Meanwhile Vitari had hauled a great length of rattling chain from the sack and was winding it round and round Shickel's limp body while Severard held her up, dragging it tight, winding it round and round again. Two great padlocks completed the job.

They were snapped shut just in time. Shickel suddenly came alive, began thrashing on the floor. She snarled up at Glokta, straining at the chains. Her nose had already snapped back into place, the cut across her face had already closed. As though she was never hurt at all. So Yulwei spoke the truth. The chains rattled as she lunged forward with her teeth, and Glokta had to stumble back out of the way.

'It's persistent,' muttered Vitari, shoving her back against the wall with her boot. 'You'd have to give it that.'

'Fools!' hissed Shickel. 'You cannot resist what comes! God's right hand is falling upon this city, and nothing can save it! All your deaths are already written!' A particularly bright detonation flared across the sky, casting orange light onto the Practicals' masked faces. A moment later the thunder of it echoed around the room. Shickel began to laugh, a crazy, grating cackle. 'The Hundred Words are coming! No chains can bind them, no gates can keep them out! They are coming!'

'Perhaps.' Glokta shrugged. 'But they will come too late for you.'

'I am dead already! My body is nothing but dust! It belongs to the Prophet! Try as you might, you will learn nothing from me!'

Glokta smiled. He could almost feel the warmth of the flames, far below, on his face.

'That sounds like a challenge.'

One of Them

One of Them

« ^ »

Ardee smiled at him, and Jezal smiled back. He grinned like an idiot. He could not help it. He was so happy to be back where things made sense. Now they need never be parted. He wanted only to tell her how much he loved her. How much he missed her. He opened his mouth but she pressed her finger to his lips. Firmly.

'Shhh.'

She kissed him. Gently at first, then harder.

'Uh,' he said.

Her teeth nipped at his lip. Playful, to begin with.

'Ah,' he said.

They bit harder, and harder still.

'Ow!' he said.

She sucked at his face, her teeth ripping at his skin, scraping on his bones. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. It was dark, his head swam. There was a hideous tugging, an unbearable pulling on his mouth.

'Got it,' said a voice. The agonising pressure released.

'How bad is it?'

'Not as bad as it looks.'

'It looks very bad.'

'Shut up and hold that torch higher.'

'What's that?'

'What?'

'That there, sticking out?'

'His jaw, fool, what do you think it is?'

'I think I'm going to be sick. Healing is not among my remarkable—'