Read Before They Are Hanged for Free Online Page B

at the Hall of Whispers, or
straight to my quarters, of course, if I thought I could manage it.
Now I take them to executions. He felt the tiniest of smiles at
the corner of his mouth. Ah well, things change.
    â€œHow will
it be done?â€

The Abode of Stones
    The prow of the
boat crunched hard into the rocky beach and stones groaned and
scraped along the underside. Two of the oarsmen floundered out into
the washing surf and dragged the boat a few steps further. Once it
was firmly grounded they hurried back in as though the water caused
intense pain. Jezal could not entirely blame them. The island at the
edge of the World, the ultimate destination of their journey, the
place called Shabulyan, had indeed a most forbidding appearance.
    A vast mound of
stark and barren rock, the cold waves clutching at its sharp
promontories and clawing at its bare beaches. Above rose jagged
cliffs and slopes of treacherous scree, piled steeply upwards into a
menacing mountain, looming black against the dark sky.
    â€œCare to
come ashore?â€

Back to the Mud
    Dogman and Dow,
Tul and Grim, West and Pike. Six of them, stood in a circle and
looking down at two piles of cold earth. Below in the valley, the
Union were busy burying their own dead, Dogman had seen it. Hundreds
of ’em, in pits for a dozen each. It was a bad day for men, all
in all, and a good one for the ground. Always the way, after a
battle. Only the ground wins.
    Shivers and his
Carls were just through the trees, heads bowed, burying their own.
Twelve in the earth already, three more wounded bad enough they’d
most likely follow before the week was out, and another that’d
lost his hand—might live, might not, depending on his luck.
Luck hadn’t been good lately. Near half their number dead in
one day’s work. Brave of ’em to stick after that. Dogman
could hear their words. Sad words and proud, for the fallen. How
they’d been good men, how they’d fought well, how bad
they’d be missed and all the rest. Always the way, after a
battle. Words for the dead.
    Dogman swallowed
and looked back to the fresh turned dirt at his feet. Tough work
digging, in the cold, ground frozen hard. Still, you’re better
off digging than getting buried, Logen would’ve said, and the
Dogman reckoned that was right enough. Two people he’d just
finished burying, and two parts of himself along with ’em.
Cathil deep down under the piled-up dirt, stretched out white and
cold and would never be warm again. Threetrees not far from her, his
broken shield across his knees and his sword in his fist. Two sets of
hopes Dogman had put in the mud—some hopes for the future, and
some hopes from the past. All done now, and would never come to
nothing, and they left an aching hole in him. Always the way, after a
battle. Hopes in the mud.
    â€œBuried
where they died,â€

Acknowledgments
    Four people
without whom…
    Bren
Abercrombie, whose eyes are sore from reading it
    Nick
Abercrombie, whose ears are sore from hearing about it
    Rob Abercrombic,
whose fingers are sore from turning the pages
    Lou Abercrombie,
whose arms are sore from holding me up

    Also…
    Jon Weir, for
putting the word out
    Simon Spanton,
for not putting the boot in

    And who could
forget…
    Gillian
Redfearn, who not only made it happen, but made it better

    Copyright ©
Joe Abercrombie 2007 All rights reserved
    The right of Joe
Abercrombie to be identified as the author of this work has been
asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988.
    First published
in Great Britain in 2007 by Gollancz
    An imprint of
the Orion Publishing Group
    Orion House, 5
Upper St Martin’s Lane, London WC2H 9EA
    This edition
published in Great Britain in 2008 by Gollancz 13579 10 8642
    A CIP catalogue
record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN
9780575082014
    Typeset at The
Spartan Press Ltd,