Last Argument Of Kings by Joe Abercrombie Read Free Book Online

'Because you lack the social graces necessary to function for longer than five minutes on your own in such a place as this. Why else? You will be going back to the Agriont, I assume?' he asked Jezal.
    'Yes. Yes, of course.'
    'Well, then. I would like to thank you, Captain Luthar, for the part you played in that little adventure of ours.'
    'How dare you, you magical arsehole? The entire business was a colossal, painful, disfiguring waste of my time, and a failure to boot.' But what Jezal really said was, 'Of course, yes.' He took the old man's hand, preparing to give it a limp shake. 'It has been an honour.'
    Bayaz' grip was shockingly firm. 'That is good to hear.' Jezal found himself drawn very close to the old man's face, staring into his glittering green eyes at unnervingly close quarters. 'We may have the need to collaborate again.'
    Jezal blinked. Collaborate really was an ugly choice of word. 'Well then… er… perhaps I will… see you later?' Never would have been preferable, in his opinion.
    But Bayaz only grinned as he let go of Jezal's buzzing fingers. 'Oh, I feel sure we shall meet again.'
     
    The sun shone pleasantly through the branches of the aromatic cedar, casting a dappled shade on the ground beneath, just as it used to. A pleasant breeze fluttered through the courtyard and the birds twittered in the branches of the trees, just as they always had. The old buildings of the barracks had not changed, crowding in, coated with rustling ivy on all sides of the narrow courtyard. But there the similarity to Jezal's happy memories ended. A dusting of moss had crept up the legs of the chairs, the surface of the table had acquired a thick crust of bird droppings, the grass had gone undipped for weeks on end and seed-heads thrashed at Jezal's calves as he wandered past.
    The players themselves were long gone. He watched the shadows shifting on the grey wood, remembering the sound of their laughter, the taste of smoke and strong spirits, the feel of the cards in his hand. Here Jalenhorm had sat, playing at being tough and manly. Here Kaspa had laughed at jokes at his own expense. Here West had leaned back and shaken his head with resigned disapproval. Here Brint had shuffled nervously at his hand, hoping for big wins that never came.
    And here had been Jezal's place. He dragged the chair out from the clutching grass, sat down in it with one boot up on the table and rocked it onto its rear legs. It seemed hard to believe, now, that he had sat here, watching and scheming, thinking about how best to make his friends seem small. He told himself he would never have engaged in any such foolishness now. No more than a couple of hands, anyway.
    If he had thought that a thorough wash, a careful shave, a plucking of bristles and a long-winded arranging of hair would make him feel at home, he was disappointed. The familiar routines left him feeling like a stranger in his own dusty rooms. It was hard to become excited over the shining of the boots and buttons, or the arrangement of the gold braid just so.
    When he finally stood before the mirror, where long ago he had whiled away so many delightful hours, he found his reflection decidedly unnerving. A lean and weather-worn adventurer stared bright-eyed from the Visserine glass, his sandy beard doing little to disguise the ugly scar down his bent jaw. His old uniforms were all unpleasantly tight, scratchily starched, chokingly constricted round the collar. He no longer felt like he belonged in them to any degree. He no longer felt like a soldier.
    He scarcely even knew who he should report to, after all this time away. Every officer he was aware of, more or less, was with the army in Angland. He supposed he could have sought out Lord Marshal Varuz, had he really wanted to, but the fact was he had learned enough about danger now to not want to rush at it. He would do his duty, if he was asked. But it would have to find him first.
    In the meantime, he had other business to attend to.