Instead of that she said the following: “In your lengthy disquisition you keep stubbornly returning to the themes of increasing wealth and prosperity. I understand you perfectly, since my own prosperity is also extremely dear to me. And not for all the world would I give up anything that prosperity provides me with. I judge that a woman has the right to have children when she wants and not to have them when she doesn’t, but I shall not enter into a debate in that regard; after all, everyone has the right to some opinion or other. I merely point out that I charge a fee for the medical help I give women. It’s quite a significant source of my income. We have a free market economy, Your Majesty. Please don’t interfere with the sources of my income. Because my income, as you well know, is also the income of the Chapter and the entire consorority. And the consorority reacts extremely badly to any attempts to diminish its income.”

“Are you trying to threaten me, Neyd?”

“The very thought! Not only am I not, but I declare my far-reaching help and collaboration. Know this, Belohun, that if—as a result of the exploitation and plunder you’re engaged in—unrest occurs in Kerack, if—speaking grandiloquently—the fire of rebellion flares up, or if a rebellious rabble comes to drag you out by the balls, dethrone you and hang you forthwith from a dry branch… Then you’ll be able to count on my consorority. And the sorcerers. We’ll come to your aid. We shan’t allow revolt or anarchy, because they don’t suit us either. So keep on exploiting and increasing your wealth. Feel free. And don’t interfere with others doing the same. That’s my request and advice.”

“Advice?” fumed Xander, rising from his seat. “You, advising? My father? My father is the king! Kings don’t listen to advice—kings command!”

“Sit down and be quiet, son.” Belohun grimaced, “And you, witch, listen carefully. I have something to say to you.”

“Yes?”

“I’m taking a new lady wife… Seventeen years old… A little cherry, I tell you. A cherry on a tart.”

“My congratulations.”

“I’m doing it for dynastic reasons. Out of concern for the succession and order in the land.”

Egmund, previously silent as the grave, jerked his head up.

“Succession?” he snarled, and the evil glint in his eyes didn’t escape Lytta’s notice. “What succession? You have six sons and eight daughters, including bastards! What more do you want?”

“You can see for yourself.” Belohun waved a bony hand. “You can see for yourself, Neyd. I have to look after the succession. Am I to leave the kingdom and the crown to someone who addresses his parent thus? Fortunately, I’m still alive and reigning. And I mean to reign for a long time. As I said, I’m wedding—”

“What of it?”