Free Last Argument of Kings by Joe Abercrombie Page B

tumbling downwards. “Yes, Ferro, the Maker threw his daughter from the roof. It would seem that we are both unlucky in love, eh? Bad luck for us. Worse luck for our lovers. Who would have dreamed we have so much in common?” Ferro wondered about shoving the pink bastard off the balcony after his tea. But he still owed her, and she meant to collect. So she only scowled, and ducked back through the doorway.
    There was a new arrival in the room. A man with curly hair and a wide smile. He had a tall staff in his hand, a case of weathered leather over one shoulder. There was something strange about his eyes— one light, one dark. There was something about his watchful gaze that made Ferro suspicious. Even more than usual.
    “Ah, the famous Ferro Maljinn. Forgive my curiosity, but it is not every day that one encounters a person of your… remarkable ancestry.”
    Ferro did not like that he knew her name, or her ancestry, or anything about her. “Who are you?”
    “Where are my manners? I am Yoru Sulfur, of the order of Magi,” and he offered his hand. She did not take it but he only smiled. “Not one of the original twelve, of course, not I. Merely an afterthought. A late addition. I was once apprentice to great Bayaz.”
    Ferro snorted. That hardly qualified him for trust in her estimation. “What happened?”
    “I graduated.”
    Bayaz tossed his cup down rattling on a table by the window. “Yoru,” he said, and the newcomer humbly bowed his head. “My thanks for your work thus far. Precise and to the point, as always.”
    Sulfur’s smile grew broader. “A small cog in a large machine, Master Bayaz, but I try to be a sturdy one.”
    “You have yet to let me down. I do not forget that. How is your next little game progressing?”
    “Ready to begin, at your command.”
    “Let us begin now. There is nothing to be gained by delay.”
    “I shall make the preparations. I have also brought this, as you asked.” He swung the bag down from his shoulder and gingerly reached inside. He slowly drew out a book. Large and black, its heavy covers hacked, and scarred, and charred by fire. “Glustrod’s book,” he murmured softly, as though afraid to say the words.
    Bayaz frowned. “Keep it, for now. There was an unexpected complication.”
    “A complication?” Sulfur slid the book back into its case with some relief.
    “What we sought… was not there.”
    “Then—”
    “As regards our other plans, nothing is changed.”
    “Of course.” Sulfur bowed his head again. “Lord Isher will already be on his way.”
    “Very well.” Bayaz glanced over at Ferro, as though he had only just remembered that she was there. “For the time being, perhaps you would be good enough to give us the room? I have a visitor that I must attend to.”
    She was happy to leave, but she took her time moving, if only because Bayaz wanted her gone quickly. She unfolded her arms, stood on the spot and stretched. She strolled to the door by a roundabout route, letting her feet scuff against the boards and fill the room with their ugly scraping. She stopped on the way to gaze at a picture, to poke at a chair, to flick at a shiny pot, none of which interested her at all. All the while Quai watched, and Bayaz frowned, and Sulfur grinned his knowing little grin. She stopped in the doorway.
    “Now?”
    “Yes, now,” snapped Bayaz.
    She looked round the room one more time. “Fucking Magi,” she snorted, and slid through the door.
    She almost walked into a tall old pink in the room beyond. He wore a heavy robe, even in the heat, and had a sparkling chain around his shoulders. A big man loomed behind him, grim and watchful. A guard. Ferro did not like the old pink’s look. He stared down his nose at her, chin tilted up, as though she were a dog.
    As though she were a slave.
    “Ssssss.” She hissed in his face as she shouldered past him. He gave an outraged snort and his guard gave Ferro a hard look. She ignored it. Hard looks mean nothing. If