Before They Are Hanged

plainly
visible above the throng, and we have spotted detachments of savages
from every corner of the Kantic continent. A mighty host, perhaps
fifty thousand strong or more, is ranged against us. The Gurkish
Emperor, Uthman-ul-Dosht, bends all his power against our walls, but
we will hold firm.
    You
will hear from me soon. Until then, I serve and obey.
    Sand
dan Glokta,
    Superior
of Dagoska.
    Magister Carlot
dan Eider, head of the Guild of Spicers, sat in her chair, hands in
her lap, and did her best to maintain her dignity. Her skin was pale
and oily, there were dark rings under her eyes. Her white garments
were stained with the dirt of the cells, her hair had lost its sheen
and hung lank and matted across her face. She looked older without
her powder and her jewels, but she still seemed beautiful. More
than ever, in a way. The beauty of the candle flame that has almost
burned out.
    â€œYou look
tired,â€

One of Them
    Ardee smiled at
him, and Jezal smiled back. He grinned like an idiot. He could not
help it. He was so happy to be back where things made sense. Now they
need never be parted. He wanted only to tell her how much he loved
her. How much he missed her. He opened his mouth but she pressed her
finger to his lips. Firmly.
    â€œShhh.â€

PART II
    â€œHe
is not fit for battle that has never seen his own blood flow, who has
not heard his teeth crunch under the blow of an opponent, or felt the
full weight of his adversary upon him.â€

Heading North
    So the Dogman
was just lying there on his face, wet to the skin and trying to keep
still without freezing solid, looking out across the valley from the
trees, and watching Bethod’s army marching. He couldn’t
see that much of them from where he was lying, just a stretch of the
track over a ridge, enough to see the Carls tramping by, painted
shields bright on their backs, mail glistening with specks of melted
snow, spears sticking up high between the tree trunks. Rank after
rank of ’em, marching steady.
    They were a good
way off, but he was taking quite a risk even getting this close.
Bethod was just as careful as ever. He’d got men out all
around, up on the ridges and the high points, anywhere where he
thought someone could get a sight of what he was up to. He’d
sent a few scouts south and some others east, hoping to trick anyone
was watching, but he hadn’t got the Dogman fooled. Not this
time. Bethod was heading back the way he’d come. He was heading
north.
    Dogman breathed
in sharp, and gave a long, sad sigh. By the dead, he felt tired. He
watched the tiny figures filing past through the pine branches. He’d
spent all those years scouting for Bethod, keeping an eye on armies
like this one for him, helping him win battles, helping to make him a
King, though he’d never dreamed it at the time. In some ways
everything had changed. In others it was just the same as ever. Here
he was still, face down in the muck with a sore neck from looking up.
Ten years older and not a day better off. He could hardly remember
what his ambitions used to be, but this hadn’t ever been among
’em, he was sure of that. All that wind blown past, all that
snow fallen, all that water flowed by. All that fighting, all that
marching, all that waste.
    Logen gone, and
Forley gone, and the candle burning down fast on the rest of ’em.
    Grim slithered
through the frozen scrub beside him, propped himself on his elbows
and peered out towards the Carls moving on the road. “Huh,â€

Scant Mercy
    To
Arch Lector Sult,
    Head
of his Majesty’s Inquisition.
    Your
Eminence,
    The
siege of Dagoska continues. Three days in a row the Gurkish have made
assaults against our walls, each one greater in size and
determination. They strive to fill in our channel with boulders, to
cross it with bridges, to scale our walls and bring rams against our
gates. Three times they have attacked and three times we have thrown
them back. Their losses have been heavy, but losses they can well
afford. The Emperor’s soldiers crawl like ants across the
peninsula. Still, our men are bold, our defences are strong, our
resolve is unshakeable, and Union vessels still ply the bay, keeping
us well supplied. Be assured, Dagoska will not fall.
    On a
subject of lesser importance, you will, no doubt, be pleased to learn
that the issue of Magister Eider has been put to rest. I had
suspended her sentence while I considered the