Glokta refused to be moved. 'Thank you, Magister, but I believe I can make my own.' He shuffled across to the table under his own power, such as it was. 'You must be General Vissbruck, charged with the city's defence.' The General was in his middle forties, running slightly to baldness, sweating abundantly in an elaborate uniform, buttoned all the way to the neck in spite of the heat. I remember you. You were in Gurkhul, in the war. A Major in the King's Own, and well known for being an ass. It seems you have done well, at least, as asses generally do.

'A pleasure,' said Vissbruck, scarcely even glancing up from his documents.

'It always is, to renew an old acquaintance.'

'We've met?'

'We fought together in Gurkhul.'

'We did?' A spasm of shock ran over Vissbruck's sweaty face. 'You're… that Glokta?'

'I am indeed, as you say, that Glokta.'

The General blinked. 'Er, well, er… how have you been?'

'In very great pain, thank you for asking, but I see that you have prospered, and that is a tremendous consolation.' Vissbruck blinked, but Glokta did not give him time to reply. 'And this must be Lord Governor Vurms. A positive honour, your Grace.'

The old man was a caricature of decrepitude, shrunken into his great robes of state like a withered plum in its furry skin. His hands seemed to shiver even in the heat, his head was shiny bald aside from a few white wisps. He squinted up at Glokta through weak and rheumy eyes.

'What did he say?' The Lord Governor stared about him in confusion. 'Who is this man?'

General Vissbruck leaned across, so close his lips almost brushed the old man's ear. 'Superior Glokta, your Grace! The replacement for Davoust!'

'Glokta? Glokta? Where the hell is Davoust anyway?' No one bothered to reply.

'I am Korsten dan Vurms.' The Lord Governor's son spoke his own name as though it was a magic spell, offered his hand to Glokta as though it was a priceless gift. He was blond-haired and handsome, spread out carelessly in his chair, a well-tanned glow of health about him, as lithe and athletic as his father was ancient and wizened. I despise him already.

'I understand that you were once quite the swordsman.' Vurms looked Glokta up and down with a mocking smile. 'I fence myself, and there's really no one here to challenge me. Perhaps we might have a bout?' I'd love to, you little bastard. If I still had my leg I'd give you a bout of the shits before I was done.