We'lltakeitto

Furious, and let their chiefBurrknowwhatwe'reabout.'

'Furious?'askedLogen.Tulgrinned.'Longstory.'

FlowersandPlaudits

«^»

Jezal still did not have theslightest idea why it was

necessaryforhimtowearhisbestuniform.Thedamnthingwas stiff as a board andcreaking with braid. It hadbeendesignedforstandingtoattentioninratherthanriding,and,asaresult,dugpainfullyinto his stomach with everymovement of his horse. ButBayazhadinsisted,anditwassurprisingly difficult to sayno to the old fool, whether

Jezal was supposed to be incommand of this expeditionor not. It had seemed easier,in the end, just to do as hewas told. So he rode at thehead of the long column insome discomfort, constantlytugging at his tunic andsweating profusely in thebright sun. The oneconsolationwasthathegottobreathe fresh air. Everyone

elsehadtoeathisdust.Tofurtheraddtohispain,

Bayaz was intent oncontinuing the themes thathadmadeJezalsoveryboredallthewaytotheedgeoftheWorldandback.

'…itisvitalforakingtomaintain thegoodopinionofhis subjects.And it is not sovery hard to do. The lowlyhavesmallambitions,andare

satisfied with smallindulgences. They need notget fair treatment.Theyneedonlythinkthattheydo…'

Jezal found that after awhile he could ignore thedroning of the old man'svoice, in the same way thatone could ignore the barkingof an old dog that barked allthetime.Heslumpedintohissaddle and allowed his

thoughts to wander. Andwhere else would they findtheirway,buttoArdee?

He had landed himself inquiteapickle,alright.Outonthe plain, things had seemedso very simple. Get home,marryher,happilyeverafter.Now, back in Adua, backamong the powerful, andback in his old habits, theygrew more complicated by

the day. The possibility ofdamage to his reputation andhisprospectswereissuesthatcould not simply bedismissed.Hewas aColonelin the King's Own, and thatmeant certain standards touphold.

'… Harod the Greatalways had respect for thecommon man. More thanonce, itwas the secret of his

victoriesoverhispeers…'And then Ardee herself

was so much morecomplicated in person thanshe had been as a silentmemory. Nine parts witty,clever, fearless, attractive.One part a mean anddestructive drunk. Everymoment with her was alottery, but perhaps it wasthat sense of danger that

struck the sparks when theytouched,madehisskin tingleand his mouth go dry… hisskin was tingling now, evenat the thought.He had neverfelt like this about a womanbefore,notever.Surelyitwaslove. It had to be. But waslove enough? How longwould it last?Marriage, afterall, was forever, and foreverwasaverylongtime.

Anindefiniteextensionoftheir current not-so secretromancewouldhavebeenhispreferred choice, but thatbastard Glokta had stuck hisruined foot through thatpossibility.Anvils,andsacks,andcanals.Jezalrememberedthat white monster shovinghisbagoveraprisoner'sheadonapublicthoroughfare,andshudderedatthethought.But

he had to admit that thecripple was right. Jezal'svisits were not good for thatgirl's reputation. One shouldtreat others the way onewouldwant to be treated, hesupposed, just asNinefingershadoncesaid.Butitcertainlywasadamnedinconvenience.

'…areyouevenlistening,myboy?'

'Eh? Er… yes, of course.

HarodtheGreat,andsoforth.The high respect he had forthecommonman.'

'Appeared to have,'grumbled Bayaz. 'And heknew how to take a lessontoo.'

They were getting closeto Adua now, passing out ofthefarmlandandthroughoneof the huddles of shacks,impromptu dwellings, cheap

innsandcheaperbrothelsthathadgrownuparoundeachofthe city's gates, huddlingabout the road, each onealmost a town in its ownright. Up into the longshadow of Casamir's Wall,the outermost of the city'slines of defence. A dourguardsmen stood on eitherside of the high archway,gatesmarkedwiththeGolden

sun of the Union standingopen. They passed throughthedarkness andout into thelight.Jezalblinked.

A not inconsiderablenumber of people hadgatheredinthecobbledspacebeyond, pressing in on eithersideoftheroad,heldbackbymembers of the city watch.They burst into a chorus ofhappycheersastheysawhim

ride through the gate. Jezalwondered for a moment if itwas a case of mistakenidentity, and they had beenexpecting someone of actualimportance.Harod theGreat,perhaps, for all he knew. Hesoon began to make out thename 'Luthar' repeatedamongst the noise, however.A girl at the front flung aflower at him, lost under his

horse's hooves, and shoutedsomethinghecouldnotmakeout.ButhermannerleftJezalwith no doubts. All thesepeoplehadgatheredforhim.

'What's happening?' hewhispered to the First of theMagi.

Bayaz grinned as thoughhe,atleast,hadexpectedit.'Iimagine the people of Aduawishtocelebrateyourvictory

overtherebels.''Theydo?'Hewincedand

gave a limp-wristed wave,and the cheering grewnoticeably in volume. Thecrowdonlythickenedastheymade their way into the cityand the space reduced.Therewerepeople scatteredupanddown the narrow streets,people at the downstairswindows and people higher

up, whooping and cheering.More flowers were thrownfrom a balcony high abovethe road. One stuck in hissaddleandJezalpickeditup,turned it round and round inhishand.

'Allthis…forme?''Did you not save the

city? Did you not stop therebels, andwithout spilling adropofbloodoneitherside?'

'But they gave up for noreason.Ididn'tdoanything!'

Bayazshrugged,snatchedthe flower from Jezal's handandsniffedatit,thentosseditaway and nodded his headtowards a clump of cheeringtradesmen crowding a streetcorner. 'It would seem theydisagree. Just keep yourmouth shut and smile. That'salwaysgoodadvice.'

Jezal did his best tooblige, but the smiles werenot coming easily. LogenNinefingers, he wasreasonably sure, would nothave approved. If there wasan opposite to trying to looklike less than youwere, thenthis, surely, was its verydefinition. He glancednervously around, convincedthat the crowds would

suddenly recognise him forthe utter fraud he felt, andreplace the flowers and callsof admiration with angryjeersandthecontentsoftheirchamberpots.

Butitdidnothappen.Thecheering continued as Jezaland his long column ofsoldiers worked their slowwaythroughtheThreeFarmsdistrict.WitheachstreetJezal

passed down he relaxed alittle more. He slowly beganto feel as if he must indeedhave achieved somethingworthy of the honour. Towonder if he might, in fact,have been a dauntlesscommander, a masterfulnegotiator. If the people ofthe city wished to worshiphimastheirhero,hebegantosuppose it would be churlish

torefuse.They passed through a

gate in Arnault's Wall andinto thecentraldistrictof thecity. Jezal sat up tall in hissaddle and puffed out hischest. Bayaz dropped behindto a respectful distance,allowing him to lead thecolumn alone. The cheeringmounted as they trampeddownthewideMiddleway,as

theycrossedtheFourCornerstowards the Agriont. It waslike the feeling of victory atthe Contest, only it hadinvolved considerably lesswork, and was that reallysuch an awful thing? Whatharmcoulditdo?Ninefingersand his humility be damned.Jezalhadearnedtheattention.He plastered a radiant smileacross his face. He lifted his

arm with self-satisfiedconfidence, and began towave.

The great walls of theAgriont rose up ahead andJezal crossed themoat to thelooming south gatehouse,rode up the long tunnel intothe fortress, the cracklinghoovesandtrampingbootsofthe King's Own echoing inthe darkness behind him. He

processed slowly down theKingsway, approvinglyobserved by the great stonemonarchs of old and theiradvisers, between highbuildings crammed withonlookers, and into theSquareofMarshals.

Crowds had beencarefully arranged on eachside of the vast open space,leaving a long track of bare

stonedownthemiddle.Atthefar end a wide stand ofbenches had been erected, acrimson canopy in the centredenoting the presence ofroyalty. The noise andspectaclewerebreathtaking.

Jezal remembered thetriumph laid on for MarshalVaruzwhenhereturnedfromhis victory over theGurkish,remembered staring wide-

eyed,littlemorethanachild.He had caught one fleetingglimpse of the Marshalhimself,seatedhighonagreycharger, but never imaginedthatonedayhemight ride inthe place of honour. It stillseemed strange, if he washonest. After all, he haddefeated a bunch of peasantsratherthanthemostpowerfulnation in the Circle of the

World.Still,itwashardlyhisplace to judge who wasworthyofatriumphandwhowasnot,wasit?

And so Jezal spurred hishorse forwards, passingbetween the rows of smilingfaces, waving arms, throughair thick with support andapproval. He saw that thegreat men of the ClosedCouncilwerearrangedacross

the front rowof benches.Herecognised Arch Lector Sultinshiningwhite,HighJusticeMaroviainsolemnblack.Hiserstwhile fencing master,Lord Marshal Varuz, wasthere,LordChamberlainHoffjust beside him. Allapplauding, mostly with afaint disdain which Jezalfound rather ungracious. Inthemidst,wellproppedupon

a gilded chair, was the Kinghimself.

Jezal, now fully adjustedto his role of conqueringhero, dragged hard on thebridle making his steed rearup, front hooves thrashingtheatrically at the air. Hevaulted from the saddle,approached the royal dais,and sank gracefully down onone knee, head bowed, the

applause of the crowdechoingaroundhim, toawaittheKing'sgratitude.Woulditbe too much to hope for afurther promotion? Perhapseven a title of his own? Itseemed suddenly hard tobelieve that he had beenforcedtoconsideraquietlifeinobscurity,notsoverylongago.

'YourMajesty…'heheard

Hoffsaying,andhepeeredupfrom under his brows. TheKing was asleep, his eyesfirmly closed, his mouthhangingopen.Hardlyagreatsurprise in its own way, theman was long past his best,butJezalcouldnothelpbeinggalled. It was the secondtime, after all, that he hadslumbered through one ofJezal's moments of glory.

Hoff nudged the monarch assubtly as possible with anelbow, but when he did notwake, was forced to leanclosetowhisperinhisear.

'Your Majesty—' He gotno further. The King leanedsideways, his head slumping,and fell all of a sudden fromhisgildedchair,sprawlingonhis back before the strickenmembers of the Closed

Council like a landedwhale.Hisscarletrobefloppedopento reveal a great wet stainacross his trousers and thecrowntumbledfromhishead,bounced once and clatteredacrosstheflags.

There was a collectivegasp, punctuated by a shriekfrom a lady near the back.Jezal could only stare, openmouthed, as the Lord

Chamberlain flung himselfdown on his knees, bendingover the stricken King. Asilent moment passed, amoment in which everyperson in the Square ofMarshals held their breath,then Hoff got slowly to hisfeet. His face had lost all ofitsredness.

'The King is dead!' hewailed, the tortured echoes

ringing from the towers andbuildings around the square.Jezal could only grimace. Itwasjusthisluck.Nownoonewouldbecheeringforhim.

TooManyKnives

«^»

Logen sat on a rock, twentystrides from the track that

Crummockwas leading themup. He knew all the ways,Crummock-i-Phail, all theways in the North. That wastherumour,andLogenhopeditwasa fact.Hedidn't fancybeing led straight into anambush. They were headingnorth,towardsthemountains.HopingtodrawBethoddownoff his hills and up into theHigh Places. Hoping the

Unionwouldcomeupbehindhim,andcatchhim ina trap.Anawfullotofhoping,that.

It was a hot, sunny day,and the earth under the treeswasbrokenwith shadowandslashed with bright sunlight,shifting as the branchesmoved in the wind, the sunslippingthroughandstabbingin Logen's face from time totime. Birds tweeted and

warbled, trees creaked andrustled, insects floated in thestill air, and the forest floorwasspatteredwithclumpsofflowers, white and blue.Summer, in the North, butnone of it made Logen feelany better. Summer was thebest season for killing, andhe'd seen plenty more mendie in good weather than inbad.Sohekepthiseyesopen,

looking out into the trees,watching hard and listeningharder.

That was the taskDogman had given him.Stayingoutontherightflank,makingsurenoneofBethod'sboyscreptupwhiletheywereall spread out in file downthat goat track. It suitedLogenwellenough.Kepthimon the edge, where none of

his own side might gettemptedtotryandkillhim.

Watching men movingquietthroughthetrees,voiceskept down low, weapons atthe ready, brought back arush of memories. Somegood, somebad.Mostly bad,it had to be said. One mancameawayfromtheothersasLogen watched, startedwalking towardshimthrough

thetrees.Hehadabiggrinonhis face, just as friendly asyou like, but that meantnothing, Logen had knownplentyofmenwhocouldgrinwhile they planned to killyou.He'ddoneithimself,andmorethanonce.

He turned his bodysideways a touch, sliding hishand down out of sight andcurlingit tightroundthegrip

of a knife. You can neverhave too many knives, hisfather had told him, and thatwasstrongadvice.Helookedaround,slowandeasy,justtomakesuretherewasnooneathisback,but therewereonlyemptytrees.Soheshiftedhisfeet for a better balance andstayed sitting, trying to lookasifnothingworriedhim,butwitheverymuscletensedand

readytospring.'Myname'sRedHat.'The

man stopped nomore than astrideaway,stillgrinning,hislefthandslackonthepommelof his sword, the other justhanging.

Logen's mind raced,thinkingoverallthemenhe'dwronged, or hurt, or gotbound up in a feud with.Thosehe'dleftalive,anyway.

Red Hat. He couldn't find aplaceforitanywhere,butthatwasnoreassurance.Tenmenwith ten big books couldn'thave kept track of all theenemies he'd made, and thefriendsandthefamilyandthealliesofallhisenemies.Andthatwaswithoutamantryingtokillhimwithoutmuchofareason, just tomake his ownname bigger. 'Can't say I

recognisethename.'Red Hat shrugged. 'No

reason you should do. Ifought for Old Man Yawl,way back. He was a goodman, was Yawl, a man youcouldrespect.'

'Aye,' said Logen, stillwatching hard for a suddenmove.

'Butwhenhewentbackto

the mud I got a place withLittlebone.'

'Never saw eye to eyewith Littlebone, even whenwewereonthesameside.'

'Neither did I, beinghonest. A right bastard. Allbloatedupwithvictories thatBethod won for him. Didn'tsitwellwithme.That'swhyIcameover,youknow?WhenI heard Threetreeswas here.'

He sniffed and looked downat the earth. 'Someone needsto do something about thatfuckingFeared.'

'So they tell me.' Logenwas hearing a lot about thisFeared, and none of it good,but it'd takemore thana fewwordsintherightdirectiontogethishandoffhisknife.

'Still, the Dogman's agood chief, I reckon. One of

the best I've had. Knows hisbusiness. Careful, like.Thinksaboutthings.'

'Aye. Always thought hewouldbe.'

'You think Bethod'sfollowingus?'

Logendidn'ttakehiseyesfromRedHat's.'Maybeheis,maybe he isn't. Don't reckonwe'll know 'til we get up in

the mountains and hear himknockingatthedoor.'

'You think the Union'llkeeptotheirendofit?'

'Don't see why not. ThatBurrseemstoknowwhathe'sabout,farasIcantell,andhisboy Furious as well. Theysaid they'll come, I reckonthey'll come. Not much wecan do about it either waynow,though,isthere?'

Red Hat wiped somesweat from his forehead,squintingoff into the trees. 'Ireckonyou're right.Anyway,all's I wanted to say was, Iwas in thebattle, at Ineward.Iwas on the other side fromyou,butIsawyoufight,andIkeptwellaway,Icantellyouthat.'He shookhishead, andgrinned. 'Never sawanythinglike that, before or since. I

suppose what I'm saying is,I'm happy to have you withus.Realhappy.'

'Y'are?' Logen blinked.'Alright,then.Good.'

Red Hat nodded. 'Well.That's all. See you in thefight,Ireckon.'

'Aye. In the fight.' Logenwatched him stride awaythrough the trees, but even

when Red Hat was well outofsight,hesomehowcouldn'tmake his hand uncurl fromthe grip of his knife, stillcouldn't lose the feeling thathehadtowatchhisback.

Seemed he'd let himselfforget what the North waslike. Or he'd let himselfpretend itwouldbedifferent.Nowhesawhismistake.He'dmadeatrapforhimself,years

ago.He'dmadeagreatheavychain, link by bloody link,andhe'dboundhimselfup init. Somehow he'd beenofferedthechancetogetfree,achancehedidn't comeneartodeserving,but insteadhe'dblundered back in, and nowthingswereapttogetbloody.

He could feel it coming.Agreatweight of death, likethe shadow of a mountain

fallingonhim.Everytimehesaidaword,ortookastep,orhad a thought, even, itseemed he'd somehowbrought it closer.Hedrank itdownwitheveryswallow,hesucked it in with everybreath. He hunched hisshouldersupandstareddownathisboots,stripsofsunlightacross the toes. He shouldneverhaveletgoofFerro.He

shouldhaveclung toher likea child to its mother. Howmany things halfway goodhad he been offered in hislife?Andnowhe'dturnedonedown, and chosen to comeback and settle some scores.He licked his teeth, and hespat sour spit out onto theearth. He should've knownbetter. Vengeance is neverhalfwayassimple,orhalfway

as sweet, as you think it'sgoingtobe.

'I bet you're wishing youdidn'tcomebackatall,eh?'

Logenjerkedhisheadup,on the point of pulling theknife and setting to work.Thenhe saw itwasonlyTulstandingoverhim.Hepushedthe blade away and let hishands drop. 'Do you knowwhat? The thought had

occurred.'The Thunderhead

squatted down beside him.'Sometimes I find my ownname's a heavy weight tocarry. Dread to think how anamelikeyoursmustdragataman.'

