'It's persistent,' muttered Vitari, shoving her back against the wall with her boot. 'You'd have to give it that.'

'Fools!' hissed Shickel. 'You cannot resist what comes! God's right hand is falling upon this city, and nothing can save it! All your deaths are already written!' A particularly bright detonation flared across the sky, casting orange light onto the Practicals' masked faces. A moment later the thunder of it echoed around the room. Shickel began to laugh, a crazy, grating cackle. 'The Hundred Words are coming! No chains can bind them, no gates can keep them out! They are coming!'

'Perhaps.' Glokta shrugged. 'But they will come too late for you.'

'I am dead already! My body is nothing but dust! It belongs to the Prophet! Try as you might, you will learn nothing from me!'

Glokta smiled. He could almost feel the warmth of the flames, far below, on his face.

'That sounds like a challenge.'