If I cast my mind a long way back… 'The Golden Chancellor? They say he ran the Closed Council for forty years. They say he ran the Union.' Sult said so. Sult said his death left a hole, into which he and Marovia were both keen to step. That is where this ugly dance began, for me. With a visit from the Arch Lector, with the confession of my old friend Salem Rews, with the arrest of Sepp dan Teufel, Master of the Mints…

Bayaz let one thick fingertip trail across the pieces on the squares board, as though considering his next move. 'We had an agreement, Feekt and I. I made him powerful. He served me, utterly.'

Feekt… the foundation on which the nation rested… served you? I expected delusions of grandeur, but this will take some beating. 'You would have me suppose that you controlled the Union all that time?'

Bayaz snorted. 'Ever since I forced the damn thing together in the time of Harod the Great, so-called. It has sometimes been necessary for me to take a hand myself, as in this most recent crisis. But mostly I have stood at a distance, behind the curtain, as it were.'

'A little stuffy back there, one imagines.'

'An uncomfortable necessity.' The lamplight gleamed on the Magus' white grin. 'People like to watch the pretty puppets, Superior. Even a glimpse of the puppeteer can be most upsetting for them. Why, they might even suddenly notice the strings around their own wrists. Sult caught a glimpse of something, behind the curtain, and only look at the trouble he caused for everyone.' Bayaz flicked one of the pieces over and it clattered onto its side, rocked gently back and forth.

'Let us suppose you are indeed the great architect, and you have given us…' Glokta waved his hand towards the window. Acres of charming devastation. 'All this. Why such generosity?'

'Not entirely selfless, I must confess. Khalul had the Gurkish to fight for him. I needed soldiers of my own. Even the greatest of generals needs little men to hold the line.' He absently nudged one of the smallest pieces forward. 'Even the greatest of warriors needs his armour.'

Glokta stuck out his bottom lip. 'But then Feekt died, and you were left naked.'

'Naked as a babe, at my age.' Bayaz gave a long sigh. 'And in poor weather too, with Khalul making ready for war. I should have arranged a suitable successor more quickly, but my thoughts were elsewhere, deep in my books. The older you get, the more swiftly the years pass. It's easy to forget how quickly people die.'

And how easily. 'The death of the Golden Chancellor left a vacuum,' muttered Glokta, thinking it through. 'Sult and Marovia saw a chance to take power for themselves, and advance their own notions of what the nation should be.'