'Itcanseemaburden.''Ibet itcan.'Tulwatched

the men moving past, single

file,downonthedustytrack.'Don't mind 'em. They'll getusedtoyou.Andifthingsgetlow, well, you've always gotBlack Dow's smile to fallbackon,eh?'

Logen grinned. 'That'strue. It's quite the smile hehas, that man. It seems tolight up the whole world,don'tit?'

'Like sunshine on a

cloudyday.'Tulsatdownonthe rock next to him, pulledthe stopper from his canteenandhelditout.'I'msorry.'

'You'resorry?Forwhat?''That we didn't look for

you,afteryouwentover thatcliff.Thoughtyouweredead.'

'Can't say I holdmuchofagrudgeforthat.IwasprettydamnsureIwasdeadmyself.

I'mtheoneshouldhavegonelookingforyoulot,Ireckon.'

'Well. Should've lookedfor each other, maybe. But Iguess you learn to stophoping, after a while. Lifeteaches you to expect theworst,eh?'

'Youhavetoberealistic,Ireckon.'

'Thatyoudo.Still,itcame

outalright.Backwithusnow,aren'tyou?'

'Aye.' Logen sighed.'Back to warring, and badfood, and creeping throughwoods.'

'Woods,'gruntedTul,andhesplitabiggrin.'WillIevergettiredofem?

Logen took a drink fromthe canteen, then handed it

back, and Tul took a swighimself.Theysatthere,silent,foraminute.

'I didn't want this, youknow,Tul.'

'Course not. None of uswanted this. Don't mean wedon't deserve it, though, eh?'Tul slapped his big handdown on Logen's shoulder.'Youneed to talk itover, I'maround.'

Logen watched him go.He was a good man, theThunderhead. A man thatcould be trusted. There werestillafewleft.Tul,andGrim,and theDogman.BlackDowtoo,inhisownway.Italmostgave Logen some hope, thatdid. Almost made him gladthathechosetocomebacktothe North. Then he lookedbackatthefileofmenandhe

saw Shivers in there,watching him. Logen wouldhave liked to look away, butlooking away wasn'tsomething the Bloody-Ninecould do. So he sat there onhis rock, and they stared ateachother,andLogenfeltthehatred digging at him untilShivers was lost through thetrees. He shook his headagain, and sucked his teeth

again,andspat.You can never have too

many knives, his father hadtold him. Unless they'repointedatyou,andbypeoplewhodon'tlikeyoumuch.

BestofEnemies

«^»

Tap,tap.'Not now!' stormed

Colonel Glokta. 'I have allthese to get through!' Theremust have been ten thousandpapers of confession for himto sign. His desk wasgroaning with great heaps ofthem, and the nib of his penwassoftasbutter.Whatwiththeredink,hismarkslookedlike dark bloodstains sprayedacross the pale paper. 'Damnit!' he raged as he knocked

over the bottle with hiselbow,splashinginkoutoverthe desk, soaking into thepiles of papers, dripping tothe floor with a steady tap,tap,tap.

'There will be time laterfor you to confess. Ampletime.'

The Colonel frowned.The air had grown decidedlychill. 'You again! Always at

theworsttimes!''Yourememberme,then?''I seem to…' In truth, the

Colonelwasfindingithardtorecall from where. It lookedlike a woman in the corner,buthecouldnotmakeoutherface.

'TheMakerfellburning…he broke upon the bridgebelow…' The words were

familiar,butGloktacouldnothave said why. Old storiesand nonsense. He winced.Damnitbuthisleghurt.

'I seem to…' His usualconfidence was all ebbingaway.Theroomwasicycoldnow, he could see his breathsmoking before his face. Hestumbledupfromhischairashis unwelcome visitor camecloser, his leg aching with a

vengeance. 'What do youwant?'hemanagedtocroak.

The face came into thelight. It was none other thanMauthis, from the bankinghouse of Valint and Balk.'The Seed, Colonel.' And hesmiled his joyless smile. 'IwanttheSeed.'

'I… I…' Glokta's backfound the wall. He could gonofurther.

'The Seed!' Now it wasGoyle'sface,nowSult's,nowSeverard's, but they allmadethesamedemand. 'TheSeed!Ilosepatience!'

'Bayaz,' he whispered,squeezing his eyes closed,tears running out fromunderneath his lids. 'Bayazknows—'

'Tap, tap, torturer.' Thewoman's hissing voice again.

Afinger-tipjabbedatthesideofhishead,painfullyhard.'Ifthatoldliarknew,itwouldbemine already. No. You willfind it.' He could not speakforfear.'Youwillfindit,orIwill tear the price from yourtwisted flesh. So tap, tap,timetowake.'

The finger stabbed at hisskull again, digging into thesideofhisheadlikeadagger

blade. 'Tap, tap, cripple!'hissed the hideous voice inhis ear, breath so cold itseemed to burn his barecheek.'Tap,tap!'

Tap,tap.

For a moment Gloktahardly knew where he was.He jerked upright, strugglingwith the sheets, staringabout

him, hemmed in on everyside by threatening shadows,his own whimpering breathhissing in his head. Theneverything fell suddenly intoplace.Mynewapartments.Apleasant breeze stirred thecurtains in the sticky night,washingthroughtheoneopenwindow. Glokta saw itsshadow shifting on therendered wall. It swung shut

against the frame, open, thenshutagain.

Tap,tap.He closed his eyes and

breatheda longsigh.Wincedashesaggedbackinhisbed,stretching his legs out,working his toes against thecramps. Those toes theGurkishleftme,atleast.Onlyanotherdream.Everything is—

Thenheremembered,andhis eyes snapped wide open.TheKing is dead. Tomorrowweelectanewone.

The three hundred andtwenty papers were hanged,lifeless,fromtheirnails.Theyhad grown more and morecreased, battered, greasy andgrubby over the past fewweeks. As the business itselfhas slid further into the filth.

Many were ink smudged,coveredwithangrilyscrawlednotes, with fillings-in andcrossings-out. As men werebought and sold, bullied andblackmailed, bribed andbeguiled. Many were tornwhere wax had beenremoved, added, replacedwith other colours. As theallegiances shifted, as thepromiseswerebroken,as the

balance swung this way andthat.

Arch Lector Sult stoodglaring at them, like ashepherd at his troublesomeflock,hiswhitecoatrumpled,his white hair in disarray.Gloktahadneverbeforeseenhim look anything less thanperfectly presented.Hemust,atlast,tasteblood.Hisown.Iwould almost want to laugh,

ifmyownmouthwerenotsoterriblysalty.

'Brock has seventy-five,'Sult was hissing to himself,white gloved hands fussingwith each other behind hisback.'Brockhasseventy-five.Isherhasfifty-five.SkaldandBarezin, forty a piece.Brockhas seventy-five…' Hemuttered the numbers overandover,asthoughtheywere

a charm to protect him fromevil.Or from good, perhaps.'Isherhasfifty-five…'

Glokta had to suppress asmile.Brock,thenIsher,thenSkald and Barezin, while theInquisition and Judiciarystruggle over scraps. For allour efforts, the shape ofthings is much the same aswhen we began this uglydance.Wemightaswellhave

led the country then andsaved ourselves the trouble.Perhaps it is still not toolate…

Gloktanoisily clearedhisthroat and Sult's head jerkedround. 'You have somethingtocontribute?'

'In amanner of speaking,your Eminence.' Glokta kepthis tone as servile as hepossibly could. 'I received

some rather… troublinginformationrecently.'

Sultscowled,andnoddedhisheadat thepapers. 'Moretroublingthanthis?'

Equally,atanyrate.Afterall, whoever wins the votewill have but a briefcelebration if the Gurkisharriveandslaughterthelotofus a week later. 'It has beensuggested to me… that the

Gurkish are preparing toinvadeMidderland.'

There was a brief,uncomfortable pause.Scarcely a promisingreception, but we have setsailnow.Whatelsetodobutsteer straight for the storm?'Invade?' sneered Goyle.'Withwhat?'

'It is not the first time Ihave been told they have a

fleet.' Trying desperately topatch my foundering vessel.'A considerable fleet, built insecret, after the lastwar.Wecould easily make somepreparations, then if theGurkishdocome—'

'And what if you arewrong?'TheArchLectorwasfrowning mightily. 'Fromwhom did this informationcome?'

Oh, dear me no, thatwould never do. Carlot danEider?Alive?Buthow?Bodyfoundfloatingbythedocks…'An anonymous source,ArchLector.'

'Anonymous?' HisEminence glowered throughnarrowed eyes. 'And youwould have me go to theClosedCouncil,atatimelikethis, and put before them the

unproven gossip of youranonymous source?' Thewavesswampthedeck…

'I merely wished to alertyour Eminence to thepossibility—'

'When are they coming?'Thetornsailclothflapsinthegale…

'Myinformantdidnot—''Where will they land?'

The sailors topple screamingfromtherigging…

'Again, your Eminence Icannot—'

'What will be theirnumbers?' The wheel breaksoffinmyshakinghands…

Glokta winced, anddecidednottospeakatall.

'Then kindly refrain fromdistracting us with rumours,'

sneered Sult, his lip twistedwith contempt. The shipvanishes beneath themercilesswaves,hercargoofprecious warnings consignedto the deep, and her captainwill not bemissed. 'We havemore pressing concerns thana legion of Gurkishphantoms!'

'Of course, yourEminence.'AndiftheGurkish

come,whowillwehang?Oh,Superior Glokta, of course.Why ever did that damncripplenotspeakup?

Sult's mind had alreadyslipped back into its well-worncircles.'Wehavethirty-one votes and Marovia hassomething over twenty.Thirty-one. Not enough tomake the difference.' Heshook his head grimly, blue

eyes darting over the papers.As if there were some newway to look at them thatwould alter the terriblemathematics. 'Nowhere nearenough.'

'Unlesswewere to cometo an understanding withHighJusticeMarovia.'Again,a pause, even moreuncomfortable than last time.Oh dear. I must have said

thatoutloud.'An understanding?'

hissedSult.'With Marovia?' squealed

Goyle, his eyes bulgingwithtriumph. When the safeoptionsareallexhausted,wemust take risks. Is that notwhat I told myself as I rodedowntothebridge,whiletheGurkish massed upon theother side? Ah well, once

moreintothetempest…Gloktatookadeepbreath.

'Marovia'sseaton theClosedCouncil is no safer thananyone else's. We may havebeen working against eachother, but only out of habit.On the subject of this voteour aims are the same. Tosecure a weak candidate andmaintain the balance.Togetheryouhavemorethan

fifty votes. That might wellbeenoughtotipthescales.'

Goyle sneered hiscontempt. 'Join forces withthat peasant-lovinghypocrite? Have you lostyourreason?'

'Shut up, Goyle.' Sultglared at Glokta for a longwhile, his lips pursed inthought. Considering mypunishment, perhaps?

Anothertongue-lashing?Orareal lashing? Or my bodyfound floating— 'You areright. Go and speak toMarovia.'

Sand dan Glokta, oncemore the hero! Goyle's jawhung open. 'But… yourEminence!'

'The time for pride is farbehind us!' snarled Sult. 'Wemust seize any chance of

keeping Brock and the restfrom the throne. We mustfind compromises, howeverpainful, and we must takewhatever allies we can. Go!'he hissed over his shoulder,folding his arms and turningback to his crackling papers.'StrikeadealwithMarovia.'

Gloktagotstifflyupfromhis chair. A shame to leavesuch lovely company, but

whendutycalls…He treatedGoyle to the briefest oftoothlesssmiles,thentookuphis cane and limped for thedoor.

'And Glokta!' He wincedas he turned back into theroom. 'Marovia's aims andours maymeet for now. Butwe cannot trust him. Treadcarefully.'

'Of course, your

Eminence.'Ialwaysdo.Whatotherchoice,wheneverystepisagony?

TheprivateofficeoftheHighJusticewas as big as a barn,itsceilingcoveredinfestoonsofoldmoulding,riddledwithshadows. Although it wasonly late afternoon, the thickivyoutside thewindows,andthe thickgrimeon thepanes,

had sunk the place into aperpetual twilight. Totteringheapsofpaperswerestackedon every surface.Wedges ofdocuments tied with blacktape. Piles of leather-boundledgers. Stacks of dustyparchments in ostentatious,swirling script, stampedwithhuge seals of red wax andglittering gilt. A kingdom'sworth of law, it looked like.

And,indeed,itprobablyis.'Superior Glokta, good

evening.' Marovia himselfwas seated at a long tablenear the empty fireplace, setfor dinner, a flickeringcandelabramaking each dishglisten in the gloom. 'I hopeyoudonotmindifIeatwhilewe talk? I would rather dinein the comfort ofmy rooms,but I findmyself eating here

more and more. So much todo, you see?And one ofmysecretaries appears to havetaken a holidayunannounced.' A holiday tothe slaughterhouse floor, infact, byway of the intestinesof a herd of swine. 'Wouldyoucaretojoinme?'Maroviagestured at a large joint ofmeat, close to raw in thecentre, swimming in bloody

gravy.Gloktalickedathisempty

gums as he manoeuvredhimself intoachairopposite.'I would be delighted, yourWorship, but the laws ofdentistrypreventme.'

'Ah, of course. Thoselaws there can be nocircumventing, even by aHigh Justice. You have mysympathy, Superior. One of

my greatest pleasures is agood cut of meat, and thebloodierthebetter.Justshowthem the flame, I always tellmy cook. Just show it tothem.' Funny. I tell myPracticals to start the sameway. 'And to what do I owethisunexpectedvisit?Doyoucome on your own initiative,or at the urging of youremployer, my esteemed

colleague from the ClosedCouncil,ArchLectorSult?'

Your bitter mortal enemyfrom the Closed Council, doyou mean? 'His Eminence isawarethatIamhere.'

'Is he?' Marovia carvedanother slice and lifted itdripping onto his plate. 'Andwith what message has hesent you?Something relatingto tomorrow'sbusiness in the

OpenCouncil,perhaps?''You spoil my surprise,

your Worship. May I speakplainly?'

'Ifyouknowhow.'Glokta showed the High

Justice his empty grin. 'Thisaffair with the vote is aterrible thing for business.The doubt, the uncertainty,theworry.Badforeveryone's

business.''Some more than others.'

Marovia's knife squealedagainst the plate as he slit aribbonoffatfromtheedgeofhismeat.

'Of course. At particularrisk are those that sit on theClosed Council, and thosethat struggle on their behalf.Theyareunlikelytobegivensuch a free hand if powerful

men such as Brock or Isherarevotedtothethrone.'Someof us, indeed, are unlikely toliveouttheweek.

Maroviaspearedasliceofcarrotwithhisforkandstaredsourly at it. 'A lamentablestateofaffairs.Itwouldhavebeen preferable for allconcerned if Raynault orLadisla were still alive.' Hethought about it for a

moment. 'If Raynault werestill alive, at least. But thevote will take placetomorrow,howevermuchwemight tearourhair. It ishardnow to see our way to aremedy.' He looked from thecarrot to Glokta. 'Or do yousuggestone?'

'You, your Worship,control between twenty andthirty votes on the Open

Council.'Maroviashrugged.'Ihave

someinfluence,Icannotdenyit.'

'TheArchLectorcancallonthirtyvoteshimself.'

'GoodforhisEminence.''Not necessarily. If the

twoofyouopposeeachother,as you always have, yourvoteswillmeannothing.One

forIsher,theotherforBrock,andnodifferencemade.'

Marovia sighed. 'A sadend to our two glitteringcareers.'

'Unless you were to poolyour resources. Then youmight have sixty votesbetween you. As many,almost, as Brock controls.Enough to make a King ofSkald,orBarezin,orHeugen,

or even some unknown,dependingonhow thingsgo.Someonewhomightbemoreeasily influenced in thefuture. Someone who mightkeep the Closed Council hehas, rather than selecting anewone.'

'A King to make us allhappy,eh?'

'If youwere to express apreference for one man or

another, I could take thatback to his Eminence.'Moresteps, more coaxing, moredisappointments.Oh, to haveagreatofficeofmyown,andtositalldayincomfortwhilecringingbastardsslogupmystairs to smile at my insults,lap up my lies, beg for mypoisonoussupport.

'Shall I tell you whatwould make me happy,

SuperiorGlokta?'Now for the musings of

another power-mad old fart.'Byallmeans,yourWorship.'

Maroviatossedhiscutleryontohisplate,satbackinhischair and gave a long, tiredsigh. 'IwouldlikenoKingatall. I would like every manequalunderthelaw,tohaveasayintherunningofhisowncountry and the choosing of

hisown leaders. Iwould likenoKing,andnonobles,andaClosed Council selected by,and answerable to, thecitizensthemselves.AClosedCouncil open to all, youmightsay.Whatdoyouthinkofthat?'

Ithinksomepeoplewouldsay that it sounds verymuchlike treason. The rest wouldsimply call it madness. 'I

think, your Worship, thatyournotionisafantasy.'

'Whyso?''Becausethevastmajority

of men would far rather betold what to do than maketheirownchoices.Obedienceiseasy.'

TheHighJusticelaughed.'Perhaps you are right. Butthings will change. This

rebellionhasconvincedmeofit. Things will change, bysmallsteps.'

'I amsureLordBrockonthe throne is one small stepnone of uswould like to seetaken.'

'Lord Brock does indeedhave very strong opinions,mostly relating to himself.Youmakeaconvincingcase,Superior.'Maroviasatbackin

hischair,handsrestingonhisbelly, staring at Gloktathroughnarrowedeyes. 'Verywell. You may tell ArchLectorSult that thisoncewehave common cause. If aneutral candidate withsufficient support presentsthemselves, I will have myvotes cast along with his.Who could have thought it?The Closed Council united.'

He slowly shook his head.'Strangetimesindeed.'

