The envoy leaned forwards across the table, as far as he could with his hands chained behind him, and spoke swift and low. 'Please attend to me, Superior. If the Prophet's agents have discovered my mission—and they discover everything sooner or later—they will stop at nothing to make it fail. You know what they are capable of. If you punish me for this crime, it will be an insult to the Emperor. You will slap away his hand of friendship, and slap him in the face besides. He will swear vengeance, and when Uthman-ul-Dosht has sworn… my life means nothing, but my mission cannot fail. The consequences… for both our nations… please, Superior, I beg of you… I know you for an open-minded man—'

'An open mind is like to an open wound,' growled Glokta. 'Vulnerable to poison. Liable to fester. Apt to give its owner only pain.' He nodded to Frost and the albino placed the paper of confession carefully on the table top and slid it towards Tulkis with his white fingertips. He put the bottle of ink beside it and flipped open the brass lid. He placed the pen nearby. All neat and crisp as a Sergeant-Major could wish for.

'This is your confession.' Glokta waved his hand at the paper. 'In case you were wondering.'

'I am not guilty,' muttered Tulkis, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

Glokta twitched his face in annoyance. 'Have you ever been tortured?'

'No.'

'Have you ever seen torture carried out?'

The envoy swallowed. 'I have.'

'Then you have some inkling of what to expect.' Frost lifted the lid on Glokta's case. The trays inside lifted and fanned out like a huge and spectacular butterfly unfurling its wings for the first time, exposing Glokta's instruments in all their glittering, hypnotic, horrible beauty. He watched Tulkis' eyes fill with fear and fascination.

'I am the very best there is at this.' Glokta gave a long sigh and clasped his hands before him. 'It is not a matter for pride. It is a matter of fact. You would not be with me now if it were otherwise. I tell you so you can have no doubts. So you can answer my next question with no illusions. Look at me.' He waited for Tulkis' dark eyes to meet his. 'Will you confess?'

There was a pause. 'I am innocent,' whispered the ambassador.

'That was not my question. I will ask it again. 'Will you confess?'

'I cannot.'