will they be content to watch, I wonder? How long before the sun goes down for us?
The door opened and Glokta turned his head, wincing as his neck clicked. It was the Lord Governor’s son, Korsten dan Vurms. He shut the door behind him and strode purposefully into the room, metal heel tips clicking on the mosaic floor. Ah, the flower of the Union’s young nobility. The sense of honour is almost palpable. Or did someone fart?
“Superior Glokta! I hope I have not kept you waiting.”
“You have,” said Glokta as he shuffled to the table. “That is what happens when one comes late to a meeting.”
Vurms frowned slightly. “Then I apologise,” he said, in the most unapologetic tone imaginable. “How are you finding our city?”
“Hot and full of steps.” Glokta dumped himself into one of the exquisite chairs. “Where is the Lord Governor?”
The frown turned down further. “I am afraid that my father is unwell, and cannot attend. You understand that he is an old man, and needs his rest. I can speak for him however.”
“Can you indeed? And what do the two of you have to say?”
“My father is most concerned about the work that you are undertaking on the defences. I am told that the King’s soldiers have been set to digging holes on the peninsula, rather than defending the walls of the Upper City. You realise that you are leaving us at the mercy of the natives!”
Glokta snorted. “The natives are citizens of the Union, no matter how reluctant. Believe me, they are more inclined to mercy than the Gurkish.” Of their mercy I have first-hand experience.
“They are primitives!” sneered Vurms, “and dangerous to boot! You have not been here long enough to understand the threat they pose to us! You should talk to Harker. He’s got the right ideas as far as the natives are concerned.”
“I talked to Harker, and I didn’t like his ideas. I suspect he may have been forced to rethink them, in fact, downstairs, in the dark.” I suspect he is rethinking even now, and as quickly as his pea of a brain will allow. “As for your father’s worries, he need no longer concern himself with the defence of the city. Since he is an old man, and in need of rest, I have no doubt he will be happy to pass the responsibility to me.”
A spasm of anger passed across Vurms’ handsome features. He opened his mouth to hiss some curse, but evidently thought better of it. As well he should. He sat back in his chair, rubbing one thumb and one finger thoughtfully together. When he spoke, it was with a friendly smile and a charming softness. Now comes the wheedling. “Superior Glokta, I feel we have got off on the wrong foot—”
“I only have one that works.”
Vurms’ smile slipped somewhat, but he forged on. “It is plain that you hold the cards, for the time being, but my father has many friends back in Midderland. I can be a significant hindrance to you, if I have the mind. A significant hindrance or a great help—”
“I am so glad that you have chosen to cooperate. You can begin by telling me what became of Superior Davoust.”
The smile slipped off entirely. “How should I know?”
“Everyone knows something.” And someone knows more than the rest. Is it you, Vurms?
The Lord Governor’s son thought about it for a moment. Dense, or guilty? Is he trying to think of ways to help me, or ways to cover his tracks? “I know the natives hated him. They were forever plotting against us, and Davoust was tireless in his pursuit of the disloyal. I have no doubt he fell victim to one of their schemes. I’d be asking questions down in the Lower City, if I was you.”
“Oh, I am quite confident the answers lie here in the Citadel.”
“Not with me,” snapped Vurms, looking Glokta up and down. “Believe me when I say, I would be much happier if Davoust was still with us.”
Perhaps, or perhaps not, but we will get no answers today. “Very well. Tell me about the city’s stores.”
“The
The door opened and Glokta turned his head, wincing as his neck clicked. It was the Lord Governor’s son, Korsten dan Vurms. He shut the door behind him and strode purposefully into the room, metal heel tips clicking on the mosaic floor. Ah, the flower of the Union’s young nobility. The sense of honour is almost palpable. Or did someone fart?
“Superior Glokta! I hope I have not kept you waiting.”
“You have,” said Glokta as he shuffled to the table. “That is what happens when one comes late to a meeting.”
Vurms frowned slightly. “Then I apologise,” he said, in the most unapologetic tone imaginable. “How are you finding our city?”
“Hot and full of steps.” Glokta dumped himself into one of the exquisite chairs. “Where is the Lord Governor?”
The frown turned down further. “I am afraid that my father is unwell, and cannot attend. You understand that he is an old man, and needs his rest. I can speak for him however.”
“Can you indeed? And what do the two of you have to say?”
“My father is most concerned about the work that you are undertaking on the defences. I am told that the King’s soldiers have been set to digging holes on the peninsula, rather than defending the walls of the Upper City. You realise that you are leaving us at the mercy of the natives!”
Glokta snorted. “The natives are citizens of the Union, no matter how reluctant. Believe me, they are more inclined to mercy than the Gurkish.” Of their mercy I have first-hand experience.
“They are primitives!” sneered Vurms, “and dangerous to boot! You have not been here long enough to understand the threat they pose to us! You should talk to Harker. He’s got the right ideas as far as the natives are concerned.”
“I talked to Harker, and I didn’t like his ideas. I suspect he may have been forced to rethink them, in fact, downstairs, in the dark.” I suspect he is rethinking even now, and as quickly as his pea of a brain will allow. “As for your father’s worries, he need no longer concern himself with the defence of the city. Since he is an old man, and in need of rest, I have no doubt he will be happy to pass the responsibility to me.”
A spasm of anger passed across Vurms’ handsome features. He opened his mouth to hiss some curse, but evidently thought better of it. As well he should. He sat back in his chair, rubbing one thumb and one finger thoughtfully together. When he spoke, it was with a friendly smile and a charming softness. Now comes the wheedling. “Superior Glokta, I feel we have got off on the wrong foot—”
“I only have one that works.”
Vurms’ smile slipped somewhat, but he forged on. “It is plain that you hold the cards, for the time being, but my father has many friends back in Midderland. I can be a significant hindrance to you, if I have the mind. A significant hindrance or a great help—”
“I am so glad that you have chosen to cooperate. You can begin by telling me what became of Superior Davoust.”
The smile slipped off entirely. “How should I know?”
“Everyone knows something.” And someone knows more than the rest. Is it you, Vurms?
The Lord Governor’s son thought about it for a moment. Dense, or guilty? Is he trying to think of ways to help me, or ways to cover his tracks? “I know the natives hated him. They were forever plotting against us, and Davoust was tireless in his pursuit of the disloyal. I have no doubt he fell victim to one of their schemes. I’d be asking questions down in the Lower City, if I was you.”
“Oh, I am quite confident the answers lie here in the Citadel.”
“Not with me,” snapped Vurms, looking Glokta up and down. “Believe me when I say, I would be much happier if Davoust was still with us.”
Perhaps, or perhaps not, but we will get no answers today. “Very well. Tell me about the city’s stores.”
“The
Similar Books
