The Blade Itself Read Online Free PDF

The Arch Lector paused for a long moment. “I want you to arrest Sepp dan Teufel.”
    Glokta frowned. Teufel? “The Master of the Mints, your Eminence?”
    “The very same.”
    The Master of the Royal Mints. An important man from an important family. A very big fish, to be hooked in my little tank. A fish with powerful friends. It could be dangerous, arresting a man like that. It could be fatal. “May I ask why?”
    “You may not. Let me worry about the whys. You concentrate on obtaining a confession.”
    “A confession to what, Arch Lector?”
    “Why, to corruption and high treason! It seems our friend the Master of the Mints has been most indiscreet in some of his personal dealings. It seems he has been taking bribes, conspiring with the Guild of Mercers to defraud the King. As such, it would be very useful if a ranking Mercer were to name him, in some unfortunate connection.”
    It can hardly be a coincidence that I have a ranking Mercer in my interrogation room, even as we speak. Glokta shrugged. “Once people start talking, it’s shocking the names that tumble out.”
    “Good.” The Arch Lector waved his hand. “You may go, Inquisitor. I will come for Teufel’s confession this time tomorrow. You had better have it.”
    Glokta breathed slowly as he laboured back along the corridor.
    Breath in, breath out. Calm. He had not expected to leave that room alive. And now I find myself moving in powerful circles. A personal task for the Arch Lector, squeezing a confession to high treason from one of the Unions most trusted officials. The most powerful of circles, but for how long? Why me? Because of my results? Or because I won’t be missed?

    “I apologise for all the interruptions today, really I do, it’s like a brothel in here with all the coming and going.” Rews twisted his cracked and swollen lips into a sad smile. Smiling at a time like this, he’s a marvel. But all things must end. “Let us be honest, Rews. No one is coming to help you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. You will confess. The only choices you have are when, and the state you’ll be in when you do. There’s really nothing to be gained by putting it off. Except pain. We’ve got lots of that for you.”
    It was hard to read the expression on Rews’ bloody face, but his shoulders sagged. He dipped the pen in the ink with a trembling hand, wrote his name, slightly slanted, across the bottom of the paper of confession. I win again. Does my leg hurt any less? Do I have my teeth back? Has it helped me to destroy this man, who I once called a friend? Then why do I do this? The scratching of the nib on the paper was the only reply.
    “Excellent,” said Glokta. Practical Frost turned the document over. “And this is the list of your accomplices?” He let his eye scan lazily over the names. A handful of junior Mercers, three ship’s captains, an officer of the city watch, a pair of minor customs officials. A tedious recipe indeed. Let us see if we can add some spice. Glokta turned it around and pushed it back across the table. “Add Sepp dan Teufel’s name to the list, Rews.”
    The fat man looked confused. “The Master of the Mints?” he mumbled, through his thick lips.
    “That’s the one.”
    “But I never met the man.”
    “So?” snapped Glokta. “Do as I tell you.” Rews paused, mouth a little open. “Write, you fat pig.” Practical Frost cracked his knuckles.
    Rews licked his lips. “Sepp… dan… Teufel,” he mumbled to himself as he wrote.
    “Excellent.” Glokta carefully shut the lid on his horrible, beautiful instruments. “I’m glad for both our sakes that we won’t be needing these today.”
    Frost snapped the manacles shut on the prisoner’s wrists and dragged him to his feet, started to march him toward the door at the back of the room. “What now?” shouted Rews over his shoulder.
    “Angland, Rews, Angland. Don’t forget to pack something warm.” The door cracked shut behind him. Glokta looked at