They stared at each other for a long moment, and Glokta was left in no doubt. He is innocent. If he could steal over the wall of the palace and in through the Princes window without being noticed, surely he could have stolen out of the Agriont and away before we were any the wiser? Why stay, and sleep, leaving his bloodstained garment hanging in the cupboard, waiting for us to discover it? A trail of clues so blatant a blind man could follow them. We are being duped, and not even subtly. To punish the wrong man, that is one thing. But to allow myself to be made a fool of? That is another.

'One moment,' murmured Glokta. He struggled out of his chair to the door, shut it carefully behind him, hobbled wincing up the steps to the next room and went in.

'What the hell are you up to in there?' the Arch Lector snarled at him.

Glokta kept his head bowed in a position of deep respect. 'I am trying to establish the truth, your Eminence—'

'You are trying to establish what? The Closed Council are waiting for a confession, and you're blathering about what?

Glokta met the Arch Lector's glare. 'What if he is not lying? What if the Emperor does desire peace? What if he is innocent?'

Sult stared back at him, cold blue eyes wide open with disbelief. 'Did you lose your teeth in Gurkhul or your fucking mind? Who cares a shit for innocent? What concerns us now is what must be done! What concerns us now is what is necessary! What concerns us now is ink on paper you… you…' he was near frothing at the mouth, fists clenching and unclenching with fury, '… you crippled shred of a man! Make him sign, then we can be done with this and get to licking arses in the Open Council!'

Glokta bowed his head still lower. 'Of course, your Eminence.'

'Now is your perverse obsession with the truth going to cause me any more trouble tonight? I'd rather use a needle than a spade, but I'll dig a confession out of this bastard either way! Must I send for Goyle?'

'Of course not, your Eminence.'

'Just get in there, damn you, and make… him… sign!'

Glokta shuffled out of his room, grumbling, stretching his neck to either side, rubbing his sore palms, working his aching shoulders round his ears and hearing the joints click. A difficult interrogation. Severard was sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite, his head resting against the dirty wall. 'Has he signed?'

'Of course.'

'Lovely. Another mystery solved, eh, chief?'

'I doubt it. He's no Eater. Not like Shickel was, anyway. He feels pain, believe me.'

Severard shrugged. 'She said the talents were different for each of them.'