Best Served Cold

by Joe Abercrombie

Volfier narrowed his eyes at the inner wall. “My old master’s on the other side o’ that. A man I fought my whole life for. Never had any riots when he was in charge.” “Wish you were with him?” Volfier frowned sideways. “I wish we’d won at Ospria, then the choice wouldn’t have come up. But then I wish my wife hadn’t fucked the baker while I was away in the Union on campaign three years ago. Wishing don’t change nothing.” Shivers grinned, and tapped at his metal eye with a fingernail. “That there is a fact.”

“Do you know why I always loved you, Monza?” “Eh?” Her eyes flickered to him, surprised. “Even after you betrayed me? More, after you betrayed me?” Cosca leaned slowly towards her. “Because I know you don’t really believe any of that rubbish. Those are the lies you tell yourself so you can live with what you’ve done. What you’ve had to do.” There was a long pause. Then she swallowed as though she was about to puke. “You always said I had a devil in me.” “Did I? Well, so do we all.” He waved a hand. “You’re no saint, that much we know. A child of a bloody time. But you’re nothing like as dark as you make out.” “No?” “I pretend to care for the men, but in truth I don’t give a damn whether they live or die. You always did care, but you pretend not to give a damn. I never saw you waste one man’s life. And yet they like me better. Hah. There’s justice. You always did the right thing by me, Monza. Even when you betrayed me, it was better than I deserved. I’ve never forgotten that time in Muris, after the siege, when you wouldn’t let the slavers have those children. Everyone wanted to take the money. I did. Faithful did. Even Benna. Especially Benna. But not you.” “Only gave you a scratch,” she muttered. “Don’t be modest, you were ready to kill me. These are ruthless times we live in, and in ruthless times, mercy and cowardice are entire opposites. We all turn to shit when we die, Monza, but not all of us are shit while we’re alive. Most of us are.” His eyes rolled to heaven. “Go...

“Monza will be going with them. She wants to be the first to Orso. Entirely determined. She’s set firm on vengeance.” Friendly shrugged. She always had been. “In all honesty, I worry for her.” Friendly shrugged. He was indifferent. “A battle is a dangerous place.” Friendly shrugged. That seemed obvious.

There were a few grunts, some calls of “steady” and the rest, but a quiet rush, on the whole. It wouldn’t have seemed right, really, giving your war cry while you ran at a wall. What do you do when you get there? You can’t keep shouting all the way up a ladder.

Never fight your own battles, Verturio wrote, if someone else is willing to fight them for you.

“The world changes, alters, is born anew and presents a different face each day! A man never knows what each moment will bring!” Friendly hated change. The only thing he hated more was not knowing what each moment might bring.