Before They Are Hanged by Joe Abercrombie Read Free Book Online

“Your quarters are in the Citadel.” He nodded towards the great rock that loomed up over the city. Of course they are. In the very highest part of the highest building, no doubt. “I’ll show you the way. Lord Governor Vurms and his council will be keen to meet their new Superior.” He turned with a look of some bitterness. Feel you should have got the job yourself, eh? I’m delighted to disappoint you.
    Harker set off into the city at a brisk pace, Practical Frost trudging along beside him, heavy shoulders hunched around his thick neck, sticking to every trace of shade as though the sun were shooting tiny darts at him. Vitari zig-zagged across the dusty street as if it was a dance-floor, peering through windows and down narrow side-streets. Glokta shuffled along doggedly behind, his left leg already starting to burn with the effort.
    “ The cripple shuffled only three strides into the city before he fell on his face, and had to be carried the rest of the way by stretcher, squealing like a half-slaughtered pig and begging for water, while the very citizens he was sent to terrify watched, dumbstruck…”
    He curled his lips back and dug his remaining teeth into his empty gums, forced himself to keep pace with the others, the handle of his cane cutting into his palm, his spine giving an agonising click with every step.
    “This is the Lower City,” grumbled Harker over his shoulder, “where the native population are housed.”
    A giant, boiling, dusty, stinking slum. The buildings were mean and badly maintained: rickety shacks of one storey, leaning piles of half-baked mud bricks. The people were all dark-skinned, poorly dressed, hungry-looking. A bony woman peered out at them from a doorway. An old man with one leg hobbled past on bent crutches. Down a narrow alley ragged children darted between piles of refuse. The air was heavy with the stink of rot and bad sewers. Or no sewers at all. Flies buzzed everywhere. Fat, angry flies. The only creatures prospering here.
    “If I’d known it was such a charming place,” observed Glokta, “I’d have come sooner. Seems the Dagoskans have done well from joining the Union, eh?”
    Harker did not recognise the irony. “They have indeed. During the short time the Gurkish controlled the city, they took many of the leading citizens as slaves. Now, under the Union, they are truly free to work and live as they please.”
    “Truly free, eh?” So this is what freedom looks like. Glokta watched a group of sullen natives crowding round a stall poorly stocked with half-rotten fruit and flyblown offal.
    “Well, mostly.” Harker frowned. “The Inquisition had to weed out a few troublemakers when we first arrived. Then, three years ago, the ungrateful swine mounted a rebellion.” After we gave them the freedom to live like animals in their own city? Shocking. “We got the better of them, of course, but they caused no end of damage. After that they were barred from keeping weapons, or entering the Upper City, where most of the whites live. Since then, things have been quiet. It only goes to show that a firm hand is most effective when it comes to dealing with these primitives.”
    “They built some impressive defences, for primitives.”
    A high wall cut through the city before them, casting a long shadow over the squalid buildings of the slum. There was a wide pit in front, freshly dug and lined with sharpened stakes. A narrow bridge led across to a tall gate, set between looming towers. The heavy doors were open, but a dozen men stood before them: sweating Union soldiers in steel caps and studded leather coats, harsh sun glinting on their swords and spears.
    “A well-guarded gate,” mused Vitari. “Considering that it’s inside the city.”
    Harker frowned. “Since the rebellion, natives have only been allowed within the Upper City if they have a permit.”
    “And who holds a permit?” asked Glokta.
    “Some skilled craftsmen and so forth, still employed by the Guild