'They certainly are, yourWorship.'Gloktastruggledtohisfeet,wincingasheputhisweight on his burning leg,and shuffled across thegloomy, echoing spacetowards the door. Strange,though,thatourHighJusticeis so philosophical on thesubject of losing his position

tomorrow. I have scarcelyeverseenamanlookcalmer.He paused as he touched thehandle of the door. Onewouldalmostsupposethatheknows something we do not.One might almost supposethathealreadyhasaplan inmind.

He turned back. 'Can Itrustyou,HighJustice?'

Marovia looked sharply

up, the carving knife poisedin his hand. 'What abeautifully quaint questionfrom a man in your line ofwork. I suppose that youcantrust me to act in my owninterests. Just as far as I cantrustyoutodothesame.Ourdealgoesnofurtherthanthat.Nor should it. You are aclever man, Superior, youmake me smile.' And he

turned back to his joint ofmeat, prodding at it with afork and making the bloodrun. 'Youshouldfindanothermaster.'

Glokta shuffled out. Acharming suggestion. But Ialready have two more thanI'dlike.

The prisoner was a scrawny,

sinewy specimen, naked andbagged as usual, with handsmanacledsecurelybehindhisback.GloktawatchedasFrostdragged him into the domedroom from the cells, hisstumbling bare feet flappingagainstthecoldfloor.

'Hewasn'ttoohardtogeta hold of,' Severard wassaying. 'He left the others awhile ago, but he's been

hanging round the city likethe smell of piss ever since.We picked him up yesterdaynight.'

Frost flung the prisonerdownin thechair.Where amI?Whohasme?Whatdotheywant? A horrifying moment,just before the work begins.The terror and thehelplessness,thesicktinglingof anticipation. My own

memory of it was sharplyrefreshed,onlytheotherday,at thehandsof the charmingMagisterEider.Iwassetfreeunmolested, however. Theprisoner sat there, head tiltedtooneside,thecanvasonthefrontof thebagmovingbackand forth with his hurriedbreath.Iverymuchdoubtthathewillbesolucky.

Glokta's eyes crept

reluctantly to the paintingabove the prisoner's baggedhead. Our old friendKanedias. The painted facestared grimly down from thedomed ceiling, the armsspreadwide,thecolourfulfirebehind. The Maker fellburning… He weighed theheavy hammer reluctantly inhishand.'Let'sgetonwithit,then.' Severard snatched the

canvas bag away with ashowyflourish.

The Navigator squintedinto the bright lamplight, aweather-beaten face, tannedand deeply lined, headshaved, like a priest. Or aconfessedtraitor,ofcourse.

'Your name is BrotherLongfoot?'

'Indeed! Of the noble

OrderofNavigators!IassureyouthatIaminnocentofanycrime!' The words came outin rush. 'I have done nothingunlawful,no.Thatwouldnotbemywayatall.Iamalaw-abidingman,andalwayshavebeen. I can think of nopossible reasonwhy I shouldbe manhandled in this way!None!' His eyes swivelleddown and he saw the anvil,

gleaming on the floorbetween him and Glokta,wherethetablewouldusuallyhave been.His voice rose anentire octave higher. 'TheOrder of Navigators is wellrespected,andIamamemberingoodstanding!Exceptionalstanding! Navigation is theforemost of my manyremarkable talents, it isindeed,theforemostof—'

Glokta cracked hishammeragainstthetopoftheanvilwithaclangtowakethedead. 'Stop! Talking!' Thelittlemanblinked,andgaped,but he shut up. Glokta sankbackinhischair,kneadingathis withered thigh, the painpricklinguphisback.'Doyouhaveanynotionofhow tiredIam?OfhowmuchIhavetodo?Theagonyofgettingout

of bed each morning leavesme a broken man before theday even begins, and thepresent moment is anexceptionallystressfulone. Itis therefore a matter of themost supreme indifference tomewhetheryoucanwalkforthe rest of your life,whetheryou can see for the rest ofyour life, whether you canhold your shit in for the rest

of your intensely short,intenselypainful life.Doyouunderstand?'

The Navigator lookedwide-eyed up at Frost,looming over him like anoutsize shadow. 'Iunderstand,'hewhispered.

'Good,'saidSeverard.'Ve'gooth,'saidFrost.'Very good indeed,' said

Glokta. 'Tell me, BrotherLongfoot, isoneamongyourremarkable talents asuperhuman resistance topain?'

The prisoner swallowed.'Itisnot.'

'Then the rules of thisgame are simple. I ask aquestion and you answerprecisely, correctly, and,aboveall,briefly.Do Imake

myselfclear?''I understand completely.

I do not speak other than to—'

Frost's fist sunk into hisgut and he folded up, eyesbulging. 'Do you see,' hissedGlokta, 'that your answerthere should have been yes?'The albino seized thewheezingNavigator'sleganddragged his foot up onto the

anvil.Oh, cold metal on thesensitive sole. Quiteunpleasant,butitcouldbesomuch worse. And somethingtells me it probably will be.FrostsnappedamanacleshutaroundLongfoot'sankle.

'Iapologiseforthelackofimagination.' Glokta sighed.'Inourdefence,it'sdifficulttobe always thinking ofsomething new. I mean,

smashingaman's feetwith alumphammer,it'sso…'

'Pethethrian?' venturedFrost.

Glokta heard a sharpvolley of laughter frombehind Severard's mask, felthis ownmouth grinning too.Hereallyshouldhavebeenacomedian, rather than atorturer. 'Pedestrian!Preciselyso.Butdon'tworry.

If we haven't got what weneed by the time we'vecrushed everything belowyour knees to pulp,we'll seeifwecan thinkof somethingmoreinventivefortherestofyour legs. How does thatsound?'

'ButIhavedonenothing!'squealed Longfoot, justgetting his breath back. 'Iknownothing!Idid—'

'Forget…aboutallthat.Itis meaningless now.' Gloktaleaned slowly, painfullyforwards, let the head of thehammertapgentlyagainsttheiron beside the Navigator'sbarefoot.'WhatIwantyoutoconcentrate on… are myquestions… and your toes…and this hammer. But don'tworryifyoufindthatdifficultnow.Believemewhen I say

—once the hammer startsfalling, you will find it easytoignoreeverythingelse.'

Longfoot stared at theanvil, nostrils flaring as hisbreathsnortedquickly inandout. And the seriousness ofthesituationfinallyimpressesitselfuponhim.

'Questions, then,' saidGlokta.'Youarefamiliarwiththe man who styles himself

Bayaz,theFirstoftheMagi?''Yes! Please! Yes! Until

recently he was myemployer.'

'Good.' Glokta shifted inhis chair, trying to find amore comfortable positionwhile bending forwards.'Very good. Youaccompanied him on ajourney?'

'Iwastheguide!''What was your

destination?''The IslandofShabulyan,

attheedgeoftheWorld.'Gloktalet theheadof the

hammer click against theanvil again. 'Ohcome,come.The edge of the World? Afantasy,surely?'

'Truly!Truly!Ihaveseen

it! I stood upon that islandwithmyownfeet!'

'Whowentwithyou?''There was… was Logen

Ninefingers, from the distantNorth.' Ah, yes, he of thescarsandthetightlips.'FerroMaljinn, a Kantic woman.'Theone that gave our friendSuperior Goyle so muchtrouble. 'Jezal dan Luthar,a… a Union officer.' A

posturing dolt. 'MalacusQuai,Bayaz' apprentice.'Theskinny liar with thetroglodyte'scomplexion.'AndthenBayazhimself!'

'Sixofyou?''Onlysix!''A long and a difficult

journey to undertake. Whatwasat theedgeof theWorldthatdemandedsuchaneffort,

besideswater?'Longfoot's lip trembled.

'Nothing!' Glokta frowned,andnudgedattheNavigator'sbig toe with the head of thehammer. 'It was not there!The thing thatBayaz sought!It was not there! He said hehadbeentricked!'

'What was it that hethoughtwouldbethere?'

'Hesaiditwasastone!''Astone?''The woman asked him.

Hesaiditwasarock…arockfrom the Other Side.' TheNavigatorshookhissweatinghead.'Anunholynotion!Iamgladwefoundnosuchthing.BayazcalledittheSeed!'

Glokta felt the grinmelting from his face. The

Seed.Isitmyimagination,orhas the room grown colder?'What else did he say aboutit?'

'Justmythsandnonsense!''Tryme.''Stories, about Glustrod,

andruinedAulcus,andtakingforms, and stealing faces!Aboutspeakingtodevils,andthe summoning of them.

AbouttheOtherSide.''What else?' Glokta dealt

Longfoot's toe a firmer tapwiththehammer.

'Ah!Ah!HesaidtheSeedwas the stuff of the worldbelow! That it was left overfrom before the Old Time,when demons walked theearth!He said it was a greatand powerful weapon! Thathemeanttouseit,againstthe

Gurkish! Against theProphet!' A weapon, frombefore the Old Time. Thesummoning of devils, thetaking of forms. Kanediasseemed to frown down fromthe wall more grimly thanever,andGloktaflinched.Heremembered his nightmaretrip into the House of theMaker, the patterns of lightonthefloor,theshiftingrings

in the darkness. Heremembered stepping outonto the roof, standing highabove the city withoutclimbingasinglestair.

'You did not find it?' hewhispered,hismouthdry.

'No!Itwasnotthere!''Andthen?''That was all! We came

back across the mountains.

Wemade a raft and rode thegreatAosbacktothesea.WetookashipfromCalcisandIsitbeforeyounow!'

Gloktanarrowedhiseyes,studying carefully hisprisoner'sface.Thereismore.I see it. 'What are you nottellingme?'

'I have told youeverything! I have no talentfor dissembling!' That, at

least, is true. His lies areplain.

'Ifyourcontract isended,whyareyoustillinthecity?'

'Because… because…'The Navigator's eyes dartedroundtheroom.

'Oh, dear me, no.' Theheavy hammer came downwith all of Glokta's crippledstrength and crushed

Longfoot'sbig toeflatwithadull thud. The Navigatorgapedatit,eyesbulgingfromhis head. Ah, that beautiful,horrible moment betweenstubbingyourtoeandfeelingthehurt.Hereitcomes.Hereit comes.Here it—Longfootlet vent a great shriek,squirmedaround inhischair,facecontortedwithagony.

'I know the feeling,' said

Glokta, wincing as hewriggled his own remainingtoes around in his sweatyboot. 'I truly, truly do, and Isympathise. That blindingflashofpain, thenupwashesthesickanddizzyfaintnessofthe shattered bone, then theslow pulsing up the leg thatseemstodragthewaterfromyour eyes and make yourwhole body tremble.'

Longfoot gasped, andwhimpered, tears glisteningon his cheeks. 'And whatcomes next? Weeks oflimping?Monthsofhobbling,crippled? And if the nextblow is to on your ankle?'GloktaproddedatLongfoot'sshin with the end of thehammer. 'Or square on yourkneecap,whatthen?Willyouever walk again? I know the

feelingswell,believeme.'Sohow can I inflict them now,on someone else? Heshrugged his twistedshoulders. One of life'smysteries. 'Another?' And heraisedthehammeragain.

'No! No! Wait!' wailedLongfoot. 'The priest! Godhelpme,apriestcame to theOrder! A Gurkish priest! Hesaid thatoneday theFirstof

the Magi might ask for aNavigator,andthathewishedto be told of it! That hewished to be told whathappenedafterward!Hemadethreats, terrible threats, wehad no choice but to obey! Iwas waiting in the city foranother Navigator, who willconvey the news! Only thismorning I told himeverything I have toldyou! I

was about to leave Adua, Iswear!'

'What was the name ofthis priest?' Longfoot saidnothing, his wet eyes wide,thebreathhissinginhisnose.Oh, why must they test me?Glokta looked down at theNavigator's toe. It wasalready starting to swell andgo blotchy, streaks of blackblood-blisters down each

side, the nail deep, broodingpurple,edgedwithangryred.Gloktaground theendof thehammer's handle savagelyinto it. 'The name of thepriest! His name! His name!His—'

'Aargh! Mamun! Godhelp me! His name wasMamun!' Mamun. Yulweispoke of him, in Dagoska.The first apprentice of the

Prophet himself. Togetherthey broke the Second Law,together they ate the flesh ofmen.

'Mamun. I see. Now.'Glokta craned furtherforward, ignoring an uglytingling up his twisted spine.'WhatisBayazdoinghere?'

Longfoot gaped, a longstring of drool hanging fromhisbottomlip.'Idon'tknow!'

'What does he want withus?WhatdoeshewantintheUnion?'

'Idon'tknow! Ihave toldyoueverything!'

'Leaning forwards is aconsiderable ordeal for me.One that I begin to tire of.'Gloktafrowned,andliftedthehammer, its polished headglinting.

'Ijustfindwaysfromhereto there! I only navigate!Please! No!' Longfootsqueezed his eyes shut,tongue wedged between histeeth.Here it comes. Here itcomes.Hereitcomes…

Gloktatossedthehammerclattering down on the floorand leaned back, rocking hisaching hips left and right totry and squeeze away the

aches. 'Verywell,' he sighed.'Iamsatisfied.'

The prisoner opened firstone grimacing eye, and thentheother.He lookedup, facefullofhope.'Icango?'

Severard chuckled softlybehind his mask. Even Frostmadeakindofhissingsound.'Of course you can go.'Glokta smiled his emptysmile. 'You can go back in

yourbag.'TheNavigator'sfacewent

slack with horror. 'God takepityonme.'

If there is a God, he hasnopityinhim.

FortunesofWar

«^»

LordMarshalBurrwasinthemidst of writing a letter, buthe smiled up asWest let the

tentflapdrop.

'Howareyou,Colonel?''Well enough, thank you,

sir.Thepreparationsarewellunderway. We should bereadytoleaveatfirstlight.'

'As efficient as ever.Where would I be withoutyou?' Burr gestured at thedecanter.'Wine?'

'Thank you, sir.' West

poured himself a glass.'Wouldyoucareforone?'

Burr indicated a batteredcanteen at his elbow. 'IbelieveitwouldbeprudentifIwastosticktowater.'

Westwinced,guiltily.Hehardly felt as if he had therighttoask,buttherewasnoescaping it now. 'How areyoufeeling,sir?'

'Much better, thank youfor asking. Much, muchbetter.'Hegrimaced, put onefist over his mouth, andburped. 'Not entirelyrecovered, but well on theway.'As though toprove thepoint he got up easily fromhis chair and strode to themap, hands clasped behindhisback.Hisfacehadindeedregained much of its colour.

He no longer stood hunchedover, wobbling as though hewereabouttofall.

'LordMarshal…Iwantedto speak to you… about thebattleatDunbrec'

Burrlookedround.'Aboutwhatfeatureofit?'

'When you were sick…'West teeteredonthebrinkofspeaking, then let the words

bubbleout.'Ididn'tsendforasurgeon!Icouldhave,but—'

'I'mproudthatyoudidn't.'West blinked.He had hardlydaredtohopeforthatanswer.'You did what I would havewanted you to do. It isimportant that an officershouldcare,butitisvitalthatheshouldnotcare toomuch.Hemust be able to place hismen in harm'sway.Hemust

be able to send them to theirdeaths, if he deems itnecessary.Hemustbeabletomakesacrifices,andtoweighthe greatest good, withoutemotion counting in hischoice. That is why I likeyou, West. You havecompassion in you, but youhave iron too.Onecannotbea great leader without acertain…ruthlessness.'

West found himself lostforwords.TheLordMarshalchuckled, and slapped thetablewithhisopenhand.'Butas it happens, no harmdone,eh? The line held, theNorthmenwere turnedoutofAngland, and I totteredthroughalive,asyoucansee!'

'Iamtrulygladtoseeyoufeelingbetter,sir.'

Burr grinned. 'Things are

looking up. We are free tomoveagain,withourlinesofsupplysecureandtheweatherfinallydry.IfyourDogman'splan works then we have achance of finishing Bethodwithin a couple of weeks!They've been a damncourageous and useful set ofallies!'

'Theyhave,sir.''But this trap must be

carefully baited, and sprungatjusttherightmoment.'Burrpeered at the map, rockingenergetically back andforwardonhisheels.'Ifwe'retoo early Bethod may slipaway. If we're too late ourNorthern friends could becrushed before we can reachthem.We have tomake surebloody Poulder and bloodyKroy don't drag their bloody

feet!' He winced and put ahandonhisstomach,reachedfor his canteen and took aswigofwater.

'I'd say you finally havethem house-trained, LordMarshal.'

'Don't you believe it.They'reonlywaitingfortheirchancetoputtheknifeinme,the pair of them! And nowtheKingisdead.Whoknows

whowillreplacehim?Votingforamonarch!Haveyoueverheardofsuchathing?'

West's mouth feltunpleasantly dry. It wasalmost impossible to believethat the whole business hadbeenpartlyhisowndoing. Itwould hardly have done totake credit for it however,giventhathisparthadbeentomurder theheir to the throne

in cold blood. 'Who do youthink they will choose, sir?'hecroaked.

'I'mnocourtier,West,forallIhaveaseatontheClosedCouncil. Brock, maybe, orIsher? I'll tell you one thingfor sure—if you think there'sviolence going on up here,it'll be twice as brutal backhome in Midderland, withhalf the mercy shown.' The

Marshal burped, andswallowed, and laid a handon his stomach. 'Gah. NoNorthman's anything like asruthless as those vultures ontheClosedCouncilwhentheyget started. And what willchange when they have theirnew man in his robes ofstate? Not much, I'mthinking.Notmuch.'

'Verylikely,sir.'

