Time to cut the truth out.
Frost jabbed Severard in the stomach with two fingers and his eyes snapped open. He jerked in his chair, the manacles rattling. He saw Glokta. He saw Frost. His eyes went wide as they darted round the room. They went wider still when he realised where he was. He snorted in air, the quick, hard breath of abject terror, the greasy strands of hair across his face blowing this way and that with the force of it. And how will we begin?
I know he croaked. I know I told that woman who you were I know but I had no choice. Ah, the wheedling. Every man, more or less, behaves the same way when hes chained to a chair. What could I do? She wouldve fucking killed me! I had no choice! Please
I know what you told her, and I know you had no choice.
Then then why
Dont give me that, Severard. You know why youre here. Frost stepped forward, as impassive as ever, and lifted the lid on Gloktas wonderful case. The trays inside opened up like an exotic flower, proffering out the polished handles, the gleaming needles, the shining blades of his instruments.
Glokta puffed out his cheeks. I had a good day, today. I woke up clean, and made it to the bath on my own. Not too much pain. He wrapped his fingers around the grip of the cleaver. Something to celebrate, a good day. I get so very few of them. He slid it from its sheath, the heavy blade flashing in the harsh lamplight. Severards eyes followed it all the way, bulging with fear and fascination, beads of sweat glittering on his pale forehead.
No, he whispered. Yes. Frost unlocked the cuff around Severards left wrist, lifted his arm in both meaty hands. He took the fingers and spread them out one by one until they were flattened on the wood in front of him, wrapping his other arm around Severards shoulders in a tight embrace.
I think we can dispense with the preamble. Glokta rocked forward, got up and limped slowly around the table, his cane clicking on the tiles, his left leg dragging behind it, the corner of the cleavers blade scraping gently across the wood of the table-top. I need not explain how this will work to you. You, who have assisted me so very ably, on so very many occasions. Who could know better how we will proceed?
No, whimpered Severard, trying half a desperate smile, but with a tear leaking from the corner of his eye nonetheless. No, you wouldnt! Not to me! You wouldnt!
Not to you? Glokta gave a sad smile of his own. Oh, Practical Severard, please He let the grin slowly fade as he lifted the cleaver. You know me so much better than that.
Bang! The heavy blade flashed down and hacked into the table-top, paring the slightest sliver of skin from the end of Severards middle finger.
No! he squawked. No! You dont admire my precision any longer, then?
Oh, yes, yes. Glokta tugged at the smooth handle and dragged the blade free. How did you think this would end? Youve been talking. Youve been saying things you shouldnt, to people you had no business saying anything to. You will tell me what. You will tell me who. The cleaver glimmered as he raised it again. And you had better tell me soon.
No! Severard thrashed and wriggled in the chair but Frost had him as tightly as a fly in honey. Yes.
The blade sliced cleanly through the end of Severards middle finger and took it off at the first joint. The end of his index finger spun across the wood. The tip of his ring finger stayed where it was, wedged into a joint in the table top. With Frosts hand still clamped tight as a vice round his wrist the blood only dribbled gently from the three wounds and spread out in slow rivulets down the grain.
There was a breathless pause. One, two, three Severard screamed. He wailed, and jerked, and trembled, his face quivering. Painful, eh? Welcome to my world.
Glokta worked his aching foot around in his boot. Who would ever have thought that our charming association, so enjoyable and profitable to us both, could possibly end like this? Not my choice. Not mine. Tell me who you spoke to. Tell me what you said. Then this unpleasantness will all be over. Otherwise
Bang! The end of his little finger, now, and three more pieces of the rest. His middle finger was down to the knuckle, almost. Severard stared, his eyes wide with horror, his breath coming in short, fast gasps. Shock, amazement, stunned terror. Glokta leaned down to his ear. I hope you werent planning to take up the violin, Severard. Youll be lucky if you can play a fucking gong by the time were done here. He winced at a spasm in his neck as he lifted the cleaver again.
Wait! sobbed Severard. Wait! Valint and Balk! The bankers! I told them I told them
I knew it. What did you tell them?
That you were still looking for Raynaults murderer when wed already hung the Emperors emissary! Glokta met Frosts eyes, and the albino stared back, emotionless. And another secret is dragged kicking into the merciless light. How disappointingly right I was. It always amazes me, how swiftly problems can be solved, once you start cutting things off people. And and I told them that you wanted to know about our bastard king, and about Bayaz, and I told them you werent checking up on Sult like they asked, and I told them I told them
Severard stuttered to a halt, staring at the remains of his fingers, scattered out across the table in a spreading slick of blood. That mixture of unbearable pain, even more unbearable loss, and total disbelief. Am I dreaming? Or have I really lost half my fingers, forever?
Glokta nudged Severard with the end of the cleaver. What else?
I told them anything I could. I told them everything I knew The words came spitting and drooling from his lips, curled back with agony. I had no choice. I had debts, and they offered to pay. I had no choice!
Valint and Balk. Debts, and blackmail, and betrayal. How horribly banal it all is. Thats the trouble with answers. Theyre never as exciting as the questions, somehow. Gloktas lips twitched into a sad smile. No choice. I know exactly how you feel. He lifted the cleaver again.
But
Bang! The heavy blade scraped against the table-top as Glokta swept four more neat slices of flesh carefully out of the way. Severard screamed, and gasped, and screamed some more. Desperate, slobbering screams, his face screwed up tight. Just like the prunes I sometimes have for breakfast. He still had half his little finger, but the other three were nothing more than oozing stumps. But we cannot stop now, not after we have come so far. We cannot stop for anything, can we? We must know it all.
What about the Arch Lector? asked Glokta, stretching his neck to the side and working his stiff shoulder. How did he know what went on in Dagoska? What did you tell him?
How did he what I told him nothing! I told him
Bang! Severards thumb flew off, spinning across the table, leaving behind a spiralling trail of bloody spots. Glokta worked his hips back and forth, trying to wriggle out of the aches down his legs, the aches up his back. But there is no escaping them. Every possible position, a little worse than the one before. What did you tell Sult?
I I Severard stared up, his mouth hanging open, a long string of drool dangling from his bottom lip. I
Glokta frowned. That is not an answer. Tie it off at the wrist and get the other hand ready. Weve nothing left to work with here.
No! No! Please I didnt please How I tire of the pleading. The words no and please lose all meaning after half an hour of this. They begin to sound like a sheep bleating. We are all lambs to the slaughter, in the end. He stared at the pieces of finger scattered across the bloody table. Meat for the butcher. Gloktas head hurt, the room was too bright. He put the cleaver down and rubbed at his sore eyes. A draining business, mutilating your closest friends. He realised he had smeared blood across his eyelids. Damn it.