A Little Hatred (The Age of Madness #1) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,196

think it is!’

When the gangplank scraped to dry land, Leo made sure he was first across, still walking with a stick, if only to remind everyone he’d been heroically wounded in a noble cause. A man with a balding pink head and a heavy chain of office started towards him. One weak chin had clearly not been weak enough, and he had opted for several spread across his fur-trimmed collar.

‘Your Grace, I am Lord Chamberlain Hoff, son of Lord Chamberlain Hoff.’ He paused, as though expecting gales of laughter. None came. No doubt bureaucrats were a regrettable necessity, like latrines, but Leo didn’t have to like them. Especially when bureaucracy became a family business. ‘And this is—’

‘Bremer dan Gorst!’ He would encounter important people now, of course, but there’s something special about meeting a boyhood hero. Leo had listened for hours to his father’s stories about the man’s exploits at the Battle of Osrung, hanging on every word. How he turned the tide on the bridge single-handed and led the final assault on the Heroes, hacking through Northmen like a butcher through sheep. ‘I once saw you fight three men in an exhibition!’ Leo brushed the lord chamberlain aside to seize the big man’s hand and got a nasty surprise. You can tell a lot about a man from his grip, Leo’s father always said, and Gorst’s was shockingly limp and clammy.

‘Not something I would advise on the battlefield.’ Gorst’s voice was even more shocking than his handshake. Leo wouldn’t have believed so mighty a neck could produce so womanly a tone.

‘I think I once heard we’re related?’ he said as they began to mount up. ‘Fifth cousins or some such.’ Leo tossed his stick to Jurand. He was damned if he’d look like a cripple in front of a man he so much admired. He insisted on dragging himself into the saddle in spite of the pain in his leg, stomach, side, shoulder.

‘How is … your mother?’ came Gorst’s odd squeak.

‘She’s well,’ said Leo, surprised. ‘Happy the war’s over. She was leading the fight when the Northmen first attacked.’ He thought about the light that put him in. ‘Giving me some excellent advice, at least.’

‘She was always highly perceptive.’

‘I knew you saved my father’s life at Osrung. He used to love to tell that story. But I’d no idea you knew my mother.’

Gorst looked a little pained. ‘We were good friends … at one time.’

‘Huh.’ Leo had spent more than enough of his life worrying about his mother’s feelings. He abruptly changed the subject. ‘I would’ve loved to train with you while I’m here, but … I fear I’m in no fit state. Maybe I could observe?’

‘Alas, there will be so many demands on Your Grace’s time,’ said the lord chamberlain, oozing uninvited into their conversation. ‘His Majesty is keen to greet you.’

‘Well … I’m at His Majesty’s disposal, of course.’ Leo gave his horse a nudge and set off at a walk after the two standard-bearers.

‘As are we all, Your Grace. But first His Eminence the Arch Lector wishes to discuss your triumph.’

‘Since when do Inquisitors arrange parades?’

The lord chamberlain delicately cleared his throat. ‘Your Grace will discover there is little that happens in Adua without Arch Lector Glokta’s approval.’

One of the banners at the front of the Young Lion’s grand column had got tangled with a washing line, so they all had to sit in their splendid saddles waiting for it to get untangled. Leo himself could hardly be seen for the fawning gaggle of overpriced arse-lickers. Even Jurand and Glaward had been demoted to trailing after, eased further back with every turn. Seemed the fake adoration of strangers mattered more to Leo than his friends, or his family, or his lover. If that’s what she still was to him. If that’s what she’d ever been.

Rikke raised her brows as a whole column of dark-skinned soldiers tramped out of a side street, gilded standards flashing and spears lowered. Wasn’t until a wagon rattled right through ’em she realised they weren’t there.

‘By the dead.’ She held a hand over her left eye, hot and itching and aching right into her teeth.

‘Still seeing things?’ murmured Isern, jaw chomp-chomping happily on chagga. ‘Take it as proof the moon has marked you special, and rejoice.’

It all made Rikke more than a bit nostalgic for a time when folk just thought she was mad. ‘If this is special, I reckon I’d rather be ordinary.’

‘Aye, well, we all want the things we haven’t