For a famous demagogue, traitor, and inciter of riots, there was nothing in the least remarkable about the man known as the Tanner. He sat calmly in his folding chair at the table in Jezal's tent, an ordinary face under a mop of curly hair, a man of medium size in a coat of unexceptional style and colour, a grin on his face that implied he knew very well that he held the upper hand.

'They call me the Tanner,' he said, 'and I have been nominated to speak for the alliance of the oppressed, and the exploited, and the put-upon down in the valley. These are two of my partners in this righteous and entirely patriotic venture. My two generals, one might say. Goodman Hood,' and he nodded sideways at a burly man with a shovel beard, a ruddy complexion, and a seething frown, 'and Cotter Hoist,' and he jerked his head the other way towards a weaselly type with a long scar on his cheek and a lazy eye.

'Honoured,' said Jezal warily, though they looked more like brigands than Generals as far as he was concerned. 'I am Colonel Luthar.'

'I know. I saw you win the Contest. Fine swordplay, my friend, very fine.'

'Oh, well, er…' Jezal was caught off guard, 'thank you. This is my adjutant, Major Opker, and this is… Bayaz, the First of the Magi.'

Goodman Hood snorted his disbelief, but the Tanner only stroked thoughtfully at his lip. 'Good. And you have come to fight, or negotiate?'

'We have come for either one.' Jezal embarked on his statement. 'The Closed Council, while condemning the method of your demonstration, concede that you may have legitimate demands—'

Hood made a rumbling snort. 'What choice have they got, the bastards?'

Jezal pressed on. 'Well, er… they have instructed me to offer you these concessions.' He held up the scroll that Hoff had prepared for him, a huge thing with elaborately carved handles and a seal the size of a saucer. 'But I must caution you,' doing his very best to sound confident, 'should you refuse, we are quite ready to fight, and that my men are the best trained, best armed, best prepared in the King's service. Each one of them is worth twenty of your rabble.'

The burly farmer gave a threatening chuckle. 'Lord Finster thought the same, and our rabble kicked his arse all the way from one end of his estates to the other. He would have got himself hung for his trouble if he'd had a slower horse. How fast is your horse, Colonel?'

The Tanner touched him gently on the shoulder. 'Peace, now, my fiery friend. We came to get terms, if we can get terms we can accept. Why not show us what you have there, Colonel, and we'll see if there is any need for threats.'