Vissbruck cleared his throat noisily, evidently upset at being ignored. He gestured towards the endless ranks of men advancing down the isthmus. 'Superior, the Gurkish approach.' Indeed? I had not noticed. 'Do I have your permission to flood the ditch?'

Oh yes, your moment of glory. 'Very well.'

Vissbruck strutted to the parapet with an air of the greatest self-importance. He slowly raised his arm, then chopped it portentously through the air. Somewhere, out of sight below, whips cracked and teams of mules strained on ropes. The complaining squeal of wood under great pressure reached them on the battlements, then a creaking and a cracking as the dams gave way, and then an angry thundering as the great weight of salt water broke through and surged down the deep ditch from both ends, foaming angry white. Water met water just beneath them, throwing glittering spray into the air as high as the battlements and higher yet. A moment later, and this new ribbon of sea was calm. The ditch had become a channel, the city had become an island.

'The ditch is flooded!' announced General Vissbruck.

'So we see,' said Glokta. 'Congratulations.' Let us hope the Gurkish have no strong swimmers among them. They certainly have no shortage of men to choose from.

Five tall poles waved gently above the tramping mass of soldiers, Gurkish symbols glittering upon them in solid gold. Symbols of battles fought, and battles won. The standards of five legions, flashing in the merciless sun. Five legions. Just as the old man told me. Will ships follow, then? Glokta turned his head and peered out across the Lower City. The long wharves stuck into the bay like the spines of a hedgehog, still busy with ships. Ships carrying our supplies in, and a last few nervous merchants out. There were no walls there. Few defences of any kind. We did not think we needed them. The Union has always ruled the seas. If ships should come…

'Do we still have supplies of wood and stone?'

The General nodded vigorously, all eagerness. Finally adjusted to the changes in the chain of command, it seems. 'Abundant supplies, Superior, precisely as your orders specified.'

'I want you to build a wall behind the docks and along the shoreline. As strong, and as high, and as soon as possible. Our defences there are weak. The Gurkish may test them sooner or later.'

The General frowned out at the swarming army of soldiers crawling over the peninsula, looked down towards the calm docks, and back. 'But surely the threat from the landward side is a little more… pressing? The Gurkish are poor sailors, and in any case have no fleet worthy of the name—'

'The world changes, General. The world changes.'

'Of course.' Vissbruck turned to speak to his aides.

Glokta shuffled up to the parapet beside Cosca. 'How many Gurkish troops, would you judge?'