Joe Abercrombie - Last Argument of Kings

“His Eminence makes a fine point.”

“A sharp curtailment of the powers of the Open Council,” said Halleck.

“Harsh taxes on those who did not provide material support in the recent war.”

“Excellent! Trim the nobles’ sails. Damn parasites.”

“Sweeping reforms. Lands returned to the crown. Levies on inheritance.”

“On inheritance! An inspired notion!”

“The Lord Governors too must be brought into the fold.”

“Skald and Meed. Yes. They have long enjoyed too much independence.”

“Meed can hardly be blamed, his province is a wreck—”

“This is not a question of blame,” said Bayaz. No indeed, we all know where that lies. “This is a question of control. Victory has given us the opportunity for reform.”

“We need to centralise!”

“Westport as well. Too long they have played us off against the Gurkish.”

“They need us now.”

“Perhaps we should extend the Inquisition to their city?” suggested Glokta.

“A foothold in Styria!”

“We must rebuild!” The First of the Magi thumped at the table with one meaty fist. “Better and more glorious even than before. The statues in the Kingsway may have fallen, but they have left space for new ones.”

“A new era of prosperity,” said Halleck, eyes shining.

“A new era of power,” said Hoff, raising his goblet.

“A golden age?” Bayaz looked up the table at Glokta.

“An age of unity and opportunity for all!” said the king.

His offering fell somewhat flat. Eyes swivelled uncomfortably toward the king’s end of the table. Quite as if he noisily farted, rather than spoke. “Er… yes, your Majesty,” said Hoff. “Opportunities.” For anyone lucky enough to sit on the Closed Council, that is.

“Perhaps heavier taxes on the merchant guilds?” proffered Halleck. “As our last Arch Lector had in mind. The banks also. Such a move could produce vast incomes—”

“No,” said Bayaz , offhand. “Not the guilds, not the banks. The free operation of those noble institutions provides wealth and security to all. The future of the nation lies in commerce.”

Halleck humbly inclined his head. With more than a hint of fear, do I detect? “Of course, Lord Bayaz, you are right. I freely admit my mistake.”

The Magus moved smoothly on. “Perhaps the banks would be willing to extend a loan to the crown, however.”

“An excellent idea,” said Glokta without hesitation. “The banking house of Valint and Balk are a trustworthy and long-founded institution. They were of profound value during my attempts to defend Dagoska. I am sure we could count on their help again.” Bayaz’ smile was almost imperceptible. “In the meantime the lands, assets, and titles of the traitor Lord Brock have been requisitioned by the crown. Their sale will raise a considerable sum.”

“And what of the man himself, Arch Lector?”

“It would appear he fled the nation along with the last of the Gurkish. We assume that he is still their… guest.”

“Their puppet, you mean.” Bayaz sucked at his teeth. “Unfortunate. He may continue to be a focus for discontent.”

“Two of his children are under lock and key in the House of Questions. His daughter and one of the sons. An exchange might be possible—”

“Brock? Ha!” barked Hoff. “He wouldn’t swap his own life for the whole world and everything in it.”

Glokta raised his eyebrows. “Then perhaps a demonstration of intent? A clear message that treason will not and will never be tolerated?”

“Never a bad message to send,” growled Bayaz to affirmative mutterings from the old men.

“A public declaration of Brock’s guilt, then, and his responsibility for the ruin of the city of Adua. Accompanied by a pair of hangings.” A shame for them, to have been born to such an ambitious father, but everyone loves a public killing. “Does anyone have a preference for a certain day or—”

“There will be no hangings.” The king was frowning levelly at Bayaz.

Hoff blinked. “But your Majesty, you cannot allow—”

“There has been enough bloodshed. Far more than enough. Release Lord Brock’s children.” There were several sharp intakes of breath around the table. “Allow them to join their father, or remain in the Union as private citizens, as they desire.” Bayaz glared balefully from the far end of the room, but the king did not appear intimidated. “The war is over. We won.” The war never ends, and victory is temporary. “I would rather try to heal wounds than deepen them.” A wounded enemy is the best kind, they are the easiest to kill. “Sometimes mercy buys you more than ruthlessness.”

Glokta cleared his throat. “Sometimes.” Though I myself have yet to see the circumstance.

“Good,” said the king in a voice that brooked no argument. “Then it is decided. Have we other pressing business? I need to make a tour of the hospitals, and then once more to clearing the wreckage.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Hoff gave a sycophantic bow. “Your care for your subjects does you much credit.”

Jezal stared at him for a moment, then snorted, and got up. He had already left the room before most of the old men had struggled to their feet. And I take even longer. When Glokta had finally wrestled his chair out of the way and grimaced to standing, he found Hoff was beside him, a frown on his ruddy face. “We have a small problem,” he muttered.

“Indeed? Something we cannot raise with the rest of the Council?”

“I fear so. Something which, in particular, it would be better not to discuss before his Majesty.” Hoff looked quickly over his shoulder, waited for the last of the old men to pull the heavy door shut behind him and leave the two of them unobserved. Secrets, then? How tremendously exciting. “Our absent Lord Marshal’s sister.”

Glokta frowned. Oh dear. “Ardee West? What of her?”

“I have it on good authority, that she finds herself in… a delicate condition.”

The familiar flurry of twitches ran up the left side of Glokta’s face. “Is that so?” What a shame. “You are remarkably well informed about that lady’s personal business.”

“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—”