High Justice Marovia was framed in the largest window of his echoing office, hands clasped behind his back. His windows faced west. The direction of the main Gurkish assault. Above the rooftops in the distance, columns of dark smoke rose into the pale sky, blending together into a gritty pall that rendered the autumn half-light still more funereal. Marovia turned when he heard Glokta's toeless foot creaking on the dark boards, his lined old face alive with a welcoming smile.

'Ah, Superior Glokta! You cannot imagine my delight to hear you announced! I have missed you since your last visit. I do so enjoy your… forthright style. I do so admire your… commitment to your work.' He flapped one lazy hand towards the window. 'The law, I must admit, tends to be sleepy in times of war. But even with the Gurkish at the gates the noble business of his Majesty's Inquisition continues, eh? I assume you have come once again on behalf of his Eminence?'

Glokta paused. But only out of habit. I must turn my twisted back on the Inquisition. What would Sult call me? A traitor? No doubt, and worse besides. But every man's first loyalty must be to himself. I have made my sacrifices. 'No, your Worship. I have come on behalf of Sand dan Glokta.' He limped up to a chair, slid it out and dumped himself into it without being asked. I am far past the niceties, now. 'Frankly, I need your help.' Frankly, you are my last hope.

'My help? Surely you are not without powerful friends of your own?'

'It is my regrettable experience that powerful men can afford no friends.'

'All too unfortunately true. You do not reach my position, or even yours, without understanding that each man stands alone, in the end.' Marovia gazed down beneficently as he settled into his own tall chair. Though I am far from put at ease. His smiles are every bit as deadly as Sult's frowns, I think. 'Our friends must be those that can make themselves useful to us. With that in mind, what help can I offer you? And more importantly, what can you offer me in return?'

'That may take some explaining.' Glokta winced at a cramp in his leg and forced it out straight under the table. 'May I speak entirely honestly with you, your Worship?'

Marovia stroked thoughtfully at his beard. 'The truth is a very rare and valuable commodity. I am astonished that a man of your experience would simply give it away. Especially to someone on the other side of the fence, so to speak.'

'I was once told that a man lost in the desert must take such water as he is offered, regardless of the source.'

'Lost, are you? Speak honestly, then, Superior, and we will see if I can spare something from my canteen.'

Hardly a promise of succour, but the best I might have hoped for from a man so recently a bitter enemy. And so… my confession. Glokta turned over the memories of the last couple of years in his mind. And a filthy, a shameful, an ugly set they are. Where to begin? 'It is some time ago, now, that I began to examine irregularities in the business of the Honourable Guild of Mercers.'