'I daresay there's nothingthatwecandoaboutiteitherway.Apairofbluntsoldiers,eh, West?' He stepped upclose to the map again, andtraced their route northwardstowards the mountains, histhick forefinger hissing overthe paper. 'We must makesureweare ready tomoveatsunup. Every hour could bevital. Poulder andKroy have

hadtheirorders?''Signedanddelivered,sir,

and they understand theurgency. Don't worry, LordMarshal,we'llbereadytogointhemorning.'

'Don't worry?' Burrsnorted. 'I'm the commanderof his Majesty's army.Worrying is what I do. Butyoushouldgetsomerest.'Hewaved West out of the tent

with one thick hand. 'I'll seeyouatfirstlight.'

They played their cards bytorchlight on the hillside, inthecalmnightunderthestars,andbytorchlightbelowthemthe Union army made itshurried preparations toadvance. Lamps bobbed andmoved,soldierscursed in thedarkness.Bangs,andclatters,

and the ill-tempered calls ofmen and beasts floatedthroughthestillair.

'There'll be no sleep foranyone tonight.' Brintfinished dealing and scrapedup his cards with hisfingernails.

'Iwish I could rememberthe last time I gotmore thanthree good hours together,'said West. Back in Adua,

most likely, before his sistercame to the city. Before theMarshalputhimonhis staff.Before he came back toAngland, before he metPrince Ladisla, before thefreezing journey north andthe thingshehaddoneon it.Hehunchedhisshouldersandfrowned down at his dog-earedcards.

'How'stheLordMarshal?'

askedJalenhorm.'Much better, I'm pleased

tosay.''Thank the fates for that.'

Kaspa raised his brows. 'Idon'tmuch fancy the idea ofthatpedantKroyincharge.'

'Or Poulder either,' saidBrint.'Theman'sruthlessasasnake.'

West could only agree.

Poulder and Kroy hated himalmostasmuchastheyhatedeach other. If one of themtook command he'd be luckyifhefoundhimselfswabbinglatrines the following day.Probablyhe'dbeonaboattoAdua within the week. Toswablatrinesthere.

'Have you heard aboutLuthar?'askedJalenhorm.

'Whatabouthim?'

'He'sbackinAdua.'Westlookedupsharply.Ardeewasin Adua, and the idea of thetwo of them together againwas not exactly a hearteningthought.

'I had a letter from mycousinAriss.'Kaspasquintedasheclumsilyfannedouthiscards. 'ShesaysJezalwasfaraway somewhere, on somekindofmissionfortheking.'

'A mission?' Westdoubted anyone would havetrusted Jezal with anythingimportantenoughtobecalledamission.

'All of Adua is buzzingwithit,apparently.'

'They say he led somecharge or other,' saidJalenhorm, 'across somebridge.'

Westraisedhiseyebrows.'Didhenow?'

'Theysayhekilledascoreofmenonthebattlefield.'

'Onlyascore?''They say he bedded the

Emperor's daughter,'murmuredBrint.

Westsnorted.'SomehowIfind that the most believableofthethree.'

Kaspa spluttered withlaughter. 'Well whatever thetruthofit,he'sbeenmadeuptoColonel.'

'Good for him,' mutteredWest,'healwaysseemstofallonhisfeet,thatboy.'

'Did you hear about thisrevolt?'

'My sister mentionedsomethingabout it inher last

letter.Why?''There was a full-scale

rebellion, Ariss tells me.Thousands of peasants,roaming the countryside,burning and looting, hanginganyone with a 'dan' in theirname. Guess who was givencommandoftheforcesenttostopthem?'

Westsighed. 'Notouroldfriend Jezal dan Luthar, by

anychance?''The very same, and he

persuadedthemtogobacktotheirhomes,howaboutthat?'

'Jezal dan Luthar,'murmured Brint, 'with thecommon touch. Who couldhavethoughtit?'

'Not me.' Jalenhormemptiedhisglassandpouredhimself another. 'But they're

calling him a hero now,apparently.'

'Toasting him in thetaverns,'saidBrint.

'CongratulatinghimintheOpenCouncil,'saidKaspa.

West scraped the jinglingpile of coins towards himwith the edge of his hand. 'Iwish I could say I wassurprised, but I always

guessed I'd be taking myorders from Lord MarshalLuthar one of these days.' Itcould have been worse, hesupposed. It couldhavebeenPoulderorKroy.

The first pink glow of dawnwas creeping across the topsofthehillsasWestwalkedupthe slope towards the LordMarshal's tent. It was past

time to give the word tomove. He saluted grimly totheguardsbesidetheflapandpushedonthrough.Onelampwasstillburninginthecornerbeyond,castingaruddyglowover the maps, over thefoldingchairsandthefoldingtables, filling the creases inthe blankets on Burr's bedwith black shadows. Westcrossedtoit,thinkingoverall

the tasks he had to get donethat morning, checking thathehadleftnothingout.

'Lord Marshal, PoulderandKroyarewaitingforyourwordtomove.'Burrlayuponhiscampbed,hiseyesclosed,his mouth open, sleepingpeacefully.Westwould haveliked to leave him there, buttime was already wasting.'Lord Marshal!' he snapped,

walking up close to the bed.Stillhedidnotrespond.

That was when Westnoticedthathischestwasnotmoving.

He reached out withhesitantfingersandheldthemaboveBurr'sopenmouth.Nowarmth.Nobreath.West feltthe horror slowly spreadingoutfromhischesttotheverytips of his fingers. There

could be no doubt. LordMarshalBurrwasdead.

Itwasgreymorningwhenthe coffin was carried fromthe tent on the shoulders ofsix solemn guardsmen, thesurgeonwalkingalongbehindwith his hat in his hand.Poulder, Kroy, West, and ascattering of the army'smostsenior men lined the path towatch it go. Burr himself

would no doubt haveapprovedofthesimpleboxinwhich his corpse would beshipped back to Adua. Thesame rough carpentry inwhich the Union's lowestlevieswereburied.

Weststaredatit,numb.Theman inside had been

like a father to him, or theclosest he had ever come tohaving one. A mentor and

protector, a patron and ateacher. An actual father,rather than the bullying,drunkenwormthatnaturehadcursed himwith.And yet hedid not feel sorrow as hestared at that rough woodenbox. He felt fear. For thearmy and for himself. Hisfirstinstinctwasnottoweep,it was to run. But there wasnowheretorunto.Everyman

had todohispart,nowmorethanever.

Kroyliftedhissharpchinandstoodupironrigidastheshadow of the casket passedacross them. 'Marshal Burrwillbemuchmissed.Hewasastaunchsoldier,andabraveleader.'

'A patriot,' chimed inPoulder, his lip trembling,one hand pressed against his

chestasthoughitmightburstopenwithemotion. 'Apatriotwho gave his life for hiscountry!Itwasmyhonourtoserveunderhisorders.'

West wanted to vomit attheir hypocrisy, but the factwas he desperately neededthem. The Dogman and hispeople were out in the hills,moving north, trying to lureBethod into a trap. If the

Union army did not follow,andsoon,theywouldhavenohelp when the King of theNorthmen finally caught upto them. They would onlysucceed in luring themselvesintotheirgraves.

'A terrible loss,' saidWest, watching the coffincarried slowly down thehillside, 'but we will honourhimbestbyfightingon.'

Kroy gave a regulationnod. 'Well said,Colonel.Wewill make these Northmenpay!'

'Wemust.Tothatend,weshould make ready toadvance. We are alreadybehindschedule,andtheplanreliesonprecise—'

'What?' Poulder stared athim as though he suspectedWest of having gone

suddenly insane. 'Moveforward? Without orders?Without a clear chain ofcommand?'

Kroy gave vent to anexplosivesnort.'Impossible.'

Poulder violently shookhishead.'Outofthequestion,entirelyoutofthequestion.'

'ButMarshalBurr'sorderswerequitespecific—'

'Circumstances have veryplainly altered.' Kroy's facewas an expressionless slab.'Until I receive explicitinstructions from the ClosedCouncil, no one will bemovingmydivisionsomuchasahair'sbreadth.'

'General Poulder, surelyyou—'

'In this particularcircumstance, I cannot but

agreewithGeneralKroy.Thearmy cannot move an inchuntil the Open Council hasselected a new king, and theking has appointed a newLord Marshal.' And he andKroyeyedeachotherwiththedeepesthatredanddistrust.

Weststoodstockstill,hismouthhanging slightlyopen,unable to believe his ears. Itwould take days for news of

Burr's death to reach theAgriont, and even if the newking decided on areplacement immediately,days for the orders to comeback.West pictured the longmiles of forested track toUffrith, the long leagues ofsalt water to Adua. A week,perhaps, if the decision wasmade at once, and with thegovernment in chaos that

hardlyseemedlikely.Inthemeantimethearmy

would sit there, doingnothing,thehillsbeforethemall but undefended, whileBethodwasgivenampletimetomarch north, slaughter theDogman and his friends, andreturn to his positions.Positions which, no doubt,untold numbers of their ownmen would be killed

assaulting once the armyfinally had a newcommander. All an utterlypointless, purposeless waste.Burr's coffin had only justpassed out of sight butalready, it seemed, it wasquiteas if themanhadneverlived. West felt the horrorcreeping up his throat,threatening to strangle himwithrageandfrustration.'But

the Dogman and hisNorthmen, our allies… theyarecountingonourhelp!'

'Unfortunate,' observedKroy.

'Regrettable,' murmuredPoulder, with a sharp intakeof breath, 'but you mustunderstand, Colonel West,that the entire business isquiteoutofourhands.'

Kroy nodded stiffly. 'Outofourhands.Andthatisall.'

West stared at the twoofthem, and a terrible wave ofpowerlessness swept overhim.Thesamefeelingthathehad when Prince Ladisladecided to cross the river,when Prince Ladisla decidedtoorderthecharge.Thesamefeeling that he had when hefloundered up in the mist,

blood in his eyes, and knewthedaywaslost.Thatfeelingthathewasnothingmorethananobserver.Thatfeelingthathe had promised himself hewould never have again. Hisownfault,perhaps.

Aman shouldonlymakesuchpromisesasheissurehecankeep.

TheKingmaker

«^»

Itwasahotdayoutside,andsunlight poured in through

the great stained-glasswindows, throwing colouredpatternsacross the tiled floorof the Lords' Round. Thegreat space usually felt airyandcool,eveninthesummer.Today it felt stuffy,suffocating, uncomfortablyhot. Jezal tugged his sweatycollar back and forth, tryingto let somebreathof air intohis uniform without moving

from his attitude of stiffattention.

Thelasttimehehadstoodin this spot, back to thecurvedwall,hadbeenthedaythe Guild of Mercers wasdissolved. It was hard toimaginethatitwaslittlemorethan a year ago, so muchseemed to have happenedsince. He had thought thenthat the Lords' Round could

not possibly have beenmorecrowded, more tense, moreexcited. How wrong he hadbeen.

The curved banks ofbenches that took up themajorityofthechamberwerecrammedtoburstingwiththeUnion's most powerfulnoblemen, and the air wasthick with their expectant,anxious, fearful whispering.

TheentireOpenCouncilwasin breathless attendance,wedged shoulder to fur-trimmed shoulder, each manwiththeglitteringchainabouthisshouldersthatmarkedhimout in gold or silver as thehead of his family. Jezalmight have had little moreunderstandingofpoliticsthanamushroom,butevenhehadto be excited by the

importance of the occasion.The selection of a newHighKing of the Union by openvote. He felt a flutter ofnerves in his throat at thethought.Asoccasionswent,itwas difficult to imagine onebigger.

The people of Aduacertainlyknewit.Beyondthewalls, in the streets andsquaresofthecity,theywere

waiting eagerly for news ofthe Open Council's decision.Waiting to cheer their newmonarch, or perhaps to jeerhim,dependingonthechoice.Beyondthehighdoorsof theLords' Round, the Square ofMarshals was a singleswarming crowd, each manand woman in the Agriontdesperate to be the first tohear word from inside.

Futures would be decided,great debts would be settled,fortuneswon and lost on theresult. Only a lucky fractionhad been permitted into thepublic gallery, but stillenough that the spectatorswerecrushedtogetheraroundthe balcony, in imminentdanger of being shoved overandplungingtothetiledfloorbelow.

Theinlaiddoorsatthefarendofthehallopenedwitharinging crash, the echoesrebounding from the distantceiling and booming aroundthe great space. There was arustling as every one of thecouncillors swivelled in hisseat to look towards theentrance,andthenaclatteroffeet as the Closed Councilapproachedsteadilydownthe

aisle between thebenches.Agaggle of secretaries, andclerks, and hangers-onhurried after, papers andledgersclutchedintheireagerhands. Lord ChamberlainHoff strode at their head,frowninggrimly.BehindhimwalkedSult,allinwhite,andMarovia, all in black, theirfaces equally solemn. Nextcame Varuz, and Halleck,

and… Jezal's face fell. WhoelsebuttheFirstoftheMagi,attired once again in hisoutrageous wizard's mantle,hisapprenticeskulkingathiselbow. Bayaz grinned asthoughheweredoingnothingmore than attending thetheatre. Their eyes met, andthe Magus had the gall towink. Jezal was far fromamused.

To a swelling chorus ofmutterings, the oldmen tooktheir high chairs behind along,curved table, facing thenoblemen on their bankedbenches.Theiraidesarrangedthemselves on smaller chairsand laid out their papers,opened their books,whispered to theirmasters inhushedvoices.Thetensioninthehall roseyet another step

towardsoutrighthysteria.Jezal felt a sweaty shiver

run up his back. Glokta wasthere,besidetheArchLector,and the familiar face wasanything but a reassurance.Jezal had been at Ardee'shouseonly thatmorning,andallnighttoo.Needlesstosay,he had neither forsworn hernor proposed marriage. Hishead spun from going round

and round the issue. Themore timehe spentwith her,the more impossible anydecisionseemedtobecome.

Glokta's fever-bright eyesswivelled to his, held them,then flicked away. Jezalswallowed, with somedifficulty. He had landedhimself in a devil of a spot,alright.What ever was he todo?

GloktagaveLutharonebriefglare. Just to remind him ofwhere we stand. Then heswivelled in his chair,grimacingashestretchedouthisthrobbingleg,pressinghistongue hard into his emptygumsashefeltthekneeclick.We have more importantbusiness than Jezal danLuthar. Far more important

business.For this one day, the

power lies with the OpenCouncil,nottheClosed.Withthe nobles, not thebureaucrats. With the many,not the few. Glokta lookeddownthetable,atthefacesofthegreatmenwhohadguidedthe course of the Union forthe last dozen years andmore: Sult, Hoff, Marovia,

Varuz, and all the rest. Onlyone member of the ClosedCouncil was smiling. Itsnewest and least welcomeaddition.

Bayazsatinhistallchair,hisonlycompanionhispallidapprentice, Malacus Quai.And he looks scantcompanionship for anyone.TheFirstoftheMagiseemedto revel in the bowel-

loosening tensionasmuchashis fellowswere horrified byit, his smile absurdly out ofplace among the frowns.Worriedfaces.Sweatybrows.Nervous whispers to theircronies. They perch onrazors,allofthem.AndItoo,of course. Let us not forgetpoor Sand dan Glokta,faithful public servant! Wecling to power by our

fingernails—slipping,slipping. We sit like theaccused, at our own trials.Weknowtheverdict isaboutto come down. Will it be anill-deserved reprieve? Gloktafelt a smile twitch the cornerof his mouth. Or analtogetherbloodiersentence?Whatsaythegentlemenofthejury?

His eyes flickered over

thefacesoftheOpenCouncilon their benches. Threehundred and twenty faces.Glokta pictured the papersnailed to the Arch Lector'swall,andhematchedthemtothe men sitting before him.The secrets, the lies, and theallegiances. The allegiancesmost of all. Which way willtheyvote?

He saw some whose

support he had made certainof.Orascertainaswecanbein these uncertain times. Hesaw Ingelstad's pink faceamong the press, near to theback,andthemanswallowedand lookedaway.As long asyou vote our way, you canlookwhere you like. He sawWetterlant's slack features afew rows back, and the mangave him an almost

imperceptiblenod.Soourlastoffer was acceptable. Fourmore for the Arch Lector?Enough to make thedifference,andkeepusinourjobs? To keep us all alive?Glokta felt his empty grinwiden.Weshallsoonsee…

In the centre of the frontrow, among the oldest andbest families ofMidderland'snobility,LordBrocksat,arms

folded,withalookofhungryexpectation. Our frontrunner, keen to spring fromthe gate. Not far from himwas Lord Isher, old andstately.The second favourite,still with every chance.Barezin and Heugen satnearby, wedgeduncomfortably together andoccasionally lookingsideways at each other with

somedistaste.Whoknows?Alate spurt and the thronecould be theirs. LordGovernorSkaldsatonthefarleft, at the front of thedelegations from Anglandand Starikland. New men,fromtheprovinces.Butavoteis still a vote, however wemightturnournosesup.Overon the far right twelveAldermen of Westport sat,

marked as outsiders by thecut of their clothes and thetoneoftheirskin.Yetadozenvotesstill,andundeclared.

There were norepresentatives of Dagoskatoday.There are none left atall, alas. Lord GovernorVurms was relieved of hispost. His son lost his headand could not attend. As forthe rest of the city—it was

conquered by the Gurkish.Well. Some wastage isinevitable. We will struggleonwithoutthem.Theboardisset, the pieces ready to bemoved. Who will be thewinner of this sordid littlegame, do we suppose? Weshallsoonsee…

The Announcer steppedforwardsintothecentreofthecircular floor, lifted his staff

high above his head andbrought itdownwithaseriesofmightycrashesthatechoedfrom the polished marblewalls. The chatter faded, themagnates shuffled round toface the floor, every facedrawn with tension. Apregnant silence settled overthe packed hall, and Gloktafelt a flurry of twitches slinkuptheleftsideofhisfaceand

sethiseyelidblinking.'I call thismeeting of the

OpenCounciloftheUniontoorder!' thundered theAnnouncer.Slowly, andwiththegrimmestoffrowns,LordHoff rose to face thecouncillors.

