The Magus made no effort to deny it. 'I deal in the momentous. I cannot concern myself with the fate of every peasant. Neither can you. I have tried to teach you this, but it seems you have failed to learn the lesson.'

'You are mistaken! I refuse to learn it!' Now was his chance. Now, while he was angry enough, for Jezal to step forever from the shadow of the First of the Magi and stand a free man. Bayaz was poison, and he had to be cut out. 'You helped me to my throne, and for that I thank you. But I do not care for your brand of government, it smacks of tyranny!'

Bayaz narrowed his eyes. 'Government is tyranny. At its best it is dressed in pretty colours.'

'Your callous disregard for the lives of my subjects! I will not stand for it! I have moved beyond you. You are no longer wanted here. No longer needed. I will find my own way from now on.' He waved Bayaz away with what he hoped was a regal gesture of dismissal. 'You may leave.'

'May… I… indeed?' The First of the Magi stood in silence for a long time, his frown growing darker and darker. Long enough for Jezal's rage to begin to wilt, for his mouth to go dry, for his knees to feel weak. 'I perceive that I have been far too soft with you,' said Bayaz, each word sharp as a razor-cut. 'I have coddled you, like a favourite grandchild, and you have grown wilful. A mistake that I shall not make again. A responsible guardian should never be shy with the whip.'

'I am a son of kings!' snarled Jezal, 'I will not—'

He was doubled over by a spear of pain through his guts, stunningly sudden. He tottered a step or two, scalding vomit spraying from his mouth. He crashed onto his face, scarcely able even to breathe, his crown bouncing off and rolling away into the corner of the room. He had never known agony like it. Not a fraction of it.

'I have no notion… of what causes you to suppose… that you could speak to me in such a manner. To me, the First of the Magi!' Jezal heard Bayaz' footsteps thumping slowly towards him, voice picking at his ears as he squirmed helplessly in his own sick.

'Son of kings? I am disappointed, after all that we have been through together, that you would so readily believe the lies I have spread on your behalf. That nonsense was meant for the idiots in the streets, but it seems that idiots in palaces are lulled by sweet slop just as easily. I bought you from a whore. You cost me six marks. She wanted twenty, but I drive a hard bargain.'