Ardee gave her crooked smile. 'Even commoners' daughters are saying the king cannot live long.'

'Well, well,' and Glokta raised his eyebrows. 'Once the commoners' daughters start saying a thing, you know it must be true.'

'Who are the favourites?'

'Why don't you tell me who the favourites are?'

'Alright, then, I will.' She sat back, one fingertip rubbing thoughtfully at her jaw. 'Brock, of course.'

'Of course.'

'Then Barezin, I suppose, Heugen, and Isher.'

Glokta nodded. She's no fool. 'They're the big four. Who else, do we think?'

'I suppose Meed sunk his chances when he lost to the Northmen. What about Skald, the Lord Governor of Starikland?'

'Very good. You could get long odds for him, but he'd be on the sheet—'

'And if the Midderland candidates split the vote enough—'

'Who knows what could happen?' They grinned at each other for a moment. 'At this point it really could be anyone,' he said. 'And then any illegitimate children of the king might also be considered…'

'Bastards? Are there any?'

Glokta raised an eyebrow. 'I believe I could point out a couple.' She laughed, and he congratulated himself on it. 'There are rumours, of course, as there always are. Carmee dan Roth, have you heard of her? A lady-at-court, and reckoned an exceptional beauty. She was quite a favourite with the king at one point, years ago. She disappeared suddenly and was later said to have died, perhaps in childbirth, but who can say? People love to gossip, and beautiful young women will die from time to time, without ever bearing a royal bastard.'

'Oh, it's true, it's true!' Ardee fluttered her eyelashes and pretended to swoon. 'We certainly are a sickly breed.'

'You are, my dear, you are. Looks are a curse. I thank my stars every day to have been cured of that.' And he leered his toothless grin at her. 'Members of the Open Council are flooding to the city in their scores, and I daresay many of them have never set foot in the Lords' Round in their lives. They smell power, and they want to be a part of it. They want to get something out of it, while there's something to be had. It might well be the only time in ten generations that the nobles get to make a real decision.'

'But what a decision,' muttered Ardee, shaking her head.

'Indeed. The race could be lengthy and the competition near the front will be savage.' If not to say lethal. 'I would not like to discount the possibility of some outsider coming up at the last moment. Someone without enemies. A compromise candidate.'

'What about the Closed Council?'