He had done, and he was not Jezal's father at all.

When the king had congratulated Jezal on his victory, he had mistaken him for his own son. Not such blinding folly, evidently, as everyone might have thought. The old fool had been closer to the mark than anyone. Suddenly, it all made horrible sense.

He was a bastard. Literally.

He was the natural son of a king. What was much more, he was slowly and with increasing terror beginning to realise, he was now being seriously considered as his replacement.

'My Lords!' shouted Bayaz over the disbelieving chatter gaining steadily in volume with every passing moment. 'You sit amazed! It is a difficult fact to accept, I can understand. Especially with the suffocating heat in here!' He signalled to the guards at both ends of the hall. 'Open the gates, please, and let us have some air!'

The doors were heaved open and a gentle breeze washed into the Lords' Round. A cooling breeze, and something else with it. Hard to make out at first, and then coming more clearly. Something like the noise of the crowd at the Contest. Soft, repetitive, and more than a little frightening.

'Luthar! Luthar! Luthar!' The sound of his own name, chanted over and over from a multitude of throats beyond the walls of the Agriont, was unmistakable.

Bayaz grinned. 'It would seem that the people of the city have already chosen their favoured candidate.'

'This is not their choice!' roared Brock, still on his feet but only now regaining his composure. 'Any more than it is yours!'

'But it would be foolish to ignore their opinion. The support of the commoners cannot be lightly dismissed, especially in these restless times. If they were to be disappointed, in their current mood, who knows what might occur? Riots in the streets, or worse? None of us wants that, surely, Lord Brock?'

Several of the councillors shifted nervously on their benches, glancing towards the open doors, whispering to their neighbours, if the atmosphere in the Round had been confused before, it was flabbergasted now. But the worry and surprise of the Open Council was nothing compared to Jezal's own.

A fascinating tale, but if he supposes that the Union's greediest men will simply take his word for it and give the crown away he has made a staggering blunder, whether commoners wet themselves at the name of Luthar or not. Lord Isher rose from the front row for the first time, stately and magnificent, the jewels on his chain of office flashing. And so the furious objections, the outraged denials, the demands for punishment begin.