'Huh.' Above us, not ten strides distant, are some of the most fashionable addresses in the city. The shimmering palaces and a river of shit, so much closer together than most would ever like to believe. Everything beautiful has a dark side, and some of us must dwell there, so that others can laugh in the light. His snort of laughter turned to a squeak of panic as his toeless foot slid on the sticky walkway. He flailed at the wall with his free hand, fumbled his cane and it clattered to the slimy stones. Ardee caught his elbow before he fell and pulled him upright. He could not stop a girlish whimper of pain hissing out from the gaps in his teeth.

'You're really not enjoying yourself, are you?'

'I've had better days.' He smacked the back of his head against the stone as Ardee leaned down to retrieve his cane. 'To be betrayed by both,' he found himself muttering. 'That hurts. Even me. One I expected. One I could have taken. But both? Why?'

'Because you're a ruthless, plotting, bitter, twisted, self-pitying villain?' Glokta stared at her, and she shrugged. 'You asked.' They set off once again through the nauseating darkness.

'The question was meant to be rhetorical.'

'Rhetoric? In a sewer?'

'Wait up, there!' Cosca held up his hand and the grumbling procession shuffled to a halt again. A sound filtered down from above, softly at first, then louder—the rhythmic boom of tramping feet, seeming to come, disconcertingly, from everywhere at once. Cosca pressed himself to the sticky wall, stripes of daylight falling across his face from a grate above, the long feather on his cap drooping with slime. Voices settled through the murk. Kantic voices. Cosca grinned, and jabbed one finger up towards the roof. 'Our old friends the Gurkish. Those bastards don't give up, eh?'

'They've moved quickly,' grunted Glokta as he tried to catch his breath.

'No one much fighting in the streets any more, I imagine. All pulled back to the Agriont, or surrendered.'

Surrendering to the Gurkish. Glokta winced as he stretched out his leg. Rarely a good idea, and not one a man I would ever consider twice. 'We must hurry, then. Move along there, Brother Longfoot!'

The Navigator hobbled on. 'Not much further, now! I have not led you wrong, oh no, not I! That would not have been my way. We are close now, to the moat, very close. If there is a way inside the walls, I will find it, on that you may depend. I will have you inside the walls in a—'

'Shut your mouth and get on with it,' growled Glokta.