She snorted. 'Turning them out of the temple? Arming the natives? Then demanding money? It might be fair to say you're not their favourite person.'

'Might it be fair to say they're after my blood?' And plenty of it, I shouldn't wonder.

'It might, but for the time being, at least, I think I've managed to convince them that you're a good thing for the city.' She looked levelly at him for a moment. 'You are a good thing, aren't you?'

'If keeping the Gurkish out is your priority.' That is our priority, isn't it? 'More money wouldn't hurt, though.'

'More money never hurts, but that's the trouble with merchants. They much prefer making it to spending it, even when it's in their own best interests.' She gave a heavy sigh, rapped her fingernails on the table, looked down at her hand. She seemed to consider a moment, then she began to pull the rings from her fingers. When she had finally got them all off, she tossed them into the box along with the coins.

Glokta frowned. 'A winning gesture, Magister, but I could not possibly—'

'I insist,' she said, unclasping her heavy necklace and dropping it into the box. 'I can always get more, once you've saved the city. In any case, they'll do me no good when the Gurkish rip them from my corpse, will they?' She slipped her heavy bracelets off her wrists, yellow gold, studded with green gemstones. They rattled down amongst the rest. 'Take the jewels, before I change my mind. A man lost in the desert should take such water—'

'As he is offered, regardless of the source. Kahdia told me the very same thing.'

'Kahdia is a clever man.'

'He is. I thank you for your generosity, Magister.' Glokta snapped the lid of the box shut.

'The least I could do.' She got up from her chair and walked to the door, her sandals hissing across the carpet. 'I will speak with you soon.'

'He says he must speak with you now.'

'What was his name, Shickel?'

'Mauthis. A banker.'

One more creditor, come clamouring for his money. Sooner or later I'll have to just arrest the pack of them. That will be the end of my little spending spree, but it will almost be worth it to see the looks on their faces. Glokta gave a hopeless shrug. 'Send him in.'

He was a tall man in his fifties, almost ill-looking in his gauntness, hollow-cheeked and sunken-eyed. There was a stern precision to his movements, a steady coldness to his gaze. As though he is weighing the value of all he looks at in silver marks, including me.

'My name is Mauthis.'