'My friends! Mycolleagues! My Lords ofMidderland, Angland, andStarikland, Aldermen of

Westport! Guslav the Fifth,our King… is dead. His twoheirs… are dead. One at thehands of our enemies in thenorth, the other, our enemiesin the south. Truly, this is atime of troubles, and we areleftwithoutaleader.'Heheldhisarmsupimploringlytothecouncillors. 'You are nowfaced with a graveresponsibility. The selection,

fromamongyournumber,ofa new High King of theUnion.AnymanwhoholdsachaironthisOpenCouncilisapotentialcandidate!Anyofyou… could be our nextKing.' A volley of near-hysterical whispers floateddownfromthepublicgallery,andHoffwasobligedtoraisehisvoicetoshoutoverthem.

'Suchavotehasonlybeen

takenoncebeforeinthelonghistory of our great nation!Afterthecivilwarandthefallof Morlic the Mad, whenArnault was raised to thethrone by near-unanimousaccord. He it was who siredthe great dynasty that lasteduntil a few short days ago.'Heletfallhisarmsandstaredsadlydownatthetiles. 'Wisewasthechoiceyourforebears

made that day.We can onlyhope that the man electedhere thismorning, by and infull view of his peers, willfoundadynastyjustasnoble,just as strong, just as even-handed, and just as long-lived!'

We can only hope forsomeonewhowill do as he'sdamnwelltold.

Ferro shoved a woman in along gown out of her way.She elbowed past a fat man,his jowls trembling withoutrage. She forced her waythrough to the balcony andglared down. The widechamberbelowwascrammedwith fur-trimmed old men,crowded together on highbanksof seating,eachwithasparkling chain round his

shoulders and a sparklingsheenofsweatacrosshispaleface.Oppositethem,behindacurvedtable,wereanothersetofmen,fewerinnumber.Shescowled as she saw Bayazsitting at one end of them,smiling as if he knew somesecret that no one else couldguess.

Justlikealways.Beside him stood a fat

pink with a face full ofbroken veins, shoutingsomething about each manvoting with his conscience.Ferro snorted. She wouldhavebeensurprisedifthefewhundredmendowntherehadfive whole consciencesbetweenthem.Itseemedasifthey were all attendingcarefully to the fat man'saddress, but Ferro saw

differently.The room was full of

signals.Men glanced sideways at

one another and gave subtlenods. They winked with oneeye or the other. Theytouched forefingers to nosesand ears. They scratched instrange ways. A web ofsecrets, spreading out toevery part of the chamber,

and with Bayaz sittinggrinning in the midst of it.Some way behind him, withhisbacktothewall,JezaldanLuthar was standing in auniformfestoonedwithshinythread. Ferro curled her lip.Shecouldseeitinthewayhestood.

Hehadlearnednothing.TheAnnouncerstabbedat

thefloorwithhisstickagain.

'Voting will now begin!'TherewasaraggedgroanandFerrosawthewomanshehadpushed past earlier slide tothe floor in a faint. Someonedraggedheraway, flappingapieceofpaperinherface,andthe ill-tempered press closedin tight behind. 'In the firstround the field will benarrowed to three choices!Therewillbeashowofhands

foreachcandidateinorderofthemost extensive lands andholdings!'

Down below on theirbenches, the richly dressedsweated and trembled likemenbeforeabattle.

'Firstly!' shrieked a clerk,voice cracking as heconsulted an enormousledger,'LordBrock!'

Up in the gallery peoplemoppedtheirfaces,mutteringand gasping as if they werefacingdeath.Perhapssomeofthem were. The whole placereeked of doubt, andexcitement, and terror. Sostrong it was contagious. Sostrong that even Ferro, whodid not care a shit for thepinks and their damn vote,felthermouthdry,herfingers

itching, her heart thumpingfast.

The Announcer turned toface the chamber. 'The firstcandidatewillbeLordBrock!All those members of theOpen Council who wish tovote for Lord Brock as thenextHighKingoftheUnion,willyoupleaseraiseyour—'

'Onemoment,myLords!'

Gloktajerkedhisheadround,but his neck-bones stuckhalfway and he had to peerfrom the corner of one dewyeye. He need hardly havebothered. I could haveguessed without looking whospoke. Bayaz had risen fromhis chair and was nowsmiling indulgently towardsthe Open Council. With

perfect timing. A volley ofoutraged calls rose up fromitsmembersinresponse.

'This is no time forinterruptions!'

'Lord Brock! I vote forBrock!'

'Anewdynasty!'Bayaz'smiledidnotslipa

hair'sbreadth.'Butwhatiftheold dynasty could continue?

Whatifwecouldmakeanewbeginning,' and he glancedsignificantly across the facesof his colleagues on theClosed Council, 'whilekeepingallthatisgoodinourpresent government?What ifthere was a way to healwounds, rather than to causethem?'

'How?'camethemockingcalls.

'Whatway?'Bayaz' smile grew

broader yet, 'Why, a royalbastard.'

There was a collectivegasp. Lord Brock bouncedfrom his seat.Quite as if hehad a spring under his arse.'This is an insult to thishouse! A scandal! A slur onthememoryofKingGuslav!'Indeed, he now seems not

onlyadroolingvegetable,buta lecherous one. Othercouncillors rose to join him,faces redwithoutrage,whitewith fury, shaking fists andmaking angry calls. Thewhole sweep of benchesseemedtohonkandgruntandwriggle.Just like thepigpensat the slaughterhouse,clamouring for any swill onoffer.

'Wait!' shrieked the ArchLector, his white-glovedhands raised in entreaty.Sensing some faint glimmerof hope in the darkness,perhaps? 'Wait, my Lords!Thereisnothingtobelostbylistening! We shall have thetruth here, even if it ispainful! The truth should beouronlyconcern!'Gloktahadtochomphisgumsdownona

splutter of laughter. Oh, ofcourse, your Eminence! Thetruthhaseverbeenyouronlycare!

But the babble graduallysubsided. Those councillorswho were on their feet wereshamed back into line.Theirhabit of obedience to theClosed Council is not easilybroken.Butthenhabitsneverare. Especially of obedience.

Only ask my mother's dogs.They grumbled their wayback into their seats, andallowedBayaztocontinue.

'Your Lordships haveperhapsheardofCarmeedanRoth?'Aswellofnoise fromthe gallery above confirmedthat the name was notunfamiliar. 'She was a greatfavouritewiththeKing,whenhewasyounger.Averygreat

favourite. So much so thatshe became pregnant with achild.' Another wave ofmuttering, louder. 'I havealways carried a sentimentalregard for the Union. I havealways had one eye on itswelfare, despite the scantthanksIhavereceivedfor it.'And Bayaz gave the verybriefestcurlofhisliptowardsthe members of the Closed

Council. 'So, when the ladydied in childbirth, I took theKing'sbastardintomycare.Iplaced him with a noblefamily, to bewell raised andwell educated, in case thenation should one day finditself without an heir. Myactions now seem prudentindeed.'

'Lies!' someone shrieked.'Lies!' But few voices joined

in.Theirtoneinsteadwasoneofcuriosity.

'Anaturalson?''Abastard?''CarmeedanRoth,didhe

say?'Theyhaveheard this tale

before. Rumours, perhaps,but familiar ones. Familiarenough to make them listen.Tomake them judgewhether

itwill be in their interests tobelieve.

But Lord Brock was notconvinced. 'A blatantfabrication! Itwill takemorethanrumourandconjecturetoswaythishouse!Producethisbastard, if you can, so-calledFirstoftheMagi!Workyourmagic!'

'No magic is needful,'sneered Bayaz. 'The King's

son is alreadywith us in thechamber.' Gasps ofconsternation from thegallery, sighs of amazementfrom thecouncillors, stunnedsilence from the ClosedCouncilandtheiraides,everyeye fixed onBayaz' pointingfinger as he swept out hishand towards the wall. 'Nootherman thanColonelJezaldanLuthar!'

The spasm began inGlokta's toeless foot, shot uphisruinedleg,sethis twistedspine shivering fromhis arseright to his skull, made hisface twitch like an angryjelly,madehisfewteethrattlein his empty gums, set hiseyelidflickeringfastasafly'swings.

TheechoesofBayaz' lastutterancewhisperedroundthe

suddenly silent hall. 'Luthar,Luthar,Luthar…'

You must be fuckingjoking.

The pale faces of thecouncillors were frozen,hanging in wide-eyed shock,squashed up in narrow-eyedrage. The pale men behindthe table gaped. The pale

peopleatthebalconypressedtheirhandsovertheirmouths.Jezal dan Luthar, who hadwept with self-pity whileFerro had stitched his face.Jezal dan Luthar, that leakypiss-pot of selfishness, andarrogance, and vanity. Jezaldan Luthar, who she hadcalled the princess of theUnion, had a chance ofendingthedayasitsKing.

Ferro could not helpherself.

She let her head dropback and she hacked, andcoughed, and gurgled withamusement. Tears sprung upin her eyes, her chest shookand her knees trembled. Sheclung to the rail of thebalcony, she gasped,blubbered,drooled.Ferrodidnot laugh often. She could

scarcely remember the lasttime.But JezaldanLuthar, aKing?

Thiswasfunny.

High above, in the publicgallery, someone had startedlaughing. A jagged cacklingcompletely inappropriate tothesolemnityofthemoment.But Jezal's first impulse,

when he realised that it washis name that Bayaz hadcalled out, when he realisedthat it was him theoutstretched finger waspointing to, was to join in.His second, as every face inthe entire vast space turnedinstantlytowardshim,wastovomit. The result was anungainly cough, a shame-faced grin, an unpleasant

burning at the very back ofthe mouth, and an instantpalingofthecomplexion.

'I…' he found himselfcroaking, but without theslightest idea of how hewould continue his sentence.What words could possiblyhelpatatimelikethis?Allhecould do was stand there,sweatingprofusely,tremblingunder his stiff uniform, as

Bayaz continued in ringingtones, his voice cutting overthe laughter bubbling downfromabove.

'I have the swornstatement of his adoptivefatherhere,attestingthatallIsayistrue,butdoesitmatter?Thetruthofitisplainforanymantosee!'Hisarmshotouttowards Jezal again. 'HewonaContest beforeyouall, and

accompaniedmeonajourneyfull of peril with never acomplaint! He charged thebridgeatDarmium,withoutathought for his own safety!He saved Adua from therevoltwithoutadropofbloodspilled! His valour and hisprowess, hiswisdom and hisselflessness are well knowntoall!Can itbedoubted thatthe blood of kings flows in

hisveins?'Jezal blinked. Odd facts

begantobobtothesurfaceofhissluggishmind.Hewasnotmuch like his brothers. Hisfatherhadalwaystreatedhimdifferently.Hehadgotallthelooks in the family. Hismouthwashangingopen,buthefoundhecouldnotcloseit.When his father had seenBayaz,at theContest,hehad

turned white as milk, asthoughherecognisedhim.

Hehaddone, andhewasnotJezal'sfatheratall.

When the king hadcongratulated Jezal on hisvictory,hehadmistakenhimfor his own son. Not suchblinding folly, evidently, aseveryonemighthavethought.The old fool had been closerto the mark than anyone.

Suddenly,itallmadehorriblesense.

He was a bastard.Literally.

Hewasthenaturalsonofaking.Whatwasmuchmore,he was slowly and withincreasingterrorbeginningtorealise, he was now beingseriously considered as hisreplacement.

'My Lords!' shoutedBayaz over the disbelievingchatter gaining steadily involume with every passingmoment. 'You sit amazed! Itis a difficult fact to accept, Ican understand. Especiallywith the suffocating heat inhere!' He signalled to theguards at both ends of thehall. 'Open the gates, please,andletushavesomeair!'

The doors were heavedopen and a gentle breezewashed into the Lords'Round.Acoolingbreeze,andsomething else with it. Hardtomakeoutat first,and thencoming more clearly.Something like the noise ofthe crowd at the Contest.Soft, repetitive, and morethanalittlefrightening.

'Luthar! Luthar! Luthar!'

The sound of his own name,chantedoverandoverfromamultitude of throats beyondthewallsof theAgriont,wasunmistakable.

Bayaz grinned. 'It wouldseem that the people of thecityhavealreadychosentheirfavouredcandidate.'

'This is not their choice!'roaredBrock,stillonhisfeetbut only now regaining his

composure.'Anymorethanitisyours!'

'Butitwouldbefoolishtoignore their opinion. Thesupport of the commonerscannot be lightly dismissed,especially in these restlesstimes. If they were to bedisappointed, in their currentmood, who knows whatmight occur? Riots in thestreets,orworse?Noneofus

wants that, surely, LordBrock?'

Severalof the councillorsshifted nervously on theirbenches,glancingtowardstheopen doors, whispering totheir neighbours, if theatmosphereintheRoundhadbeen confused before, it wasflabbergasted now. But theworry and surprise of theOpen Council was nothing

comparedtoJezal'sown.

A fascinating tale, but if hesupposes that the Union'sgreediest men will simplytake hisword for it and givethecrownawayhehasmadea staggering blunder,whether commoners wetthemselves at the name ofLutharornot.LordIsherrosefrom the front row for the

first time, stately andmagnificent,thejewelsonhischain of office flashing.Andso the furious objections, theoutraged denials, thedemands for punishmentbegin.

'Iwholeheartedlybelieve!'called Isher in ringing tones,'that the man known asColonel Jezal dan Luthar isnone other than the natural

childoftherecentlydeceasedKing Guslav the Fifth!'Glokta gawped. So, itseemed, did almost everyoneelseinthechamber.'Andthatheisfurtherfittedforruleonaccount of his exemplarycharacter and extensiveachievements,bothwithintheUnion and outside it!'Anotherpealofuglylaughtergurgled down from above,

butIsherignoredit.'Myvote,and the votes of mysupporters, arewholeheartedlyforLuthar!'

IfLuthar's eyes hadgoneany wider they might havedropped from his skull. Andwho can blame him? Nowone of the Westportdelegation was on his feet.'The Aldermen of Westportvote as oneman for Luthar!'

he sang out in his Styrianaccent. 'Natural son and heirtoKingGuslavtheFifth!'

A man jumped up a fewrows back. He glancedquickly and somewhatnervously at Glokta. Noneother than Lord Ingelstad.Thelyinglittleshit,what'sheabout? 'I am for Luthar!' heshrieked.

'And I, for Luthar!'

Wetterlant, his hooded eyesgivingawaynomoreemotionthantheyhadwhenhefedtheducks. Better offers, eh,gentlemen?Orbetterthreats?Glokta glanced at Bayaz.Hehad a faint smile on his faceas he watched others springfromtheirbenches todeclaretheirsupportfortheso-callednatural son of Guslav theFifth. Meanwhile, the

chantingofthecrowdsoutinthecitycouldstillbeheard.

'Luthar!Luthar!Luthar!'As the shock drained

away,Glokta'smindbegantoturn.So that iswhyourFirstof the Magi cheated in theContest on Luthar's behalf.That is why he has kept himclose, all this time. That iswhy he procured for him sonotableacommand.Ifhehad

presentedsomenobodyastheKing's son, he would havebeen laughed from thechamber. But Luthar, lovehimorhatehim,isoneofus.He is known, he is familiar,he is… acceptable. Gloktalooked at Bayaz withsomething close toadmiration. Pieces of apuzzle, patient years in thepreparation, calmly slotted

into place before ourdisbelieving eyes. And not athing thatwecando, except,perhaps, to dance along tohistune?

Sult leaned sideways inhis chair and hissed urgentlyin Glokta's ear. 'This boy,Luthar, what manner of amanishe?'

Glokta frowned over athim, standing dumbstruck by

the wall. He looked at thatmoment as if he couldscarcely be trusted to controlhis own bowels, let alone acountry.Still,youcouldhavesaid much the same for ourprevious King, and hedischarged his dutiesadmirably. His duties ofsittinganddrooling,whileweran the country for him.'Before his trip abroad, your

Eminence, he was as empty-headed, spineless and vain ayoungfoolasonemighthopeto find in the entire nation.The last timeIspoke tohim,though—'

'Perfect!''But,yourEminence,you

must see that this is allaccordingtoBayaz'plans—'

'Wewilldealwiththatold

foollater.Iamtakingadvice.'SultturnedtohissatMaroviawithout waiting for a reply.NowthetwooldmenlookedoutattheOpenCouncil,nowtheygavetheirnodsandtheirsignals to the men theycontrolled. All the while,Bayaz smiled. The way anengineer might smile as hisnew machine works for thefirsttime,preciselyaccording

to his design. The MaguscaughtGlokta'seye,andgavethe faintest of nods. Therewasnothing forGlokta todobut shrug, and give atoothless grin of his own. Iwonder if the timemaycomewhen we all wish we hadvotedforBrock.

Now Marovia wasspeaking hurriedly to Hoff.The Lord Chamberlain

frowned, nodded, turnedtowards the house andsignalled to the Announcer,who beat furiously on thefloorforsilence.

'My Lords of the OpenCouncil!' Hoff roared, oncesomething resembling quiethad been established. 'Thediscovery of a natural sonplainly changes thecomplexion of this debate!

