“It is my duty to be so.” Hoff leaned close and blasted Glokta with wine-stinking breath as he whispered. “When you consider who the father might very well be.”

“And that is?” Though I think we both already guess the answer.

“Who else but the king?” hissed Hoff under his breath, a note of panic in his voice. “You must be well aware that they were involved in… a liaison, to put it delicately, prior to his coronation. It is scarcely a secret. Now this? A bastard child! When the king’s own claim to the throne is not of the purest? When he has so many enemies still on the Open Council? Such a child could be used against us, if it became known of, and it will, of course!” He leaned closer yet. “Such a thing would constitute a threat to the state.”

“Indeed,” said Glokta icily. All too unfortunately true. What a terrible, terrible shame.

Hoff’s fat fingers fussed nervously with each other. “I realise that you have some association with the lady and her family. I understand entirely if this is one responsibility that you would rather be free of. I can make the arrangements with no—”

Glokta flashed his craziest grin. “Are you implying that I lack sufficient ruthlessness for the murder of a pregnant mother, Lord Chamberlain?” His voice bounced loud from the hard white walls, merciless as a knife-thrust.

Hoff winced, his eyes darting nervously towards the door. “I am sure you would not flinch from any patriotic duty—”

“Good. You may rest easy, then. Our mutual friend did not select me for this role because of my soft heart.” Anything but. “I will deal with the matter.”

The same small, brick-built house in the same unremarkable street that Glokta had visited so often before. The same house where I spent so many enjoyable afternoons. As close as I have come to comfort since I was dragged drooling from the Emperor’s prisons. He slid his right hand into his pocket, felt the cold metal brush against his fingertips. Why do I do this? Why? So that drunken arsehole Hoff can mop his brow at a calamity averted? So that Jezal dan Luthar can sit a hair more secure on his puppet throne? He twisted his hips one way and then the other until he felt his back click. She deserves so much better. But such is the terrible arithmetic of power.

He pushed back the gate, hobbled up to the front door, and gave it a smart knock. It was a moment before the cringing maid answered. Perhaps the one who alerted our court drunkard Lord Hoff to the unfortunate situation? She showed him through into the over-furnished sitting room with little more than a mumble and left him there, staring at a small fire in the small grate. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the fireplace, and frowned.

Who is that man? That ruined shell? That shambling corpse? Can you even call it a face? So twisted and so lined, so etched with pain. What is this loathsome, pitiable species? Oh, if there is a God, protect me from this thing!

He tried to smile. Savage grooves cut through his corpse-pale skin, the hideous gap in his teeth yawned. The corner of his mouth trembled, his left eye twitched, narrower than the other, rimmed with angry red. The smile seems to promise horrors more surely even than the frown.

Has any man ever looked more of a villain? Has any man ever been more of a monster? Could any vestige of humanity possibly remain behind such a mask? How did beautiful Sand dan Glokta become… this? Mirrors. Even worse than stairs. His lip curled with disgust as he turned away.

Ardee stood in the doorway, watching him in silence. She looked well, to his mind, once he got over the awkward surprise of being observed. Very well, with perhaps the slightest swelling about her stomach already? Three months along now? Four perhaps? Soon there will be no disguising it.

“Your Eminence.” She gave him an appraising glance as she stepped into the room. “White suits you.”

“Truly? You do not feel it makes the skull-like rings about my feverish eyes look all the darker?”

“Why, not at all. It perfectly matches your ghoulish pallor.”

Glokta leered his toothless grin. “The very effect I was hoping for.”

“Have you come to take me on another tour of sewers, death and torture?”

“A repeat of that performance will probably never be possible, alas. I seem to have used up all my friends and most of my enemies in that one throw.”

“And regrettably the Gurkish army can no longer be with us.”

“Busy elsewhere, I understand.” He watched her cross to the table, look out of the window towards the street, the daylight glowing through her dark air, down the edge of her cheek.

“I trust that you are well?” she asked.

“Busier even than the Gurkish. A great deal to do. How is your brother? I have been meaning to visit him, but…” But I doubt even I could stand the stink of my own hypocrisy if I did. I cause pain. The easing of it is a foreign tongue to me.

Ardee looked at her feet. “He is always sick now. Every time I visit he is thinner. One of his teeth fell out while I was with him.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It just came out while he was trying to eat. He nearly choked on it. But what can I do? What can anyone?”

“I am truly sorry to hear it.” But it changes nothing. “I am sure that you are a great help to him.” I am sure that there can be no help for him. “And how are you?”

“Better than most, I suppose.” She gave a long sigh, shook herself and tried to smile. “Will you take some wine?”

“No, but don’t let me stop you.” I know you never have.

But she only held the bottle for a moment, then set it down again. “I have been trying to drink less, lately.”

“I have always felt that you should.” He took a slow step towards her. “You feel sick, then, in the mornings?”

She looked sharply sideways, then swallowed, the thin muscles standing out from her neck. “You know?”

“I am the Arch Lector,” he said as he came closer. “I am supposed to know everything.”

Her shoulders sagged, her head dropped, she leaned forwards, both hands on the edge of the table. Glokta could see her eyelids fluttering, from the side. Blinking back the tears. For all of her anger, and her cleverness, she just as much in need of saving as anyone could be. But there is no one to come to the rescue. There is only me.

“I suppose I made quite a mess of things, just as my brother said I would. Just as you said I would. You must be disappointed.”

Glokta felt his face twisting. Something like a smile, perhaps. But not much joy in it. “I’ve spent most of my life disappointed. But not in you. It’s a hard world. No one gets what they deserve.” How long must we drag this out before we find the courage? It will not get any easier to do it. It must be now.

“Ardee…” his voice sounded rough in his own ears. He took another limping step, his palm sweaty on the handle of his cane. She looked up at him, wet eyes gleaming, one hand on her stomach. She moved as if to take a step back. A trace of fear, perhaps? And who can blame her? Can it be that she guesses at what is coming?

“You know that I have always had a great liking and respect for your brother.” His mouth was dry, his tongue slurped awkwardly against his empty gums. Now is the time. “Over the past months I have developed a great liking and respect for you.” A flurry of twitches ran up the side of his face and made a tear leak from his flickering eye. Now, now. “Or… as close to such feelings as a man like myself can come, at least.” Glokta slid his hand into his pocket, carefully, so she would not notice. He felt the cold metal, the hard, merciless edges brushing against his skin. It must be now. His heart was pounding, his throat so tight that he could barely speak. “This is difficult. I am… sorry.”