'It would seem the day is ours. This one, at least.' Glokta limped to the corner of the balcony and peered southwards through his eye-glass, down into the bay and the Southern Sea beyond. There was nothing but calm water, glittering bright to the flat horizon. 'And still no sign of any Gurkish ships.'

Vissbruck cleared his throat. 'With the greatest of respect…' Meaning none, I suppose. 'The Gurkish have never been sailors. Is there any reason to suppose that they have ships now?'

Only that an old black wizard appeared in my chambers in the dead of night, and told me to watch out for some. 'Simply because we fail to see a thing, it does not mean it is not there. The Emperor has us on the rack as it is. Perhaps he keeps his fleet in reserve, waiting for a better time, refusing to show his whole hand until he needs to.'

'But with ships, he could blockade us, starve us out, get around our defences! He need not have squandered all those soldiers—'

'If the Emperor of Gurkhul has one thing in abundance, General, it is more soldiers. They have made a workable breach.' Glokta scanned along the walls until he came to the other weak spot. He could see the great cracks in the masonry on the inside, shored up with heavy beams, with heaped-up rubble, but still bowing inwards, more each day. 'And they will soon have another. They have filled the ditch in four places. Meanwhile our numbers dwindle, our morale falters. They don't need ships.'

'But we have them.' Glokta was surprised to find the General had stepped up close beside him and was speaking softly and urgently, looking earnestly into his eyes. Like a man proposing marriage. Or treason. I wonder which we have here? 'There is still time,' muttered Vissbruck, his eyes swivelling nervously towards the door and back. 'We control the bay. As long as we still hold the Lower City we hold the wharves. We can pull out the Union forces. The civilians at least. There are still some wives and children of officers left in the Citadel, a scattering of merchants and craftsmen who settled in the Upper City and are reluctant to leave. It could be done swiftly.'

Glokta frowned. True, perhaps, but the Arch Lector's orders were otherwise. The civilians can make their own arrangements, if they so desire. The Union troops will not be going anywhere. Except onto their funeral pyres, of course. But Vissbruck took his silence for encouragement. 'If you were to give me the word it could be done this very evening, and all away before—'