The Styrian scratched at the flaky rash on the side of his neck. 'I count five standards. Five of the Emperor's legions, and plenty more besides. Scouts, engineers, irregulars from across the South. How many troops…' He squinted up into the sun, lips moving silently as though his head was full of complex sums. 'A fucking lot.' He tipped his head back and sucked the last drops from his bottle, then he smacked his lips, pulled back his arm and hurled it towards the Gurkish. It flashed in the sun for a moment, then shattered against the hard dirt on the other side of the channel. 'Do you see those carts at the back?'

Glokta squinted down his eye-glass. There did indeed seem to be a shadowy column of great wagons behind the mass of soldiery, barely visible in the shimmering haze and the clouds of dust kicked up by the stomping boots. Soldiers need supplies of course, but then again… Here and there he could see long timbers sticking up like spider's legs. 'Siege engines,' muttered Glokta to himself. All just as Yulwei said. 'They are in earnest.'

'Ah, but so are you.' Cosca stood up beside the parapet, started to fiddle with his belt. A moment later, Glokta heard the sound of his piss spattering against the base of the wall, far below. The mercenary grinned over his shoulder, thin hair fluttering in the salt wind. 'Everyone's in lots of earnest. I must speak to Magister Eider. I'd say I'll be getting my battle money soon.'

'I think so.' Glokta slowly lowered his eye-glass. 'And earning it too.'

The Blind Lead the Blind

The Blind Lead the Blind

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The First of the Magi lay twisted on his back in the cart, wedged between a water barrel and a sack of horse feed, a coil of rope for his pillow. Logen had never seen him look so old, and thin, and weak. His breath came shallow, his skin was pale and blotchy, drawn tight over his bones and beaded with sweat. From time to time he'd twitch, and squirm, and mutter strange words, his eyelids flickering like a man trapped in a bad dream.

'What happened?'

Quai stared down. 'Whenever you use the Art, you borrow from the Other Side, and what is borrowed has to be repaid. There are risks, even for a master. To seek to change the world with a thought… the arrogance of it.' The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile. 'Borrow too often, perhaps, one time you touch the world below, and leave a piece of yourself behind…'

'Behind?' muttered Logen, peering down at the twitching old man. He didn't much like the way Quai was talking. It was no smiling matter, as far as he could see, to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere without a clue where they were going.