'Oh, I'm afraid not. Two girls and a boy? Beautiful, flaming red hair, just like their mother's?' Which gate would they go through? The Gurkish came from the west, so… 'They were stopped at the east gate, and taken into custody.' Glokta stuck out his bottom lip. 'Protective custody. These are dangerous times for children to be wandering the streets, you know.'

Even with her mask on Glokta could see her horror. 'When?' she hissed.

When would a loving mother send her children to safety? 'Why, the very day the Gurkish arrived, of course, you know that.' The way her eyes widened told him that he had guessed right. Now to twist the blade. 'Don't worry though, they're tucked up safe. Practical Severard is acting as nurse. But if I don't come back…'

'You wouldn't hurt them.'

'What is it with everyone today? Lines I won't cross? People I won't hurt?' Glokta showed his most revolting leer. 'Children? Hope, and prospects, and all that happy life ahead of them? I despise the little bastards!' He shrugged his twisted shoulders. 'But perhaps you know me better. If you're keen to play dice with your children's lives, I suppose we can find out. Or we could reach an understanding, as we did in Dagoska.'

'Shit on this,' growled one of the Practicals, hefting his axe and taking a step forward. And the atmosphere of violence lurches another dizzy step towards the brink…

Vitari shoved out her open hand. 'Don't move.'

'You've got children, so what? Means nothing to me. It'll mean nothing to Sult eeeeeee—' There was a flash of metal, the jingling of a chain, and the Practical staggered forward, blood pouring from his opened throat.

Vitari's cross-shaped knife slapped back into her palm and her eyes flicked back to Glokta. 'An understanding?'

'Exactly. You stay here. We go past. You didn't see nothing, as they say in the older parts of town. You know well enough that you can't trust Sult. He left you to the dogs in Dagoska, didn't he? And he's all done, anyway. The Gurkish are knocking at the door. Time we tried something new, don't you think?'

Vitari's mask shifted as she worked her mouth. Thinking, thinking. The eyes of her killers sparkled, the blades of their weapons glinted. Don't call the bluff, bitch, don't you dare…

'Alright!' She gestured with her arm and the Practicals edged unhappily back, still glaring at the mercenaries across the room. Vitari nodded her spiky head towards a doorway at the end of the chamber. 'Down that hall, down the stairs at the end, and there's a door. A door with black iron rivets.'

'Excellent.' A few words can be more effective than a lot of blades, even in such times as these. Glokta began to hobble away, Cosca and his men following.