Fate would appear to havegifted us the opportunity tocontinue the dynasty ofArnaultwithoutfurtherdoubtor conflict!' Fate gifts us? Irather think we have a lessdisinterested benefactor. 'Inview of these exceptionalcircumstances,andthestrongsupport already voiced bymembers of this house, theClosedCounciljudgesthatan

exceptional vote should nowbe taken. A single vote, onwhether the man previouslyknown as Jezal dan LutharshouldbedeclaredHighKingoftheUnionforthwith!'

'No!' roared Brock, veinsbulging from his neck. 'Istrongly protest!' But hemight as well have protestedagainst the incoming tide.The arms were already

shooting up in dauntingnumbers. The Aldermen ofWestport, the supporters ofLordIsher,thevotesthatSultandMarovia had bullied andbribed theirway.Glokta sawmanymore,now,menhehadthought undecided, or firmlydeclared for one man oranother. All lending theirsupport to Luthar with aspeed that strongly implies a

previousarrangement.Bayazsat back, arms folded, as hewatched the hands shootskywards. It was alreadybecoming terribly clear thatover half of the roomwas infavour.

'Yes!' hissed the ArchLector,asmileoftriumphonhisface.'Yes!'

Thosewhohadnotraisedtheirarms,mencommittedto

Brock,orBarezin,orHeugen,stared about them, stunnedand not a little horrified athow quickly the worldseemed to have passed themby. How quickly the chanceatpowerhasslippedthroughtheir fingers. And who canblame them? It has been asurprisingdayforusall.

LordBrockmadeonelasteffort,raisingafingertostab

at Luthar, still goggling bythe wall. 'What proof haveyou that he is the son ofanyone in particular, besidethewordofthisoldliar?'andhe gestured at Bayaz. 'Whatproof, my Lords? I demandproof!'

Angry mutterings sweptupanddownthebenches,butno one made themselvesconspicuous.Thesecondtime

Lord Brock has stood beforethis Council and demandedproof,andthesecondtimenoone has cared. What proofcould there be, after all? AbirthmarkonLuthar'sarseinthe shape of a crown?Proofis boring. Proof is tiresome.Proof is an irrelevance.People would far rather behanded an easy lie thansearch for a difficult truth,

especiallyifitsuitstheirownpurposes. And most of uswouldfarratherhaveaKingwith no friends and noenemies, than a King withplenty of both. Most of uswouldratherhavethingsstayas they are, than risk anuncertainfuture.

More hands were raised,and more. Luthar's supporthadrolledtoofarforanyone

mantostopit.Nowitislikeagreat boulder hurtling downa slope. They dare not standin its way in case they aresquashed to gravy. So theycrowd in behind, and addtheir own weight to it, andhope to snatch the scraps upafterward.

Brock turned, a deadlyfrownacrosshisface,andhestormed down the aisle and

outof thechamber.Probablyhehadhopedthatagoodpartof the Open Council wouldstorm out with him. But inthat,asinsomuchelsetoday,he must he harshlydisappointed.Nomorethanadozen of his most loyalfollowers accompanied himonthelonelymarchoutoftheLords' Round. The othershavebetter sense.Lord Isher

exchanged a long look withBayaz, then raised his palehand. Lords Barezin andHeugenwatchedthebestpartof their support flocking tothe cause of the youngpretender, glanced at eachother,retreatedbackintotheirseats and stayed carefullysilent. Skald opened hismouth to call out, lookedabout him, thought better of

it, and with evidentreluctance, slowly lifted hisarm.

There were no furtherprotests.

King Jezal the First wasraised to the throne by near-unanimousaccord.

TheTrap

«^»

Coming up into the HighPlaces again, and the air feltcrisp and clear, sharp andfamiliar in Logen's throat.

Theirmarchhadbegungentlyas they came up through thewoods, a rise you'd hardlynotice.Thenthetreesthinnedout and their path took themup a valley between grassyfells, cracked with tricklingstreams, patched with sedgeand gorse. Now the valleyhad narrowed to a gorge,hemmedinonbothsideswithslopes of bare rock and

crumbling scree, gettingalways steeper. Above them,on either side of that gorge,two great crags rose up.Beyond, the hazy hints ofmountain peaks—grey, andlight grey, and even lightergrey, melted in the distanceintotheheavygreysky.

The sun was out, andmeaningbusiness, and itwashot to walk in, bright to

squint into. They were allweary from climbing, andworrying,andlookingbehindthem for Bethod. FourhundredCarls,maybe,andasmany painted-face hillmen,all spreadout in agreat longcolumn, cursing and spitting,boots crunching and slidingin the dry dirt and the loosestones.Crummock's daughterwas struggling up ahead of

Logen,bentdoubleundertheweight of her father'shammer, hair round her facedarkwithsweat.Logen'sowndaughter would have beenolderthanthat,bynow.Ifshehadn't been killed by theShanka, along with hermotherandherbrothers.ThatthoughtgaveLogenahollow,guiltyfeeling.Abadone.

'You want a hand with

thatmallet,girl?''No I fucking don't!' she

screamed at him, thendropped it off her shoulderand dragged it away up theslopebythehandle,scowlingat him all the way, thehammer's head clatteringalongandleavingagrooveinthe stonysoil.Logenblinkedafter her. Seemed his touchwith thewomenwent all the

way down to ones ten yearsold.

Crummock came upbehind him, fingerbonesswinging round his neck.'Fierce,ah?Y'avetobefierce,to get on in my family!' Heleanedcloseandgaveawink.'And she's the fiercest of thelot, that little bitch. If I'mhonest, she's my favourite.'He shook his head as he

watched her dragging at thathammer. 'She'll make somepoor bastard one hell of awife one day.We're here, incaseyouwerewondering.'

'Eh?' Logen wiped sweatfromhisface,frowningashestaredabout.'Where'sthe—'

Then he realised.Crummock's fortress, if youcould call it that, was rightaheadofthem.

The valley was no morethan a hundred strides nowfrom one cliff to the other,andawallwasbuiltacrossit.An ancient and crumblingwall of rough blocks, so fullof cracks, so coated withcreeper, brambles, seedinggrass, that it seemed almostpart of the mountains. Itwasn't a whole lot steeperthan the valley itself, and as

tall as three men on eachother's shoulders at itshighest, sagging here andthereasifitwasabouttofalldown on its own. In thecentre was a gate ofweathered grey planks,splattered with lichen,managing to seem rotten anddried-outbothatonce.

To one side of the wallthere was a tower, built up

against the cliff. Or at leastthere was a great naturalpillar sticking out from therock with half-cut chunks ofstone mortared to the top,making a wide platform onthecliff-side,overlookingthewall fromhighabove.Logenlooked at the Dogman as hetrudged up, and the Dogmansquinted at thatwall as if hecouldn't believewhat hewas

seeing.'Thisisit?'growledDow,

coming up next to them, hislip curling. A few trees hadtaken root at one side, justunder the tower, must havebeen fifty years ago at least.Nowtheyloomedupoverthewall. A man could haveclimbed them easily, andstepped inside the placewithoutevenstretchingfar.

Tul stared up at theragged excuse for a fortress.'A strong place in themountains,yousaid.'

'Strong…ish.'Crummockwavedhis hand. 'Wehillmenhave never been much forbuilding and so on. Whatwere you expecting? Tenmarble towers and a hallbigger'nSkarling's?'

'I was expecting a

halfwaydecentwall,atleast,'growledDow.

'Bah!Walls? I heard youwerecoldassnowandhotaspiss, Black Dow, and nowyou want walls to hidebehind?'

'We'llbeoutnumberedtentooneifBethoddoesturnup,you mad fuck! You're damnright I want a wall, and youtoldusthere'dbeone!'

'But you said it yourselffriend.'Crummockspokesoftand slow as though he wasexplaining it to a child, andhe tapped at the side of hishead with one thick finger.'I'm mad! Mad as a sack ofowls,andeveryonesaysso!Ican't remember the names ofmyownchildren.Whoknowswhat I think a wall lookslike? Ihardlyknowwhat I'm

talkingofmyself,mostofthetime, and you're fool enoughto listen tome?Youmustbemadyourselves!'

Logen rubbed at thebridge of his nose and hegave a groan. The Dogman'sCarls were gathering nearthemnow, lookingup at thatmossy heap of stones andmuttering to each other, farfrom happy. Logen could

hardly blame them. It was along, hot walk they'd had tofind this at theendof it.Buttheyhadnochoices,asfarashecouldsee. 'It'sabitlatetobuild a better one,' hegrumbled. 'We'll have to dowhatwecanwithwhatwe'vegot.'

'That's it Bloody-Nine,you need no wall and youknow it!' Crummock clapped

Logen on the arm with hisgreat fat hand. 'You cannotdie! You're beloved of themoon, my fine new friend,above all others!You cannotdie, not with the moonlookingoveryou!Youcannot—'

'Shutup,'saidLogen.They crunched sourly

across the slope towards thegate. Crummock called out

and the old doors wobbledopen. A pair of suspicioushillmen stood on the otherside,watchingthemcomein.Theysloggedupasteeprampcutintotherock,alltiredandgrumbling,andcameoutintoa flat space above. A saddlebetweenthetwocrags,mighthave been a hundred strideswide and two hundred long,sheercliffsofstoneallround.

There were a few woodenshacks and sheds scatteredabout the edges, all greenwith old moss, a slumpingstone hall built against therock face with smoke risingout of a squat chimney. Justnext to it a narrow stair wascutintothecliff,climbingupto the platform at the top ofthetower.

'Nowhere to run to,'

Logen muttered, 'if thingsturnsour.'

Crummock only grinnedthewider. 'Coursenot.That'sthe whole point, ain't it?Bethod'll think he's got uslikebeetlesinabottle.'

'He will have,' growledtheDogman.

'Aye, but then yourfriends will come up behind

him and won't he get thefather of all shocks, though?It'llalmostbeworthitforthelook on his face, the shit-eatingbastard!'

Logen worked his mouthand spat onto the stonyground. 'I wonder what thelooks on our faces'll be bythen? All slack and corpse-like would be my guess.' Aherd of shaggy sheep were

pressed in tight together in apen, staring around wide-eyed, bleating to each other.Hemmedinandhelpless,andLogenknewexactlyhowtheyfelt. From inside the fort,wherethegroundwasagooddeal higher, therewashardlya wall at all. You could'vesteppeduponto itswalkway,if you'd got long legs, andstood at its crumbling,moss-

riddenexcuseforaparapet.'Don't you worry your

beautiful self about nothing,Bloody-Nine,' laughedCrummock. 'My fortresscouldbebetterbuilt,I'llgrantyou, but the ground is withus, and the mountains, andthemoon, all smiling on ourbold endeavour. This is astrong place, with a stronghistory.Doyounotknowthe

storyofLaffatheBrave?''Can't say that I do.'

Logen wasn't altogether surehewantedtohearitnow,buthe was in the long habit ofnotgettingwhathewanted.

'Laffa was a great banditchief of the hillmen, a longtime ago. He raided all theclans around for years, himand his brothers. One hotsummer the clans had

enough, so they bandedtogether and hunted him inthe mountains. Here's wherehemadehis last stand.Righthereinthisfortress.Laffaandhis brothers and all hispeople.'

'What happened?' askedDogman.

'They all got killed, andtheirheadscutoffandput ina sack, and the sack was

buried in thepit theyused toshit in.' Crummock beamed.'Guessthat'swhytheycallitalaststand,eh?'

'That's it? That's thestory?'

'That's all of it that Iknow, but I'm not right surewhatelsetherecouldbe.Thatwas pretty much the end forLaffa,I'dsay.'

'Thanks for theencouragement.'

'That's alright, that'salright! I've more stories, ifyouneedmore!'

'No, no, that's enough forme.'Logenturnedandstartedwalking off, the Dogmanbeside him. 'You can tellmemoreoncewe'vewon!'

'Ha ha, Bloody-Nine!'

shoutedCrummockafterhim,'that'llbeastoryinitself,eh?You can't fool me! You'relike I am, beloved of themoon!Wefighthardestwhenour backs are to themountainsandthere'snowayout! Tell me it ain't so! Welove it when we got nochoices!'

'Oh aye,' Logenmutteredto himself as he stalked off

towards the gate. 'There'snothing better than nochoices.'

Dogman stood at the foot o'thewall, staringupat it, andwonderingwhattodotogivehim and the rest a betterchanceatlivingouttheweek.

'It'dbeagoodthingtogetall this creeper and grass

clearedoffit,'hesaid.'Makesit a damn sight easier toclimb.'

Tul raised an eyebrow.'Yousureitain'tallthatplantthat'sholdingittogether?'

Grimtuggedatavineanda shower of dried-outmortarcamewithit.

'Might be you're right.'Dogmansighed.'Cutoffwhat

wecan,then,eh?Someworkatthetopwouldbetimewellspentandall.Benicetohavea decent stack o' stones tohide behind when Bethodstartsshootingarrowsatus.'

'That it would,' said Tul.'Andwecoulddigus aditchdown here in front, plantsome stakes round thebottom, make it harder for'eratogetupclose.'

'Thenclose thatgate,nailit shut, and wedge a load ofrocksinbehindit.'

'We'llhavetroublegettingout,'saidTul.

Logensnorted.'Usgettingout won't be the pressingproblem,I'mthinking.'

'You've a point rightthere,' laughed Crummock,amblingupwith a lit pipe in

hisfatfist. 'It'sBethod'sboysgetting in that we shouldworryon.'

'Getting these wallspatched up would be a goodstart at settling my mind.'Dogman pointed at the treesgrown up over thewall. 'Weneed to get these cut downandcutup,carveusoutsomestone, mix us some mortarand all the rest. Crummock,

you got people can do that?Yougottools?'

He puffed at his pipe,frowning at Dogman all thelongwhile, then blew brownsmoke. 'I might have, but Iwon't take my orders fromsuch as you, Dogman. Themoon knowsmy talents, andthey're for murder, notmortaring.' Grim rolled hiseyes.

'Whowillyoutakeordersfrom?'askedLogen.

'I'll take 'em from you,Bloody-Nine, and from noother! The moon loves you,and I love the moon, andyou'rethemanfor—'

'Then get your peopletogether and get to fuckingcutting wood and stone. I'mboredo'yourblather.'

Crummock knocked outhis ashes sourly against thewall. 'You're no fun at all,youboys,youdonothingbutworry.You need to think onthe sunny side o' this. Theworst that can happen is thatBethoddon'tshow!'

'The worst?' Dogmanstared at him. 'You sure?What about if Bethod doescome,andhisCarlskickyour

wall over like a pile o' turdsandkilleverylastoneofus?'

Crummock's browfurrowed. He frowned downattheground.Hesquintedupat the clouds. 'True,' he said,breakingoutinasmile. 'Thatisworse.Yougotafastmind,lad.'

Dogmangavealongsigh,and stared down into thevalley. The wall might not

have been all they'd hopedfor, but you couldn't knockthe position. Coming up thatsteep slope against a set ofhard men, high above andwith nothing to lose, readyand more'n able to kill you.Thatwasnoone'sideao'fun.

'Tough to get organiseddown there,' said Logen,speaking Dog-man's ownthoughts. 'Specially with

arrowsplungingonyoufromabove and nothing to hidebehind. Hard to makenumbers count. I wouldn'tmuch fancy trying it myself.Howarewegoingtoworkit,iftheycome?'

'Ireckonwe'llmakethreecrews.' Dogman nodded tothe tower. 'Me up there withfive score or so o' the bestarchers. Good spot to shoot

from,that.Niceandhigh,andagoodviewofthefronto'thewall.'

'Uh,'saidGrim.'Maybe some strong lads

tothrowarockortwo.''I'lllobarock,'saidTul.'Fair enough. Then the

pick of our lads up on thewall, ready to take 'em onhand to hand, if they get up

there. That'll be your crew, Ireckon, Logen. Dow andShivers and Red Hat can beyourseconds.'

Logen nodded, notlooking all that happy. 'Aye,alright.'

'Then Crummock upbehind with his hillmen,ready to charge if theymakeit throughthegate.Ifwelastmore'naday,maybeyoucan

swap over. Hillmen on thewall, Logen and the restbehind.'

'That'squitetheplanforalittle man!' Crummockclapped him on the shoulderwith a huge hand and damnnearknockedhimonhisface.'Like as not you had it fromthe moon while you slept!Ain't one thing in it I'dchange!' He slapped his

meaty fist into his palm. 'Ilove a good charge! I hopethe Southerners don't come,andleavemorefortherestofus!Iwanttochargenow!'

'Good for you,' gruntedDogman.'Maybewecanfindyou a cliff to chargeoff.'Hesquinted into the sun, takinganother look up at the wallthat held all of their hopes.Hewouldn'thavecaredtotry

and climb it, not from thisside,but itwasn'thalfwayashigh,orasthick,orasstrongashe'dhave liked.Youdon'talwaysgetthingsthewayyoulike, Threetrees would havesaid. But just once would'vebeennice.

'The trap is ready,' saidCrummock, grinning downintothevalley.

The Dogman nodded.

'The only question is who'llget caught in it. Bethod? Orus?'

Logen walked through thenight, between the fires.Some fires had Carls roundthem, drinking Crummock'sbeer, and smoking hischagga, and laughing atstories. Others had hillmen,looking like wolves in the

shiftinglightwiththeirroughfurs, their tangled hair, theirhalf-painted faces. One wassinging, somewhere. Strangesongsinastrangetonguethatyapped and warbled like theanimalsintheforest,roseandfell like the valleys and thepeaks. Logen had to admithe'd been smoking, for thefirst time in a while, anddrinking too. Everything felt

warm.Thefires,andthemen,and the cool wind, even. Hewove his way through thedark, looking for the firewhere the Dogman and therest were sitting, and nothaving a clue which way tofind it. He was lost, and inmorewaysthanone.

