He walked towards the opposite parapet with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man to his scaffold. The crowd was spread out below in all its disturbing variety. Jezal had to stop himself fussing with his belt-buckle. He kept worrying for some reason that his trousers would fall down in front of all those people. A ridiculous notion. He cleared his throat. Someone saw him, pointed.

'The king!'

'King Jezal!'

'The king speaks!'

The crowd shifted and stretched, drawn towards the gatehouse, a sea of hopeful, fearful, needy faces. The noise in the square slowly died and a breathless silence fell.

'My friends… my countrymen… my subjects!' His voice rang out with pleasing authority. A good beginning, very… rhetorical. 'Our enemies may be many… very many…' Jezal cursed to himself. That was hardly an admission to give courage to the masses. 'But I urge you to take heart! Our defences are strong!' He slapped at the firm stones under his hand. 'Our courage is indomitable!' He thumped at his polished breastplate. 'We will hold firm!' This was better! He had discovered a natural talent for speaking. The crowd was warming to him now, he could feel it. 'We need not hold out forever! Lord Marshal West is even now bringing his army to our assistance—'

'When?' someone screamed out. There was a wave of angry muttering.

'Er…' Jezal, wrong-footed, glanced nervously across at Bayaz, 'er…'

'When will they come? When?' The First of the Magi hissed at Glokta, and the cripple made a sharp gesture to someone below.

'Soon! You may depend upon it!' Curse Bayaz, this had been an awful notion. Jezal did not have the ghost of an idea of how to put heart into a rabble.

'What about our children? What about our homes? Will your house burn? Will it?' A swell of unhappy calls went up.

'Do not fear! I beg of you… please…' Damn it! He had no business pleading, he was a king. 'The army is on its way!' Jezal noticed black figures forcing through the press. Practicals of the Inquisition. They converged, somewhat to his relief, on the point where the heckles were coming from. 'They are even now leaving the North! Any day they will come to our aid, and teach these Gurkish dogs a—'

'When? When will—' Black sticks rose and fell in the midst of the crowd and the question was cut off in a high-pitched shriek.

Jezal did his best to shout over it. 'In the meantime, will we let these Gurkish scum ride free over our fields? Over the fields of our fathers?'

'No!' someone roared, to Jezal's great relief.

'No! We will show these Kantic slaves how a free Union citizen can fight!' A volley of lukewarm agreements. 'We will fight as bravely as lions! As fiercely as tigers!' He was warming to his work, now, the words were spilling out as if he really meant them. Perhaps he did. 'We will fight as we did in the days of Harod! Of Arnault! Of Casamir!' A rousing cheer went up. 'We will not rest until these Gurkish devils are driven back across the Circle Sea! There will be no negotiation!'