I suppose that I can. I've had less charming threats, and at least she has better taste than to meet in a pig sty. 'I can simply walk away, then?'

'Did anyone pick up a cane?' No one spoke. Eider gave a happy smile, showing Glokta her perfect white teeth. 'You can crawl away, then. How does that sound?'

Better than floating to the top of the canal after a few days on the bottom, bloated up like a great pale slug and smelling like all the graves in the city. 'As good as I'll get, I suppose. I do wonder, though. What is to stop me having my Practicals follow the scent of expensive perfume after we are done here and finish what they started?'

'It is so very like you to say such a thing.' She sighed. 'I should inform you that an old and trustworthy business acquaintance of mine has a sealed letter in his possession. In the event of my death, it will be sent to the Arch Lector, laying out to him the exact nature of my sentence in Dagoska.'

Glokta sucked sourly at his gums. Just what I need, another knife to juggle. 'And what will occur if, entirely independently from my actions, you succumb to the rot? Or a house falls on you? Or you choke on a slice of bread?'

She opened her eyes very wide, as though the thought had only just occurred. 'In any of those cases… I suppose… the letter would be sent anyway, despite your innocence.' She gave a helpless laugh. 'The world is nothing like as fair a place as it should be, in my opinion, and I daresay that the natives of Dagoska, the enslaved mercenaries, and the butchered Union soldiers who you made fight for your lost cause would concur.' She smiled as sweetly as if they were discussing gardening. 'Things would probably have been far simpler for you if you'd had me strangled, after all.'

'You read my mind.' But it is far too late now. I did a good thing, and so, of course, there is a price to be paid.

'So tell me, before we part ways again, for what, we can both only hope, will be the last time—are you involved with this business of the vote?'

Glokta felt his eye twitch. 'My duties would seem to touch upon it.' Indeed it occupies my every waking hour.

Carlot dan Eider leaned forward to a conspiratorial distance, her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands. 'Who will be the next king of the Union, do you suppose? Will it be Brock? Isher? Will it be someone else?'

'A little early to say. I'm working on it.'