Threetrees grinned as he took it. 'Now that's our kind of language, Furious. You take care, now.' He and the Dogman started to trudge away up the slope towards the tree line.

'Colonel West?'

He knew who it was before he turned. There weren't many women in the camp that would have had much to say to him. Cathil, standing in the slush, a borrowed coat wrapped round her. She looked somewhat furtive, somewhat shamefaced, but the sight of her still somehow brought up a sudden surge of anger and embarrassment.

It was unfair, he knew. He had no rights over her. It was unfair, but that only made it worse. All he could think of was the side of the Dogman's face and her grunting, uh… uh… uh. So horribly surprising. So horribly disappointing. 'You'd better go with them,' said West with an icy formality, scarcely able to bring himself to say anything at all. 'Safest place.' He turned away but she brought him up short.

'It was you, wasn't it, outside the tent… the other night?'

'Yes, I'm afraid it was. I simply came to check if there was anything you needed,' he lied. 'I really had no idea… who you would be with.'

'I certainly never meant for you to—'

'The Dogman?' he muttered, face suddenly crunching up with incomprehension. 'Him? I mean… why?' Why him instead of me, was what he wanted to say, but he managed to stop himself.

'I know… I know you must think—'

'You've no need to explain yourself to me!' he hissed, though he knew he'd just asked her to. 'Who cares what I think?' He spat it out with a deal more venom than he had intended, but his own loss of control only made him angrier, and he lost more. 'I don't care what you choose to fuck!'

She winced and stared down at the ground beside his feet. 'I didn't mean to… well. I owe you a lot, I know. It's just that… you're too angry for me. That's all.'

West stared at her as she trudged off up the hill alter the Northmen, hardly able to believe his ears. She was happy to bed that stinking savage, but he was too angry? It was so unfair he almost choked on his rage.

Questions

Questions

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Colonel Glokta charged into his dining room in a tremendous hurry, wrestling manfully with the buckle on his sword belt.

'Damn it!' he fumed. He was all thumbs. Couldn't get the thing closed. 'Damn it, damn it!'

'You need some help with that?' asked Shickel, sitting wedged in behind the table, black burns across her shoulders, cuts hanging open, dry as meat in the butcher's shop.