But the babble gradually subsided. Those councillors who were on their feet were shamed back into line. Their habit of obedience to the Closed Council is not easily broken. But then habits never are. Especially of obedience. Only ask my mother's dogs. They grumbled their way back into their seats, and allowed Bayaz to continue.

'Your Lordships have perhaps heard of Carmee dan Roth?' A swell of noise from the gallery above confirmed that the name was not unfamiliar. 'She was a great favourite with the King, when he was younger. A very great favourite. So much so that she became pregnant with a child.' Another wave of muttering, louder. 'I have always carried a sentimental regard for the Union. I have always had one eye on its welfare, despite the scant thanks I have received for it.' And Bayaz gave the very briefest curl of his lip towards the members of the Closed Council. 'So, when the lady died in childbirth, I took the King's bastard into my care. I placed him with a noble family, to be well raised and well educated, in case the nation should one day find itself without an heir. My actions now seem prudent indeed.'

'Lies!' someone shrieked. 'Lies!' But few voices joined in. Their tone instead was one of curiosity.

'A natural son?'

'A bastard?'

'Carmee dan Roth, did he say?'

They have heard this tale before. Rumours, perhaps, but familiar ones. Familiar enough to make them listen. To make them judge whether it will be in their interests to believe.

But Lord Brock was not convinced. 'A blatant fabrication! It will take more than rumour and conjecture to sway this house! Produce this bastard, if you can, so-called First of the Magi! Work your magic!'

'No magic is needful,' sneered Bayaz. 'The King's son is already with us in the chamber.' Gasps of consternation from the gallery, sighs of amazement from the councillors, stunned silence from the Closed Council and their aides, every eye fixed on Bayaz' pointing finger as he swept out his hand towards the wall. 'No other man than Colonel Jezal dan Luthar!'

The spasm began in Glokta's toeless foot, shot up his ruined leg, set his twisted spine shivering from his arse right to his skull, made his face twitch like an angry jelly, made his few teeth rattle in his empty gums, set his eyelid flickering fast as a fly's wings.

The echoes of Bayaz' last utterance whispered round the suddenly silent hall. 'Luthar, Luthar, Luthar…'

You must be fucking joking.