'No I do not need bloody help!' he shrieked, flinging his belt onto the floor. 'What I need is for someone to explain what the hell is going on here! This is a disgrace! I will not have members of my regiment sitting around naked! Especially with such unsightly wounds! Where is your uniform, girl?'

'I thought you were more worried about the Prophet.'

'Never mind about him!' snapped Glokta, worming his way onto the bench opposite her. 'What about Bayaz? What about the First of the Magi? Who is he? What's he really after, the old bastard?'

Shickel smiled a sweet smile. 'Oh, that. I thought everyone knew that. The answer is…'

'Yes!' muttered the Colonel, mouth dry, eager as a schoolboy, 'The answer is?'

She laughed, and slapped at the bench beside her. Thump, thump, thump.

'The answer is…'

The answer is…

Thump, thump, thump. Glokta's eyes snapped open. It was still half dark outside. Only a faint glow was coming through the curtains. Who comes belting at the door at this hour? Good news comes in the daylight.

Thump, thump, thump. 'Yes, yes!' he screeched. 'I'm crippled, not deaf! I damn well hear you!'

'Then open the bloody door!' The voice came muffled from the corridor, but there was no mistaking the Styrian note. Vitari, the bitch. Just what one needs in the middle of the night. Glokta did his best to stifle his groans as he carefully disentangled his numb limbs from his sweaty blanket, rolling his head gently from side to side, trying to stretch some movement into his twisted neck, and failing.

Thump, thump. I wonder, when was the last time I had a woman beating down my bedroom door? He snatched his cane from its place, resting against the mattress, then pressed one of his few teeth hard into his lip, grunting softly to himself as he wormed his way down the bed and let one leg flop off onto the boards. He threw himself forward, eyes squeezed shut at a withering pain through his back, and finally reached sitting, gasping as though he had run ten miles. Fear me, fear me, all must fear me! If I can just get out of bed, that is.

Thump. 'I'm coming, damn it!' He footed his cane on the floor and rocked himself up to standing. Careful, careful. The muscles in his mutilated left leg were shaking violently, making his toeless foot twitch and flop like a dying fish. Damn this hideous appendage! It would feel like someone else's, if it didn't hurt so much. But calm, calm, we must be gentle.