Glokta snorted. 'I would go, of course.' He tapped his leg with his cane. 'But I'm afraid my days of heroics are far behind me.'

'Lucky for you.'

'Hardly. We should build a barricade behind the gates. That is our weakest point. A half circle, I would guess, some hundred strides across, would make an effective killing ground. If they manage to break through we might still contain them there, long enough to push them back.' Might…

'Ah, pushing them back.' Cosca scratched at the rash on his neck. 'I'm sure the volunteers will be falling over each other for that duty when the time comes. Still, I'll see it done.'

'You have to admire them.' General Vissbruck strode up to the parapet, his hands clasped tightly behind his impeccably pressed uniform. I'm surprised he finds the time for presentation, with things as they are. Still, we all cling to what we can. He shook his head as he peered down at the corpses. 'Some courage, to come at us like this, over and over, against defences so strong and so well manned. I've rarely seen men so willing to give their lives.'

'They have that most strange and dangerous of qualities,' said Cosca. 'They think they're in the right.'

Vissbruck stared sternly out from under his brows. 'It is we who are in the right.'

'If you like.' The mercenary grinned sideways at Glokta. 'But I think the rest of us long ago gave up on the idea that there's any such thing. The plucky Gurkish come on with their barrows…

and it's my job to shoot them full of arrows!' He barked out a sharp laugh.

'I don't think that's amusing,' snapped Vissbruck. 'A fallen opponent should be treated with respect.'

'Why?'

'Because it could be any one of us rotting in the sun, and probably soon will be.'

Cosca only laughed the louder, and clapped Vissbruck on the arm. 'Now you're getting it! If I've learned one thing from twenty years of warfare, it's that you have to look at the funny side!'

Glokta watched the Styrian chuckling at the battlefield. Trying to decide when would be the best time to change sides? Trying to work out how good a fight to give the Gurkish before they pay better than I do? There's more than rhymes in that scabby head, but for the moment we cannot do without him. He glanced at General Vissbruck, who had moved further down the walkway to sulk on his own. Our plump friend has neither the brains nor the bravery to hold this city for longer than a week.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned back to Cosca. 'What?' he snapped.