“Ortolan apparently blamed the entire council at Rissberg for his favourite’s death, became enraged and suffered a stroke. He was really very old and had suffered from high blood pressure. His addiction to fisstech was an open secret, and fisstech and high blood pressure are a potent mixture. But there must have been something fishy, because significant staffing changes have taken place at Rissberg. Even before Ortolan’s death there had been conflicts. Algernon Guincamp, more commonly known as Pinety, was forced to resign, among others. You remember him, I’m certain. Because if anyone was memorable there, he was.”

“Indeed.”

“Ortolan’s death—” Coral glared at him keenly “—provoked a swift response from the Chapter, who had much earlier been aware of some worrying tidings concerning the antics of the deceased and his favourite. Interestingly—and increasingly typically in our times—a tiny pebble triggered the landslide. An insignificant commoner, an over-zealous shire-reeve or constable. He forced his superior—the bailiff from Gors Velen—to take action. The bailiff took the accusations higher up and thus, rung by rung, the affair reached the royal council and thence the Chapter. To keep things brief: people were accused of negligence. Biruta Icarti had to leave the board. She went back to lecture at Aretuza. Pockmarked Axel and Sandoval left. Zangenis kept his job, gaining the Chapter’s pardon by informing on the others and shifting all the blame onto them. What do you say to that? Do you have anything to say?”

“What can I say? It’s your business. And your scandals.”

“Scandals that erupted at Rissberg soon after your visit.”

“You overrate me, Coral. And my influence.”

“I never overrate anything. And seldom underrate.”

“Mozaïk and Dandelion will be back any moment,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “And after all, you didn’t bring me here without a reason. Will you tell me what this is about?”

She withstood his gaze.

“You know very well what this is about,” she replied. “So don’t offend my intelligence by lowering your own. You haven’t come to see me in over a month. No, don’t think I desire mawkish melodrama or pathetic sentimental gestures. I don’t expect anything more from the relationship that’s finishing than a pleasant memory.”

“It seems to me you used the word ‘relationship’? Its semantic capacity is indeed astounding.”

“Nothing but a pleasant memory,” she said, ignoring his comment and holding his gaze. “I don’t know what it’s like for you, but as far as I’m concerned, I’ll be frank, things aren’t that good. It would, I think, be worth making some serious efforts to that end. I don’t think much would be necessary. Why, something small but nice, a nice final note, something to leave a pleasant memory. Could you manage something like that? Would you like to visit me?”