'How many men youkilled, Da?' Had to beCrummock's daughter. There

weren't toomanyhighvoicesround that camp, more wasthe pity. Logen saw thehillman's great shape in thedarkness, his three childrensittingnearhim, theiroutsizeweapons propped up in easyreach.

'Oh,I'vekilledalegionof'em,Isern.'Crummock'sgreatdeep voice rumbled out atLogen as he came closer.

'More'n I can remember.Your father might not haveall his wits all the time, buthe's a bad enemy to have.One of the worst. You'll seethe truth of that close up,when Bethod and his arse-lickers come calling.' Helooked up and saw Logencoming through the night. 'Iswear, and I don't doubtBethodwouldswearwithme,

there'sonlyonebastardinallthe North who's nastier, andbloodier, and harder thanyourfather.'

'Who's that?' asked theboy with the shield. Logenfelt his heart sinking asCrummock's arm lifted up topointtowardshim.

'Why, that's him there.TheBloody-Nine.'

The girl glared at Logen.'He'snothing.Youcouldhavehim,Da!'

'By the dead, not me!Don'tevensayitgirl, incaseI make a piss-puddle bigenoughtodrownyouin.'

'Hedon'tlooklikemuch.''And there's a lesson for

all three of you.Not lookingmuch, not saying much, not

seeming much, that's a goodfirst step in beingdangerous,eh, Ninefingers? Then whenyou let the devil go free it'stwice the shock forwhateverpoorbastard'sontheendofit.Shock and surprise,my littlebeauties, and quickness tostrike,andlackofpity.Theseare the things that make akiller.Size,andstrength,andabigloudvoicearealrightin

their place, but they'renothing to that murderous,monstrous, merciless speed,eh,Bloody-Nine?'

It was a hard lesson forchildren, but Logen's fatherhad taught it to him young,and he'd kept it in mind allthese years. 'It's a sorry fact.He who strikes first oftenstrikeslast.'

'That he does!' shouted

Crummock,slappinghisgreatthigh. 'Well said! But it's ahappy fact, not a sorry one.You remember old Wilum,don'tyou,mychildren?'

'Thunder got him!'shouted the boy with theshield, 'in a storm, up in theHighPlaces!'

'That itdid!Onemomenthe's standing there, the nextthere's a noise like theworld

falling and a flash like thesun,andWilum'sdeadasmyboots!'

'His feet was on fire!'laughedthegirl.

'That they were, Isern.You saw how fast he died,how much the shock, howlittle the mercy that thelightning showed, well.' AndCrummock's eyes slid acrosstoLogen. 'That'swhat it'dbe

to cross that man there. Onemoment you'd say your hardword, the next?' He clappedhis hands together with acrack and made the threechildrenjump.'He'dsendyouback to themud. Faster thanthe sky killed Wilum, andwithnomoreregret.Yourlifehangs on a thread, everymomentyoustandwithintwostrides of that nothing-

lookingbastard there, does itnot,Bloody-Nine?'

'Well…' Logen wasn'tmuchenjoyingthis.

'How many men youkilled then?' the girl shoutedathim,stickingherchinout.

Crummock laughed andrubbed his hand in her hair.'The numbers aren't made tocount that high, Isern! He's

the king of killers! No manmade more deadly, notanywhereunderthemoon.'

'What about that Feared?'askedtheboywiththespear.

'Ohhhhhh,' cooedCrummock, smiling rightacross his face. 'He's not aman, Scofen.He's somethingelse.ButIwonder.FenristheFeared and theBloody-Nine,setting to kill one another?'

Herubbedhishandstogether.'Now that is a thing Iwouldliketosee.Thatisathingthemoon would love to shineupon.' His eyes rolled uptowards the sky and Logenfollowed themwith his own.The moon was up there,sitting in the black heavens,big and white, glowing likenewfire.

HorribleOldMen

«^»

Thetallwindowsstoodopen,allowingamercifulbreezeto

wash through thewidesalon,togivetheoccasionalcoolingkiss to Jezal's sweating face,to make the vast, antiquehangings flap and rustle.Everything in the chamberwas outsized—the cavernousdoorwayswerethreetimesashigh as a man, and theceiling, painted with thepeoples of the world bowingdown before an enormous

goldensun,wastwiceashighagain.Theimmensecanvasesonthewallsfeaturedlife-sizefigures in assorted majesticposes, whose warlikeexpressionswould give Jezaluncomfortable shockswheneverheturnedaround.

It seemed a space forgreatmen, forwisemen, forepic heroes or mightyvillains. A space for giants.

Jezal felt a tiny, meagre,stupidfoolinit.

'Your arm, if it pleaseyourMajesty,'murmuredoneof the tailors, managing togive Jezal orders whileremaining crushinglysycophantic.

'Yes, of course… I'msorry.' Jezal raised his arm alittlehigher,inwardlycursingat having apologised yet

again.Hewasakingnow,asBayaz was constantly tellinghim. Ifhehadshovedoneofthetailorsoutofthewindow,no apologywould have beennecessary. The man wouldprobably have thanked himprofusely for the attention ashe plummeted to the ground.As it was he merely gave awooden smile, and smoothlyunravelled his measuring

tape. His colleague wascrawling below, doingsomething similar aroundJezal's knees. The third waspunctiliously recording theirobservations in a marbledledger.

Jezal took a long breath,and frowned into the mirror.An uncertain-seeming youngidiot with a scar on his chingazed back at him from the

glass, draped with swatchesof glittering cloth as thoughhewereatailor'sdummy.Helooked, and certainly felt,more like a clown than aking. He looked a joke, andundoubtedly would havelaughed, had he not himselfbeen the ridiculous punch-line.

'Perhaps something afterthe Osprian fashion, then?'

The Royal Jeweller placedanother wooden nonsensecarefully on Jezal's head andexamined the results. It wasfar from an improvement.The damn thing looked likenothing so much as aninvertedchandelier.

'No, no!' snapped Bayaz,with some irritation. 'Far toofancy, far too clever, far toobig.Hewill scarcely be able

tostandinthedamnthing!Itneeds to be simple, to behonest,tobelight.Somethingamancouldfightin!'

The Royal Jewellerblinked. 'He will be fightinginthecrown?'

'No, dolt! But he mustlook as if he might!' Bayazcame up behind Jezal,snatched the woodencontraptionfromhisheadand

tossed it rattling on thepolishedfloor.ThenheseizedJezal by the arms and staredgrimly at his reflection fromover his shoulder. 'This is awarrior king in the finesttradition! The natural heir tothe Kingdom of Harod theGreat!Apeerlessswordsman,who has dealt wounds andreceived them, who has ledarmies to victory, who has

killedmenbythescore!''Score?' murmured Jezal,

uncertainly.Bayaz ignored him. 'A

man as comfortable withsaddle and sword as withthroneandsceptre!Hiscrownmustgowitharmour.Itmustgowithweapons. Itmust gowith steel. Now do youunderstand?'

The Jeweller noddedslowly. 'I believe so, myLord.'

'Good. And one morething.'

'MyLordhasbuttonameit.'

'Give it a big-arseddiamond.'

The Jeweller humblyinclined his head. 'That goes

withoutsaying.''Nowout.Out,allofyou!

His Majesty has affairs ofstatetoattendto.'

The ledger was snappedshut,thetapeswererolledupinamoment,theswatchesofcloth were whisked away.The tailors and the RoyalJeweller bowed their waybackwards from the roomwith a range of servile

mutterings, whisking thehuge, gilt-encrusted doorssilentlyshut.Jezalhadtostophimself from leaving withthem.Hekept forgetting thathewasnowhisMajesty.

'I have business?' heasked, turning from themirror and trying his best tosoundoffhandandmasterful.

Bayaz ushered him outintothegreathallwayoutside,

its walls covered inbeautifully rendered maps ofthe Union. 'You havebusiness with your ClosedCouncil.'

Jezal swallowed. Thevery name of the institutionwas daunting. Standing inmarble chambers, beingmeasured for new clothes,beingcalledyourMajesty,allof this was bemusing, but

hardly required a great efforton his part. Now he wasexpected to sit at the veryheart of government. Jezaldan Luthar, once widelycelebrated for his toweringignorance,wouldbesharingaroom with the twelve mostpowerful men in the Union.He would be expected tomake decisions that wouldaffect the lives of thousands.

Toholdhisowninthearenasof politics, and law, anddiplomacy, when his onlyareas of true expertise werefencing, drink, and women,andhewasforcedtoconcedethat, in that last areaat least,he did not seem to be quitethe expert he had oncereckonedhimself.

'TheClosedCouncil?'Hisvoice shot up to a register

moregirlish thankingly, andhe was forced to clear histhroat. 'Is there someparticular matter ofimportance?'hegrowledinanunconvincingbass.

'Some momentous newsarrivedfromtheNorthearliertoday.'

'Itdid?''I am afraid that Lord

Marshal Burr is dead. Thearmy needs a newcommander. Argument onthat issue will probably takeup a good few hours. Downhere,yourMajesty.'

'Hours?' muttered Jezal,his boot-heels clicking downa set of wide marble steps.Hours in the companyof theClosed Council. He rubbedhishandsnervouslytogether.

Bayaz seemed to guesshis thoughts. 'There is noneedforyoutofearthoseoldwolves.Youaretheirmaster,whatever they may havecome tobelieve.Atany timeyoucanreplacethem,orhavethem dragged away in irons,for that matter, should youdesire. Perhaps they haveforgotten it. It might be thatwewillneedtoremindthem,

induecourse.'They stepped through a

tall gateway flanked byKnights of the Body, theirhelmets clasped under theirarms but their faces kept socarefullyblank theymightaswell have had their visorsdown. A wide garden laybeyond, lined on all foursides by a shady colonnade,its white marble pillars

carved in the likenesses oftrees in leaf. Water splashedfrom fountains, sparkling inthe bright sunlight.Apair ofhuge orange birds with legsas thin as twigs strutted self-importantly about a perfectlyclipped lawn. They staredhaughtily at Jezal down theircurved beaks as he passedthem, evidently in no moredoubtthanhimthathewasan

utterimpostor.He gazed at the bright

flowers, and the shimmeringgreenery,andthefinestatues.He stared up at the ancientwalls,coatedwithred,white,and green creeper. Could itreallybethatallthisbelongedto him? All this, and thewhole Agriont besides? Washewalkingnowinthemightyfootstepsof thekingsofold?

Of Harod, and Casamir, andArnault?Itboggledthemind.Jezal had to blink and shakehishead,ashehadahundredtimesalreadythatday,simplyto prevent himself fromfalling over. Was he not thesamemanashehadbeenlastweek? He rubbed at hisbeard,as if tocheck,andfeltthescarbeneathit.Thesamemanwhohadbeensoakedout

on the wide plain, who hadbeen wounded among thestones, who had eaten half-cooked horsemeat and beengladtogetit?

Jezal clearedhis throat. 'Iwould like very much… Idon't knowwhether it wouldbepossible…tospeak tomyfather?'

'Yourfatherisdead.'

Jezal cursed silently tohimself. 'Of course he is, Imeant… the man I thoughtwasmyfather.'

'What is it that yousuppose he would tell you?That hemade bad decisions?That he had debts? That hetookmoneyfrommeinreturnforraisingyou?'

'He took money?'muttered Jezal, feeling more

forlornthanever.'Families rarely take in

orphans out of good will,even those with a winningmanner. The debts werecleared, and more thancleared.Ileftinstructionsthatyou should have fencinglessons as soon as you couldholda steel.Thatyoushouldhave a commission in theKing's Own, and be

encouragedtotakepartinthesummer Contest. That youshould be well prepared, incase this day should come.He carried out myinstructions to the letter. Butyou can see that a meetingbetween the two of youwould be an extremelyawkward scene for youboth.Onebestavoided.'

Jezal gave a ragged sigh.

'Ofcourse.Bestavoided.'Anunpleasant thought creptacross his mind. 'Is… is mynameevenJezal?'

'It is now that you havebeen crowned.' Bayaz raisedaneyebrow.'Why,wouldyoupreferanother?'

'No. No, of course not.'He turnedhisheadawayandblinked back the tears. Hisold life had been a lie. His

new one felt still more so.Even his own name was aninvention. They walked insilence through the gardensfor a moment, their feetcrunching in the gravel, sofresh and perfect that Jezalwondered if everystoneof itwasdailycleanedbyhand.

'Lord Isher will makemany representations to yourMajesty over the coming

weeksandmonths.''He will?' Jezal coughed,

and sniffed, and put on hisbravestface.'Why?'

'I promised him that histwo brothers would be madeLords Chamberlain andChancellor on the ClosedCouncil. That his familywould be preferred above allothers. Thatwas the price ofhissupportinthevote.'

'I see. Then I shouldhonourthebargain?'

'Absolutelynot.'Jezal frowned. 'I am not

surethatI—''Upon achieving power,

one should immediatelydistance oneself from allallies. They will feel theyown your victory, and norewards will ever satisfy

them. You should elevateyour enemies instead. Theywill gush over small tokens,knowing theydonot deservethem. Heugen, Barezin,Skald, Meed, these are themen you should bring intoyourcircle.'

'NotBrock?''Never Brock. He came

too close to wearing thecrown to ever feel himself

beneath it.Sooneror laterhemust be kicked back into hisplace. But not until you aresafe in your position, andhaveplentifulsupport.'

'Isee,'Jezalpuffedouthischeeks. Evidently there wasmore to being king than fineclothes, a haughty manner,and always getting thebiggestchair.

'This way.' Out of the

garden and into a shadowyhallway panelled with blackwoodandlinedwithanarrayofantiquearmstobogglethemind. Assorted suits of fullarmour stood to glitteringattention: plate and chain-mail,hauberkandcuirass,allstamped and emblazonedwith the golden sun of theUnion. Ceremonialgreatswords as tall as aman,

and halberds considerablytaller,wereboltedtothewallin an elaborate procession.Underthemweremountedanarmy'sworthof axes,maces,morningstars and bladescurvedandstraight, longandshort, thick and thin.WeaponsforgedintheUnion,weapons captured from theGurkish,weaponsstolenfromStyrian dead on bloody

battlefields. Victories anddefeats, commemorated insteel.Highabove,theflagsofforgotten regiments,gloriously slaughtered to aman in thewarsof longago,hung tattered and lifelessfromcharredpikestaffs.

A heavy double doorloomed at the far end of thiscollection, black andunadorned, as inviting as a

scaffold. Knights Heraldstood on either side of it,solemn as executioners,winged helmets glittering.Men taxed not only withguarding the centre ofgovernment, but withcarrying theKing'sOrders towhatevercorneroftheUnionwas necessary. His orders,Jezal realised with a suddenfurtherlurchofnerves.

'His Majesty seeksaudience with the ClosedCouncil,' intonedBayaz. Thetwo men reached out andpulled the heavy doors open.An angry voice surged outinto thecorridor. 'Theremustbe further concessions orthere will only be furtherunrest!Wecannotsimply—'

'HighJustice,Ibelievewehaveavisitor.'

The White Chamber wassomething of adisappointment after themagnificence of the rest ofthe palace. It was not thatlarge. There was nodecorationon theplainwhitewalls. The windows werenarrow, almost cell-like,making the place seemgloomyeven in thesunshine.Therewasnodraftandtheair

was uncomfortably close andstale. The only furniturewasa long table of dark wood,piled high with papers, andsixplain,hardchairsarrangeddowneithersidewithanotherat the foot and one more,noticeably higher than theothers, at the head. Jezal'sownchair,hesupposed.

The Closed Council roseas he ducked reluctantly into

the room. As frightening aselectionofoldmenascouldever have been collected inone place, and everyman ofthem staring right at Jezal inexpectantsilence.He jumpedas the door was heaved shutbehind him, the latchdropping with an unnervingfinality.

'YourMajesty,' and LordChamberlain Hoff bowed

deep, 'may I and mycolleagues first congratulateyou on your well-deservedelevation to the throne. Weallfeelthatwehaveinyouaworthy replacement forKingGuslav, and look forward toadvising you, and carryingout your orders, over thecomingmonthsandyears.'Hebowed again, and thecollection of formidable old

men clapped their hands inpoliteapplause.

'Why, thankyouall,' saidJezal, pleasantly surprised,however little he might feellikeaworthyreplacementforanything. Perhaps thiswouldnot be so painful as he hadfeared. The old wolvesseemedtameenoughtohim.

'Pleaseallowme tomakethe introductions,' murmured

Hoff. 'ArchLectorSult,headofyourInquisition.'

'Anhonourtoserve,yourMajesty.'

'High Justice Marovia,chiefLawLord.'

'Likewise, your Majesty,anhonour.'

'With Lord MarshalVaruz, I believe you arealreadywellacquainted.'

The old soldier beamed.'Itwasaprivilegetotrainyouinthepast,yourMajesty,andwill be a privilege to adviseyounow.'

So they went on, Jezalsmiling and nodding to eachman in turn. Halleck, theLordChancellor.Torlichorm,the High Consul. Reutzer,Lord Admiral of the Fleet,andsoon,andsoon.Finally

Hoffusheredhimto thehighchair at theheadof the tableand Jezal enthroned himselfwhile the Closed Councilsmiled on. He grinnedgormlessly up at them for amoment, and then realised.'Oh,pleasebeseated.'

Theoldmensat,acoupleof them with evident wincesofpainasoldkneescrunchedandoldbacksclicked.Bayaz

dropped carelessly into thechair at the foot of the table,opposite Jezal, as though hehadbeenoccupying it all hislife. Robes rustled as oldarses shifted on polishedwood,andgraduallytheroomwent silent as a tomb. Onechair was empty at Varuz'elbow.ThechairwhereLordMarshalBurrwouldhavesat,had he not been assigned to

dutyintheNorth.Hadhenotbeendead.Adozendauntingold men waited politely forJezal to speak. A dozen oldmen who he had thought ofuntil recently as occupyingthe pinnacle of power, allnow answerable to him. Asituationhecouldneverhaveimagined in his most self-indulgent daydreams. Heclearedhisthroat.

