Glokta gave a splutter of disbelieving laughter. 'Is that all?'

The irony was wasted on Mauthis. 'For now. It might be best if you were to leave by the back entrance. My employers will expect news within the week.'

Glokta grimaced as he struggled down the narrow staircase at the back of the building, sideways on like a crab, the sweat standing out from his forehead, and not just from the effort. How could they know? First that I was looking into Prince Raynault's death, against the Arch Lectors orders, and now that I am looking into our Majesty's mother, on the Arch Lector's behalf Assume they know everything, of course, but no one knows anything without being told.

Who… told?

Who asked the questions, about the Prince and about the King? Whose first loyalty is to money? Who has already given me up once to save his skin? Glokta paused for a moment, in the middle of the steps, and frowned. Oh, dear, dear. Is it every man for himself, now? Has it always been?

The pain shooting up his wasted leg was the only reply.

Sweet Victory

« ^ »

West sat, arms crossed upon his saddle-bow, staring numbly up the dusty valley. 'We won,' said Pike, in a voice without emotion. Just the same voice in which he might have said, 'We lost.'

A couple of tattered standards still stood, hanging lifeless. Bethod's own great banner had been torn down and trampled beneath horses' hooves, and now its threadbare frame stuck up at a twisted angle, above the settling fog of dust, like clean-picked bones. A fitting symbol for the sudden fall of the King of the Northmen.

Poulder reined in his horse beside West, smiling primly at the carnage like a schoolmaster at an orderly classroom.

'How did we fare, General?'

'Casualties appear to have been heavy, sir, especially in our front ranks, but the enemy were largely taken by surprise. Most of their best troops were already committed to the attack on the fortress. Once our cavalry got them on the run, we drove them all the way to the walls! Picked their camp clean.' Poulder wrinkled his nose, moustaches trembling with distaste. 'Several hundred of those devilish Shanka we put to the sword, and a much greater number we drove off into the hills to the north, from whence, I do not doubt, they will be greatly reluctant to return. We wrought a slaughter among the Northmen to satisfy King Casamir himself, and the rest have laid down their arms. We guess at five thousand prisoners, sir. Bethod's army has been quite crushed. Crushed!' He gave a girlish chuckle. 'No one could deny that you have well and truly avenged the death of Crown Prince Ladisla today, Lord Marshal!'

West swallowed. 'Of course. Well and truly avenged.'

'A master-stroke, to use our Northmen as a decoy. A bold and a decisive manoeuvre. I am, and will always be, honoured to have played my small part! A famous day for Union arms! Marshal Burr would have been proud to see it!'