So I see. Glokta glared at the long feather, the flamboyant golden basketwork on the hilt of Coscas sword. I thought we said inconspicuous.
In con spicuous? The Styrian frowned, then shrugged his shoulders. Ah, so that was the word. I remember something was said, and I remember I didnt understand it. He winced, and scratched at his crotch with one hand. I think I picked up some passengers from one of those women at the tavern. Little bastards dont half give a man an itch. Huh. The women are paid to go there. One might have thought the lice would have better taste.
A shadowy crowd began to form out of the darkness behind Cosca, a few carrying hooded lanterns. A dozen shaggy outlines, then a dozen more, menace floating silently from each one of them like the stink floating from a turd. Are these your men?
The nearest sported perhaps the worst facial boils that Glokta had ever seen. The man beside him had only one hand, the other having been replaced with a savage-looking hook. A huge fat fellow came next, his pale neck blue with a confusion of badly drawn tattoos. A man almost dwarfish, with a face like a rat and only one eye accompanied him. He had not bothered with a patch, and the socket yawned open under his greasy hair. The list of villainy went on. Two dozen, perhaps, all told, of the most savage-looking criminals Glokta had ever laid eyes on. And Ive laid eyes on a few in my time. Strangers to bathwater, certainly. Not a one of them looks like he wouldnt sell his sister for a mark. They appear somewhat unreliable, he murmured.
Unreliable? Nonsense, Superior! Out of luck is all, and we both know how that goes, no? Why, theres not a man of them I wouldnt trust my mother to.
Are you sure?
Shes been dead these twenty years. What harm could they do her now? Cosca flung his arm round Gloktas twisted shoulders and drew him close, causing a painful twinge to jab at his hips. Im afraid that pickings are slim. His warm breath smelled strongly of spirits and corruption. Every man not desperate fled the city the moment the Gurkish arrived. But who cares, eh? I hired them for their guts and their sinews, not their looks. Desperate men are the kind I like! We can understand them, no, you and I? Some jobs call for desperate men only, eh, Superior?
Glokta frowned briefly over that collection of gaunt, of bloated, of scarred and ruined faces. How could it possibly be that promising Colonel Glokta, dashing commander of the Kings Own first regiment, came to be in charge of such a rabble? He gave a long sigh. But it is a little late now to be finding fine-looking mercenaries, and I suppose these will fill a pit as well as better. Very well. Wait here.
Glokta looked up at the dark house as he swung the gate open with his free hand and hobbled through. A chink of light peeped out from between the heavy hangings in the front window. He rapped at the door with the handle of his cane. A pause, then the sound of reluctant footsteps shuffling up the hall.
Who is it?
Me. Glokta.
Bolts drew back and light spilled out into the chill. Ardees face appeared, lean-looking, grey round the eyes and pink round the nose. Like a dying cat.
Superior! She grinned as she took him by the elbow and half-dragged him over the threshold. What a delight! Some conversation at last! Im so toweringly bored. Several empty bottles were gathered in the corner of the living room, made to glint angrily by smoky candles and a smouldering log in the grate. The table was cluttered with dirty plates and glasses. The place smelled of sweat and wine, old food and new desperation. Can there be a more miserable occupation than getting drunk on ones own? Wine can keep a happy man happy, on occasion. A sad one it always makes worse.
Ive been trying to get through this damn book again. Ardee slapped at a heavy volume lying open, face down, on a chair.
The Fall of the Master Maker, muttered Glokta. That rubbish? All magic and valour, no? I couldnt get through the first one.
I sympathise. Im onto the third and it doesnt get any easier. Too many damn wizards. I get them mixed up one with another. Its all battles and endless bloody journeys, here to there and back again. If I so much as glimpse another map I swear Ill kill myself.
Someone might save you the trouble.
Eh?
Im afraid you are no longer safe here. You should come with me.
Rescue? Thank the fates! She waved a dismissive hand. Weve been over this. The Gurkish are away on the other side of the city. Youre in more danger in the Agriont I shouldnt
The Gurkish are not the threat. My suitors are.
Your gentleman-friends are a threat to me?
You underestimate the extent of their jealousy. I fear they will soon become a threat to everyone I have known, friend or enemy, my whole sorry life. Glokta jerked a hooded cloak from a peg on the wall and held it out to her.
Where are we going?
A charming little house down near the docks. A little past its best, but plenty of character. Like the two of us, you could say.
There were heavy footsteps in the hallway and Cosca stuck his head into the room. Superior, we should leave if we want to reach the docks by He stopped, staring at Ardee. There was an uncomfortable silence.
Who is this? she murmured.
Cosca pushed flamboyantly into the room, swept off his hat, displaying his scabrous bald patch, and bowed low, low, low. Any lower and his nose would scrape the floorboards. Forgive me, my lady. Nicomo Cosca, famed soldier of fortune, at your service. Abject, in fact, at your feet. His throwing knife dropped out of his coat and rattled against the boards.
They all stared at it for a moment, then Cosca grinned up. You see that fly, against the wall?
Glokta narrowed his eyes. Perhaps not the best moment for
The blade spun across the room, missed the target by a stride, hit the wall handle-first and gouged out a lump of plaster, bounced back and clattered across the floor.
Shit, said Cosca. I mean damn.
Ardee frowned down at the knife. Id say shit.
Cosca passed it off with a rotten smile. I must be dazzled. When the Superior described to me your beauty I thought he must have how do you say exaggerated? Now I see that he came short of the mark. He retrieved his knife and jammed his hat back on, slightly askew. Please allow me to declare myself in love.
What did you tell him? asked Ardee.
Nothing. Glokta sucked sourly at his gums. Master Cosca has a habit of overstating the case.
Especially when in love, threw in the mercenary. Especially then. When I fall in love, I fall hard, and, as a rule, I do it no more than once a day.
Ardee stared at him. I dont know whether to feel flattered or scared.
Why not be both? said Glokta. But you will have to do it on the way. We are short of time, and I have a rank garden to weed.
The gate came open with an agonised shrieking of rusted metal. Glokta lurched over the decaying threshold, his leg, his hip, his back all stabbing at him from the long limp to the docks. The ruined mansion loomed out of the gloom at the far end of the shattered courtyard. Like a mighty mausoleum. A suitable tomb for all my dead hopes. Severard and Frost waited in the shadows on the broken steps, dressed all in black and masked, as usual. But not at all alike. A burly man and a slender, one white haired and one dark, one standing, arms folded, the other sitting, cross-legged. One is loyal, the other we shall find out.
Severard unravelled himself and got up with the usual grin around his eyes. Alright, chief, so whats all the