The days were getting shorter and the endless sessions dragged into the darkness, haggard faces lit by flickering candlelight. The place was chill as a tomb in the mornings, overhot by lunch, stinking of stale sweat and bad breath and chagga smoke. Representatives ate at their seats, remnants of meals rotting under the greasy benches. Gunnar Broad and his men regularly broke up fights. A week before, a drunk had fallen from the upper gallery during a scuffle and been smashed to pulp on the floor before the High Table. They’d paused long enough to scrape the corpse out, then carried on arguing while the mess was being mopped up.

“We need to be bloody civil!” Ramnard, an old tailor with a face pitted by some childhood sickness, was making one of his rude demands for politeness. “I damn well insist that Citizen Sworbreck reduce the number, not to mention the savagery, of his attacks upon members of this Assembly in his newsbills and pamphlets—”

Sworbreck leaped up as if he was mounted on a spring. “Nothing would delight me more than to do so! The very instant we reduce the number, not to mention the corruption, of the traitors, profiteers and simple incompetents in this Assembly!”

Laughter, applause. The public gallery were as hungry for pain, tears and passion as any audience at the theatre. Leo’s clapping days were over, but he slapped the bench beside him one-handed in fake approval.

“Friends, please!” Risinau whined from his gilded chair. “We still have so much work to do on our constitution. The people are restless. So easily roused to anger.” As if he hadn’t ridden a wave of it to power. “Citizen Sworbreck, we merely ask for a little moderation in the frenzy of your denouncements.”

“Moderation sells no pamphlets,” muttered Leo.

Sworbreck was well aware of that. “Sully the high principles of this august body with dishonesty? I would rather die!” He tore his shirt open to expose a wedge of pale chest. “Plunge in your dagger there, Citizen! I will happily wash the benches of this Assembly with my heart’s blood in the cause of the Great Change, I have said so often!”

“Washing them with something would be a step forward,” Jurand muttered in Leo’s ear. Sitting between him and Glaward was far from comfortable, given the history. What happened in Sipani. What might still be happening… But it felt better than letting them sit together.

In the clamour produced by Sworbreck’s latest offer of martyrdom, Representatives shouted over each other to be heard. It was noisy as a battle, and Leo watched the back and forth with the care of a general feeling out his moment to advance. A white-haired old merchant had kidnapped the floor now, his bass voice so powerful the benches seemed to vibrate.

“If the attention of the Assembly might be steered to other matters?” Far too easily, if anything. “I move that Commissioner Pike presents himself to explain his recent actions!”