He heard armoured boots tramping down the road behind him, shuffled too late out of the way of a hurrying column of soldiers and was barged roughly onto the grassy verge, left foot sliding in the mud and sending a stab of agony up his leg. The column clattered past, heedless, and Glokta grimaced after them. People no longer have the proper level of fear for the Inquisition. They are all a great deal too afraid of the Gurkish for that. He stepped away from the wall with a wince and a curse, stretched his neck out and carried on limping.

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?'