Джо Аберкромби - A Little Hatred - Book One (The Age of Madness)

‘You know I did, Your Eminence.’

‘You have seen humanity in the raw.’

‘About as raw as it gets, Your Eminence.’

‘So tell me. These good people. If they get a little more, what will they want then?’

Vick paused a moment, but there was nothing else to say. ‘A little more.’

‘Because that is the nature of people. And their little more must be taken from someone else, and that someone else will be less than delighted. One cannot eliminate unhappiness any more than one can eliminate darkness. The goal of government, you see,’ and the Arch Lector prodded at the air with his bony forefinger, ‘is to load the unhappiness onto those least able to make you suffer for it.’

‘What if you misjudge who can make you suffer?’

‘Misjudgement is as much a part of life as unhappiness. It is nice to hold the power and make the choices for everyone. But the risk of making any choice is always that you might make the wrong one. We must make our choices nonetheless. Fear of being a grown-up is a poor reason to remain a child.’

‘Of course, Your Eminence.’ There’s only so much you can do. Then you move on. The camps had taught her that lesson, too.

‘Where did they get the Gurkish Fire?’

‘They spoke of friends in Valbeck.’

‘More Breakers?’

‘A more organised group, perhaps. They mentioned the Weaver.’

Glokta gave no reaction to the name. But then he buried his feelings even more deeply than Vick did. If he still had any. However hard the camps, they were soft beside the place where he learned his lessons.

‘Valbeck is a large city,’ he said, ‘and growing every day. New mills. New slums. But it is somewhere to start. I shall ask your friends about their friends in Valbeck, and see if we can learn any more about this … Weaver.’

Just one more try, maybe. Vick sat forward, clasping her hands. ‘With your permission – I think the boy Tallow might be turned.’

‘You can ensure his loyalty?’

‘He has a sister. With her in custody …’

The Arch Lector flashed that toothless smile. ‘Very well. You can go next door and deliver him from his chains. I am glad someone will get good news tonight. No doubt you will want to be on your way to Valbeck. To rip this conspiracy up by the roots.’

‘I am eager to begin, Your Eminence.’

‘Don’t work too hard. Practical Dole!’ The door flew open, the hulking Practical almost filling the frame. ‘Wheel me out, would you?’ Dole fished up the wedge, wheels squeaking as he pulled the chair away, but Glokta stopped him in the doorway with a raised finger and looked back. ‘You did the right thing.’

‘I know, Your Eminence,’ she said, meeting his sunken eyes. ‘I’ve no doubts.’

When you tell a lie, you have to sound like you believe it.

Goes double for the ones you tell yourself.

Tallow stared at her with those big eyes, manacled hands on the table and his scrawny shoulders hunched around his ears. He really did look like her brother. There were no marks on him yet. That was something, she supposed.

‘Did you escape from them?’ he whispered.

Vick gave a sad smile as she sat down opposite him, in the chair for the one who asks the questions. ‘No one escapes from them.’

‘Then—’

‘I am them.’

He looked at her for a long moment, and she wondered if he might scream insults at her. If he might kick and scratch and go wild. But he was too clever or too scared. He just looked down at the stained tabletop and said, ‘Oh.’

‘Do you know who I was just talking to, next door?’

Tallow slowly shook his head.

‘His Eminence the Arch Lector.’

Those eyes went even bigger. ‘Here?’

‘In his crippled person. You’re a lucky boy. You’ve never seen him work. I have.’ And she gave a long, soft whistle. ‘Old Sticks, well, he’ll be winning no footraces. But when it comes to making folk talk, believe me, there’s no one faster. My guess is your friend Grise will already be telling him everything she knows about everything.’

‘She’s strong,’ he said.

‘No, she’s not. But it doesn’t matter. Once you’re stripped and alone and he starts cutting, there’s no strong that’s strong enough.’

Tallow blinked, tears glistening in his eyes. ‘But she’s—’

‘Put her out of your mind. She’s already hanged. Moor’s dead, and Sibalt …’ Her throat was tight of a sudden.

‘Sibalt?’

‘He’s dead, too.’

‘You say it like you’re proud.’

‘I’m not. But I’m not ashamed, either. They made their choice, you heard me ask them. Just like I asked you.’

Tallow paused a moment, licking his lips. No fool, this lad. ‘Grise is hanged, but … not me?’

‘You catch on fast. For you there’s a door still open. For you … and your sister.’ He blinked at that. Poor little bastard would’ve been the worst card player in the Union. It was as if his every feeling were written on his pinched-in face. ‘I told His Eminence maybe you could be saved. Maybe you could be of service to the king.’

‘What kind of service?’

‘Whatever kind I pick.’

He looked down at the table. ‘Betraying my brothers.’

‘I expect so.’

‘What choices do I have?’

‘Just this one, and you’re damn lucky to be getting it.’

Now he looked up, a little unexpected hardness in his eyes. ‘Then why even ask?’

‘So you understand what you owe me.’ She got up, slipping the key out, and unlocked his chains. Then she tossed him his clothes. ‘Get dressed. Then get some sleep. We’ll be leaving for Valbeck in the morning. Need to know where those dullards got three barrels of Gurkish Fire.’

Tallow just sat there, skinny wrists still in the open manacles. ‘Was any of it true?’

‘Any of what?’

‘What you told us?’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘A good liar lies as little as possible.’

‘So … you really did grow up in the camps?’

‘Twelve years. Girl and woman. My parents and my sisters died there.’ She swallowed. ‘My brother, too.’

He looked at her as if he didn’t understand. ‘You’ve lost as much as anyone.’

‘More than most.’

‘Then how can you—’

‘Because if I learned one thing in the camps …’ She leaned down over him, baring her teeth, making him shrink back into his chair. ‘It’s that you stand with the winners.’

The Machinery of State

‘Lord Marshal Brint,’ said Orso. ‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice. I know you must be a very busy man.’

‘Of course, Your Highness.’ The lord marshal had one arm and no imagination, everything from his highly polished cavalry boots to his highly waxed moustache stiff, starched and according to regulation. ‘Your father is an old friend.’

‘Not to mention the High King of the Union.’

The marshal’s smile slipped just a fraction. ‘Not to mention that. How can I help?’

‘I wish to speak to you concerning our response to the attack by Scale Ironhand and his Northmen.’

Brint gave a bitter snort. ‘I only wish there’d be one! Those money-grubbing swindlers on the Closed Council refuse to release the funds. Can you believe it?’

‘I cannot. But I have managed to persuade my father to give me command of an expeditionary force.’

‘You have?’

‘Well—’

‘That’s excellent news!’ The lord marshal sprang up, pacing to his maps, passing a highly polished suit of armour which he must have worn in his youth, if at all, as it still had both its arms. ‘We’ll show these Northern bastards something, I can tell you!’

Orso had feared a career soldier might be upset to see a prince placed in command, but Brint looked positively delighted. ‘I realise I am without military experience, Lord Marshal, unless playing with toy soldiers as a boy counts.’ Or fucking whores in uniform, of course.