A course that Jezal was considering, but he was damned if he'd be bullied into it by this twisted remnant of a man. 'And third?' he enquired, with what he felt was fitting contempt.
'Third?' A particularly disgusting flurry of twitches crawled up the side of Glokta's wasted face. 'I don't think you want to know too much about number three. Let us only say that it will include a long night of passion with a furnace and a set of razors, and an even longer morning involving a sack, an anvil, and the bottom of the canal. You might find that one of the other two options suits you better.'
Before he knew what he was doing Jezal had taken a step forward, forcing Glokta to rock back, wincing, against the wall. 'I do not have to explain myself to you! My visits are between me and the lady in question, but for your information, I long ago resolved to marry her, and am merely waiting for the right moment!' Jezal stood there in the darkness, hardly able to believe what he had heard himself say. Damn his mouth, it still landed him in all manner of trouble.
Glokta's narrow left eye blinked. 'Ah, lucky her.'
Jezal found himself moving forward again, almost butting the cripple in the face and crushing him helpless against the wall. 'That's right! So you can shove your threats up your crippled arse!'
Even squashed against the wall, Glokta's surprise only lasted an instant. Then he leered his toothless grin, his eyelid fluttering and a long tear running down his gaunt cheek. 'Why, Colonel Luthar, it is difficult for me to concentrate with you so very close.' He stroked the front of Jezal's uniform with the back of his hand. 'Especially given your unexpected interest in my arse.' Jezal jerked back, mouth sour with disgust. 'It seems that Bayaz succeeded where Varuz failed, eh? He taught you where your spine is! My congratulations on your forthcoming wedding. But I think I'll keep my razors handy, just in case you don't follow through. I'm so glad we had this chance to talk.' And Glokta limped off towards the stairs, his cane tapping on the boards, his left boot scraping along behind.
'As am I!' shouted Jezal after him. But nothing could have been further from the truth.
Ghosts
« ^ »
Uffrith didn't look much like it used to. Of course, the last time Logen had seen the place had been years ago, at night, after the siege. Crowds of Bethod's Carls wandering the streets—shouting, and singing, and drinking. Looking for folk to rob and rape, setting fire to anything that would hold a flame. Logen remembered lying in that room after he'd beaten Threetrees, crying and gurgling at the pain all through him. He remembered scowling out the window and seeing the glow from the flames, listening to the screams over the town, wishing he was out there making mischief and wondering if he'd ever stand up again.