Not quite. Glokta turned and began to limp away from the Arch Lector’s office. Not quite. He could hear the woman hobbling along behind. Strangely invigorating to have someone trying to keep up with me. He upped the pace, and it hurt him. But it hurts her more.
Back to the South, then. He licked at his empty gums. Hardly a place of happy memories. To fight the Gurkish, after what it cost me last time. To root out disloyalty in a city where no one can be trusted, especially those sent to help me. To struggle in the heat and the dust, at a thankless task almost certain to end in failure. And failure, more than likely, will mean death.
He felt his cheek twitch, his eyelid flicker. At the hands of the Gurkish? At the hands of plotters against the crown? At the hands of his Eminence, or his agents? Or simply to vanish, as my predecessor did? Has one man ever had such a range of deaths to choose from? The corner of his mouth twitched up. I can hardly wait to get started.
That same question came into his head, over and over, and he still had no answer.
Why do I do this?
Why?
Acknowledgments
Four people without whom…
Bren Abercrombie, whose eyes are sore from reading it
Nick Abercrombie, whose ears are sore from hearing about it
Rob Abercrombie, whose fingers are sore from turning the pages
Lou Abercrombie, whose arms are sore from holding me up
And also…
Matthew Amos, for solid advice at a shaky time
Gillian Redfearn, who read past the beginning and made me change it
Simon Spanton, who bought it before he got to the end