'I hope I never see this place again,' he muttered wistfully.

'I'm with you there,' said Logen. 'Not quite so empty as we thought, eh? Do you think you could dream up a different way back?'

Bayaz frowned. 'That would seem prudent. We will return to Calcis down the river. There are woods on this side of the water, further downstream. A few sturdy tree trunks lashed together, and the Aos will carry us straight to the sea.'

'Or to a watery grave.' Jezal remembered with some clarity the surging water in the canyon of the great river.

'My hope is better. In any case, there are still long miles to cover westward before we think about the return journey.'

Longfoot nodded. 'Indeed there are, including a pass through a most forbidding range of mountains.'

'Lovely,' said Logen. 'I can hardly wait.'

'Nor I. Unfortunately, not all the horses survived.' The Navigator raised his eyebrows. 'We have two to pull the cart, two to ride… that leaves us two short.'

'I hate those fucking things anyway.' Logen strode to the cart and clambered up opposite Bayaz in the back.

There was a long pause as they all considered the situation. Two horses, three riders. Never a happy position. Longfoot was the first to speak. 'I will need, of course, to scout forward as we come close to the mountains. Scouting, alas, is an essential part of any successful journey. One for which, unfortunately, I will require one of the horses…'

'I should probably ride,' murmured Jezal, shifting painfully, 'what with my leg…'

Ferro looked at the cart, and Jezal saw her eyes meet Logen's for a brief and intensely hostile moment.

'I'll walk,' she barked.

The Hero's Welcome

The Hero's Welcome

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It was raining as Superior Glokta hobbled back into Adua. A mean, thin, ugly sort of rain on a hard wind off the sea, that rendered the treacherous wood of the gangplank, the squealing timbers of the wharf, the slick stones of the quay, all slippery as liars. He licked at his sore gums, rubbed at his sore thigh, swept his grimace up and down the grey shoreline. A pair of surly-looking guardsmen were leaning against a rotten warehouse ten paces away. Further on a party of dockers were involved in a bitter dispute over a heap of crates. A shivering beggar nearby took a couple of paces towards Glokta, thought better of it, and slunk away.