Then Makova rose. His face was dead white, and his jaws were clenched. ‘God will punish you for this outrage!’ he almost spat at his fellow Patriarchs. ‘I will have no part in this absurdity!’ He spun on his heel and stormed from the chamber.

‘At least he’s honest,’ Talen observed.

‘Honest?’ Berit exclaimed. ‘Makova?’

‘Of course, revered teacher,’ the boy grinned. ‘Once somebody buys Makova, he stays bought – no matter how things turn out.’

The voting went swiftly after that as Patriarch after Patriarch rose to approve Dolmant’s nomination. Emban’s face grew sly as the last Patriarch, a feeble old man from Cammoria, was helped to his feet to murmur the name ‘Dolmant’ in a creaky voice.

‘Well, Dolmant,’ Emban said in mock surprise, ‘it seems that only you and I are left. Is there someone you’d like to nominate, my friend?’

‘I beg of you, my brothers,’ Dolmant pleaded, ‘don’t do this.’ He was openly weeping.

‘The Patriarch of Demos is not in order,’ Ortzel said gently. ‘He must place a name in nomination or stand mute.’

‘Sorry, Dolmant,’ Emban grinned, ‘but you heard what he said. Oh, incidentally, I’ll join my voice with those of the others in nominating you. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to nominate somebody?’ He waited. ‘Very well, then. I make it one hundred and twenty-six nominations for the Patriarch of Demos, one bolted and one abstention. Isn’t that amazing? Shall we vote, my brothers, or shall we save some time and just declare Patriarch Dolmant the Archprelate by acclamation? I pause for your reply.’

It began with a single deep voice coming from somewhere down front. ‘Dolmant!’ the voice boomed. ‘Dolmant!’

It was soon picked up. ‘Dolmant!’ they roared. ‘Dolmant!’ It went on for quite some time.

Then Emban raised his hand for silence. ‘Awfully sorry to be the one to tell you, old boy,’ he drawled to Dolmant, ‘but you don’t seem to be a Patriarch any more. Why don’t you and a couple of our brothers retire to the vestry for a few moments so they can help you try on your new robes?’

Chapter 18