'Praycontinue,myLords.Iwill tryandcatchupaswego.'

Hoff flashed a humblesmile. 'Of course, yourMajesty. If at any time yourequireexplanation,youhavebuttoask.'

'Thank you,' said Jezal,'thank—'

Halleck's grinding voice

cut over him. 'Back to theissueofdisciplineamong thepeasantry,therefore.'

'We have alreadyprepared concessions!'snapped Sult. 'Concessionswhich the peasants werehappytoaccept.'

'A shred of bandage tobind a suppurating wound!'returnedMarovia.'Itisonlyamatter of time before

rebellion comes again. Theonly way we can avoid it isby giving the common manwhatheneeds.Nomorethanis fair!Wemust involvehimintheprocessofgovernment.'

'Involve him!' sneeredSult.

'We must transfer theburden of tax to thelandowners!'

Halleck's eyes rolled totheceiling.'Notthisnonsenseagain.'

'Our current system hasstood for centuries,' barkedSult.

'It has failed forcenturies!' threw backMarovia.

Jezal cleared his throatand theheadsof theoldmen

snappedroundtolookathim.'Could each man not simplybe taxed the sameproportionof his income, regardless ofwhether he is a peasant or anobleman… and then,perhaps…' He trailed off. Ithad seemed a simple enoughidea to him, but now alleleven bureaucrats werestaringathim,shocked,quiteas ifadomesticpethadbeen

ill-advisedly allowed into theroom, and it had suddenlydecided to speak up on thesubjectoftaxation.Atthefarend of the table, Bayazsilently examined hisfingernails. There was nohelpthere.

'Ah, your Majesty,'ventured Torlichorm insoothingtones,'suchasystemwould be almost impossible

toadminister.'Andheblinkedin a manner that said, 'Howdo you manage to dressyourself, given yourincredibleignorance?'

Jezalflushedtothelipsofhisears.'Isee.'

'The subject of taxation,'droned Halleck, 'is astupendously complex one.'AndhegaveJezalalookthatsaid, 'It is far too complex a

subject to fit insideyour tinyfragmentofamind.'

'It would perhaps bebetter, your Majesty, if youwere to leave the tediousdetails to your humbleservants.' Marovia had anunderstandingsmilethatsaid,'Itwouldperhapsbebetter ifyoukeptyourmouthshutandavoided embarrassing thegrown-ups.'

'Ofcourse.'Jezalretreatedshame-facedly into his chair.'Ofcourse.'

Andso itwenton,as themorning ground by, as thestrips of light from thewindows slunk slowly overtheheapsofpapersacrossthewide table. Gradually, Jezalbegantoworkouttherulesofthisgame.Horriblycomplex,and yet horribly simple. The

aging players were splitroughlyintotwoteams.ArchLector Sult and High JusticeMarovia were the captains,fighting viciously over everysubject,nomatterhowsmall,each with three supporterswho agreed with their everyutterance. Lord Hoff,meanwhile, ineffectuallyassisted by Lord MarshalVaruz, played the role of

referee,andstruggledtobuildbridges across theunbridgeable divide betweenthesetwoentrenchedcamps.

Jezal's mistake had notbeen to think that he wouldnotknowwhattosay,thoughof course, he did not. Hismistakehadbeentothinkthatanyone would want him tosay anything. All they caredabout was continuing their

own profitless struggles.They had become used,perhaps, to conducting theaffairsofstatewithadroolinghalfwit at the head of thetable. Jezal now realised thatthey saw in him a like-for-like trade. He began towonderiftheywereright.

'If your Majesty couldsign here… and here… andhere…andthere…'

Thepenscratchedagainstpaper after paper, the oldvoices droned on, and heldforth, and bickered one withthe other. The grey mensmiled,andsighed,andshooktheir heads indulgentlywheneverhespoke,andsohespoke less and less. Theybullied him with praise andblindedhimwithexplanation.They bound him up in

meaningless hours of law,and form, and tradition. Hesagged slowly lower andlower into his uncomfortablechair. A servant broughtwine, and he drank, andbecamedrunk,andbored,andeven more drunk and bored.Minute by stretched-outminute,Jezalbegantorealise:there was nothing soindescribably dull, once you

gotdowntothenutsandboltsofit,asultimatepower.

'Now to a sad matter,'observedHoff,oncethemostrecentargumenthadsputteredto a reluctant compromise.'Ourcolleague,LordMarshalBurr, isdead.Hisbody isonits way back to us from theNorth, and will be interredwith full honours. In themeantime, however, it is our

duty to recommend areplacement.Thefirstchairtobe filled in this room sincethe death of the esteemedChancellor Feekt. LordMarshalVaruz?'

The old soldier clearedhis throat,wincing as thoughhe realised he was about toopen a floodgate that mightvery well drown them all.'There are two clear

contenders for thepost.Botharemenofundoubtedbraveryandexperience,whosemeritsare well known to thiscouncil. I have no doubt thateither General Poulder orGeneralKroywould—'

'There can be not theslightestdoubtthatPoulderisthe betterman!' snarled Sult,and Halleck immediatelyvoicedhisassent.

'On the contrary!' hissedMarovia, to angry murmursfrom his camp, 'Kroy istransparently the betterchoice!'

Itwasanareainwhich,asan officer of someexperience, Jezal felt hemight have been of someminuscule value, but not oneoftheClosedCouncilseemedeven to consider seeking his

opinion. He sagged backsulkily into his chair, andtook another slurp of winefromhisgobletwhile theoldwolves continued to snapviciouslyatoneanother.

'Perhaps we shoulddiscuss this matter at greaterlengthlater!'cutinLordHoffover the increasinglyacrimonious debate. 'HisMajesty is growing fatigued

with the fine points of theissue, and there is noparticular urgency to thematter!' Sult and Maroviaglared at each other, but didnotspeak.Hoffgaveasighofrelief. 'Very well. Our nextpoint of business relates tothe supply of our army inAngland. Colonel Westwritesinhisdispatches—'

'West?' Jezal sat up

sharply,hisvoice roughwithwine. The name was likesmelling salts to a faintinggirl, a solid and dependablerock to cling to in the midstofallthischaos.IfonlyWesthad been there now, to helphim through, things wouldhave made so much moresense… he blinked at thechairthatBurrhadleftbehindhim, sitting empty at Varuz'

shoulder. Jezal was drunk,perhaps,buthewasking.Hecleared his wet throat.'Colonel West shall be mynewLordMarshal!'

There was a stunnedsilence. The twelve old menstared. Then Torlichormchuckled indulgently, in amanner that said, 'How willweshuthimup?'

'Your Majesty, Colonel

West is known to youpersonally, and a braveman,ofcourse…'

The entire Council, itseemed,hadfinallyfoundoneissueonwhichtheycouldallagree. 'First through thebreachatUlriochand soon,'muttered Varuz, shaking hishead,'butreally—'

'… he is junior, andinexperienced,and…'

'He is a commoner,' saidHoff,eyebrowsraised.

'An unseemly break withtradition,'lamentedHalleck.

'Poulder would be farsuperior!' snarled Sult atMarovia.

'Kroy is the man!'Maroviabarkedback.

Torlichormgaveasyrupysmile,ofthekindawet-nurse

might use while trying tocalm a troublesome infant.'Soyousee,yourMajesty,wecannot possibly considerColonelWestas—'

Jezal's empty gobletbounced off Torlichorm'sbald forehead with a loudcrackandclatteredawayintothe corner of the room. Theoldmangaveawailofshockand pain and slid from his

chair, blood running from alonggashacrosshisface.

'Cannot?' screamed Jezal,onhisfeet,eyesstartingfromhis head. 'You dare to givemefucking"cannot",youoldbastard? You belong to me,allofyou!'Hisfingerstabbedfuriouslyattheair.'Youexisttoadviseme,nottodictatetome! I rule here! Me!' Hesnatcheduptheinkbottleand

hurled it across the room. Itburst apart against the wall,spraying a great black stainacross the plaster andspattering the arm of ArchLector Sult's perfect whitecoat with black spots. 'Me!Me! The tradition we needhere is one of fuckingobedience!' He grabbed asheafofdocumentsandflungthem at Marovia, filling the

air with fluttering paper.'Never again give me"cannot!"Never!'

Elevensetsofdumbstruckeyes stared at Jezal. One setsmiled,downat theveryendof the table. That made himangrier than ever. 'CollemWest shall be my new LordMarshal!' he screeched, andkicked his chair over in afury. 'At our next meeting I

willbetreatedwiththeproperrespect, or I'll have the packof you in chains! In fuckingchains… and… and…' Hisheadwashurting,now,ratherbadly. He had throwneverythingwithineasyreach,and was becomingdesperately unsure of how toproceed.

Bayaz rose sternly fromhischair.'MyLords,thatwill

beallfortoday.'The Closed Council

needed no furtherencouragement. Papersflapped, robes rustled, chairssquealedastheyscrambledtobefirstoutoftheroom.Hoffmade it into the corridor.Marovia followed closebehind and Sult swept afterhim. Varuz helpedTorlichormupfromthefloor

andguidedhimbyhiselbow.'I apologise,' he waswheezing as he was hustled,bloody-faced, through thedoor, 'your Majesty, Iapologiseprofusely…'

Bayazstoodsternlyattheendofthetable,watchingthecouncillors hurry from theroom. Jezal lurked opposite,frozen somewhere betweenfurther anger and mortal

embarrassment, butincreasingly tending towardsthelatter.ItseemedtotakeanageforthelastmemberoftheClosed Council to finallyescapefromtheroom,andforthe great black doors to bedraggedshut.

The First of the Magiturned towards Jezal, and abroad smile broke suddenlyout across his face. 'Richly

done, your Majesty, richlydone.'

'What?' Jezal had beensure thathehadmadeanassof himself to a degree fromwhichhecouldneverrecover.

'Your advisers will thinktwice before taking youlightly again, I think. Not anew strategy, but no lesseffective for that. Harod theGreat was himself possessed

of a fearsome temper, andmade excellent use of it.After one of his tantrums noone would dare to questionhis decisions for weeks.'Bayaz chuckled. 'Though Isuspect that even Harodwouldhavebalkedatdealinga wound to his own HighConsul.'

'That was no tantrum!'snarled Jezal, his temper

flickeringupagain.Ifhewasbeset by horrible old men,then Bayaz was himself theworstculpritbyfar.'IfIamaking I will be treated likeone!Irefusetobedictatedtoin my own palace! Not byanyone…notby…Imean…'

Bayazglaredbackathim,his green eyes frighteninglyhard, and spoke with frostycalm. 'If your intention is to

lose your temper with me,your Majesty, I wouldstronglyadviseagainstit.'

Jezal's rage had been onthe very verge of fadingalready, and now, under theicy gaze of the Magus, itwilted away entirely. 'Ofcourse…I'msorry…I'mverysorry.'Heclosedhiseyesandstared numbly down at thepolished tabletop. He never

used to say sorry foranything.Now that hewas aking,andneededtoapologisetonoman,hefoundhecouldnot stop. 'I did not ask forthis,' he muttered weakly,floppingdowninhischair. 'Idon't knowhow it happened.Ididnothingtodeserveit.'

'Of course not.' Bayazcameslowlyaroundthetable.'Nomancaneverdeservethe

throne.Thatiswhyyoumuststrivetobeworthyofitnow.Everyday. Justasyourgreatpredecessors did. Casamir.Arnault,Harodhimself.'

Jezal took a long breath,andblewitout. 'You'reright,of course. How can youalwaysberight?'

Bayaz held up a humblehand. 'Always right?Scarcely. But I have the

benefit of long experience,and am here to guide you asbest I can.You havemade afine start along a difficultroad, and you should beproud, as I am. There arecertainstepswecannotdelay,however. Chief among themisyourwedding.'

Jezalgaped.'Wedding?''Anunmarriedkingislike

a chair with three legs, your

Majesty. Apt to fall. Yourrump has only just touchedthe throne, and it is far fromsettledthere.Youneedawifewho brings you support, andyou need heirs so that yoursubjectsmay feel secure.Allthat delay will bring isopportunities for yourenemiestoworkagainstyou.'

The blows fell so rapidlythat Jezal had to grasp his

head,hoping tostop it flyingapart. 'My enemies?' Had henot always tried to get onwitheveryone?

'Can you be so naive?Lord Brock is doubtlessalready plotting against you.LordIsherwillnotbeputoffindefinitely. Others on theOpen Council supported yououtoffear,orwerepaidtodoso.'

'Paid?'gaspedJezal.'Such support does not

lastforever.Youmustmarry,andyourwifemustbringyoupowerfulallies.'

'ButIhave…'Jezallickedhis lips, uncertain of how tobroach the subject. 'Somecommitments…inthatline.'

'Ardee West?' Jezal halfopened his mouth to ask

Bayazhowheknewsomuchabout his romanticentanglements, but quicklythought better of it. The oldman seemed to know farmore about him than he didhimself,afterall.'Iknowhowitis,Jezal.Ihavelivedalonglife. Of course you love her.Ofcourseyouwouldgiveupanything for her, now. Butthatfeeling,trustme,willnot

last.'Jezal shifted his weight

uncomfortably. He tried topictureArdee'sunevensmile,the softness of her hair, thesoundof her laugh.Thewaythat had given him suchcomfort,outontheplain.Butit was hard to think of hernow without rememberingher teeth sinking into his lip,his face tingling from her

slap, the sound of the tablecreaking back and forwardunderneath them.Theshame,and the guilt, and thecomplexity. Bayaz' voicecontinued: mercilessly calm,brutally realistic, ruthlesslyreasonable.

'Itisonlynaturalthatyoumadecommitments,butyourpast life is gone, and yourcommitmentshavegonewith

it. You are a king, now, andyourpeopledemand thatyoubehave like one. They needsomething to look up to.Somethingeffortlesslyhigherthan themselves. We aretalkingof theHighQueenoftheUnion.Amothertokings.A farmer's daughter with atendency towardsunpredictablebehaviourandapenchant forheavydrinking?

I think not.' Jezal flinched tohear Ardee described thatway, but he could hardlyarguethepoint.

'Youare anatural son.Awife of unimpeachablebreedingwouldlendyourlinefargreaterweight.Fargreaterrespect.There is aworld fullof eligible women, yourMajesty, all born to highstation.Dukes'daughters,and

kings' sisters, beautiful andcultured. A world ofprincessestochoosefrom.'

Jezal felt his eyebrowsrising. He loved Ardee, ofcourse, but Bayaz made adevastating argument. Therewassomuchmoretothinkofnow than his own needs, ifthe idea of himself as a kingwasabsurd,theideaofArdeeas a queenwas triply so.He

loved her, of course. In away. But a world ofprincesses to choose from?That was a phrase it wasdecidedly hard to find faultwith.

'You see it!' The First oftheMagi snapped his fingersin triumph. 'I will send toDukeOrsoofTalins, thathisdaughter Terez should beintroduced to you.' He held

up a calming hand. 'Just tobegin with, you understand.Talins would make apowerfulally.'Hesmiled,andleaned forward tomurmur inJezal'sear. 'Butyouneednotleave everything behind, ifyou truly are attached to thisgirl. Kings often keepmistresses,youknow.'

And that, of course,decidedthematter.

PreparedfortheWorst

«^»

Gloktasatinhisdiningroom,staring down at his table,

rubbing at his aching thighwith one hand. His otherstirredabsentlyat thefortunein jewels spread out on theblackleathercase.

WhydoIdothis?WhydoI stay here, and askquestions?Icouldbegoneonthenext tide,andnooneanyworse off. Perhaps a tour ofthe beautiful cities of Styria?Acruise round theThousand

Isles? Finally to farawayThond, or distant Suljuk, tolive out my twisted days inpeace among people who donotunderstandawordIsay?Hurting no one? Keeping nosecrets? Caring no more forinnocence or guilt, for truthorforlies,thandotheselittlelumpsofrock.

Thegems twinkled in thecandlelight, clicking against

each other, tickling at hisfingers as he pushed themthrough one way, and backthe other. But his Eminencewould weep and weep at mysudden disappearance. So,one imagines, would thebanking house of Valint andBalk. Where in all the wideCircle of the World would Ibesafefromthetearsofsuchpowerfulmasters? Andwhy?

So I can sit on my crippledarseallthelongday,waitingfor the killers to come? So Icanlieinbed,andache,andthinkaboutallthatI'velost?

He frowned down at thejewels: clean, and hard, andbeautiful. Imademy choiceslongago.When I tookValintand Balk's money. When Ikissed the ring of office.BeforetheEmperor'sprisons,

even,whenIrodedowntothebridge, sure that onlymagnificent Sand danGloktacouldsavetheworld…

Athumpingknockechoedthrough the roomandGloktajerked his head up, toothlessmouthhangingopen.As longasitisnottheArchLector—

'Open up, in the name ofhisEminence!'

He grimaced at a spasmthrough his back as hedragged himself out of hischair,clawing thestones intoa heap. Priceless, glitteringhandfuls of them. Sweat hadbroken out across hisforehead.

What if the Arch Lectorwere to discover my littletreasuretrove?Hegiggledtohimself ashe snatchedat the

leather case. I was going tomentionallthis,reallyIwas,but the timing never seemedquite right. A small matter,after all—no more than aking's ransom. His fingersfumbledwith the jewels, andin his haste he flicked oneastray and it droppedsparkling to the floor with asharpclick,click.

Another knock, louder