Azrok

“Broken hearts heal with time, but broken teeth never do.”
― Joe Abercrombie, The Blade Itself

“People love to see death. It reminds them that however mean, however low, however horrible their lives become… at least they have one.”
― Joe Abercrombie, Before They Are Hanged

“Treat a man like a dog and sooner or later he’ll bite you,”
― Joe Abercrombie, The Blade Itself

“In a manner of speaking, your Eminence.' Glokta kept his tone as servile as he
possibly could. 'I received some rather… troubling information recently.'
Sult scowled, and nodded his head at the papers. 'More troubling than this?'
Equally, at any rate. After all, whoever wins the vote will have but a brief
celebration if the Gurkish arrive and slaughter the lot of us a week later. 'It has
been suggested to me… that the Gurkish are preparing to invade Midderland.'
There was a brief, uncomfortable pause. Scarcely a promising reception, but
we have set sail now. What else to do but steer straight for the storm? 'Invade?'
sneered Goyle. 'With what?'
'It is not the first time I have been told they have a fleet.' Trying desperately to
patch my foundering vessel. 'A considerable fleet, built in secret, after the last war.
We could easily make some preparations, then if the Gurkish do come—'
'And what if you are wrong?' The Arch Lector was frowning mightily. 'From
whom did this information come?'
Oh, dear me no, that would never do. Carlot dan Eider? Alive? But how? Body
found floating by the docks… 'An anonymous source, Arch Lector.'
'Anonymous?' His Eminence glowered through narrowed eyes. 'And you
would have me go to the Closed Council, at a time like this, and put before them
the unproven gossip of your anonymous source?' The waves swamp the deck…
'I merely wished to alert your Eminence to the possibility—'
'When are they coming?' The torn sailcloth flaps in the gale…
'My informant did not—'
'Where will they land?' The sailors topple screaming from the rigging…
'Again, your Eminence I cannot—'
'What will be their numbers?' The wheel breaks off in my shaking hands…
Glokta winced, and decided not to speak at all.
'Then kindly refrain from distracting us with rumours,' sneered Sult, his lip
twisted with contempt. The ship vanishes beneath the merciless waves, her cargo
of precious warnings consigned to the deep, and her captain will not be missed.
'We have more pressing concerns than a legion of Gurkish phantoms!'
'Of course, your Eminence.' And if the Gurkish come, who will we hang? Oh,
Superior Glokta, of course. Why ever did that damn cripple not speak up?
Sult's mind had already slipped back into its well-worn circles. 'We have
thirty-one votes and Marovia has something over twenty. Thirty-one. Not enough
to make the difference.' He shook his head grimly, blue eyes darting over the
papers. As if there were some new way to look at them that would alter the terrible
mathematics. 'Nowhere near enough.'
'Unless we were to come to an understanding with High Justice Marovia.'
Again, a pause, even more uncomfortable than last time. Oh dear. I must have said
that out loud.
'An understanding?' hissed Sult.
'With Marovia?' squealed Goyle, his eyes bulging with triumph. When the safe
options are all exhausted, we must take risks. Is that not what I told myself as I
rode down to the bridge, while the Gurkish massed upon the other side? Ah well,
once more into the tempest…
Glokta took a deep breath. 'Marovia's seat on the Closed Council is no safer
than anyone else's. We may have been working against each other, but only out of
habit. On the subject of this vote our aims are the same. To secure a weak
candidate and maintain the balance. Together you have more than fifty votes. That
might well be enough to tip the scales.'
Goyle sneered his contempt. 'Join forces with that peasant-loving hypocrite?
Have you lost your reason?'
'Shut up, Goyle.' Sult glared at Glokta for a long while, his lips pursed in
thought. Considering my punishment, perhaps? Another tongue-lashing? Or a real
lashing? Or my body found floating— 'You are right. Go and speak to Marovia.'
Sand dan Glokta, once more the hero! Goyle's jaw hung open. 'But… your
Eminence!”
― Joe Ambercrombie