The High Justice laughed. 'Perhaps you are right. But things will change. This rebellion has convinced me of it. Things will change, by small steps.'

'I am sure Lord Brock on the throne is one small step none of us would like to see taken.'

'Lord Brock does indeed have very strong opinions, mostly relating to himself. You make a convincing case, Superior.' Marovia sat back in his chair, hands resting on his belly, staring at Glokta through narrowed eyes. 'Very well. You may tell Arch Lector Sult that this once we have common cause. If a neutral candidate with sufficient support presents themselves, I will have my votes cast along with his. Who could have thought it? The Closed Council united.' He slowly shook his head. 'Strange times indeed.'

'They certainly are, your Worship.' Glokta struggled to his feet, wincing as he put his weight on his burning leg, and shuffled across the gloomy, echoing space towards the door. Strange, though, that our High Justice is so philosophical on the subject of losing his position tomorrow. I have scarcely ever seen a man look calmer. He paused as he touched the handle of the door. One would almost suppose that he knows something we do not. One might almost suppose that he already has a plan in mind.

He turned back. 'Can I trust you, High Justice?'

Marovia looked sharply up, the carving knife poised in his hand. 'What a beautifully quaint question from a man in your line of work. I suppose that you can trust me to act in my own interests. Just as far as I can trust you to do the same. Our deal goes no further than that. Nor should it. You are a clever man, Superior, you make me smile.' And he turned back to his joint of meat, prodding at it with a fork and making the blood run. 'You should find another master.'

Glokta shuffled out. A charming suggestion. But I already have two more than I'd like.

The prisoner was a scrawny, sinewy specimen, naked and bagged as usual, with hands manacled securely behind his back. Glokta watched as Frost dragged him into the domed room from the cells, his stumbling bare feet flapping against the cold floor.

'He wasn't too hard to get a hold of,' Severard was saying. 'He left the others a while ago, but he's been hanging round the city like the smell of piss ever since. We picked him up yesterday night.'