I wholeheartedly believe! called Isher in ringing tones, that the man known as Colonel Jezal dan Luthar is none other than the natural child of the recently deceased King Guslav the Fifth! Glokta gawped. So, it seemed, did almost everyone else in the chamber. And that he is further fitted for rule on account of his exemplary character and extensive achievements, both within the Union and outside it! Another peal of ugly laughter gurgled down from above, but Isher ignored it. My vote, and the votes of my supporters, are wholeheartedly for Luthar!
If Luthars eyes had gone any wider they might have dropped from his skull. And who can blame him? Now one of the Westport delegation was on his feet. The Aldermen of Westport vote as one man for Luthar! he sang out in his Styrian accent. Natural son and heir to King Guslav the Fifth!
A man jumped up a few rows back. He glanced quickly and somewhat nervously at Glokta. None other than Lord Ingelstad. The lying little shit, whats he about? I am for Luthar! he shrieked.
And I, for Luthar! Wetterlant, his hooded eyes giving away no more emotion than they had when he fed the ducks. Better offers, eh, gentlemen? Or better threats? Glokta glanced at Bayaz. He had a faint smile on his face as he watched others spring from their benches to declare their support for the so-called natural son of Guslav the Fifth. Meanwhile, the chanting of the crowds out in the city could still be heard.
Luthar! Luthar! Luthar!
As the shock drained away, Gloktas mind began to turn. So that is why our First of the Magi cheated in the Contest on Luthars behalf. That is why he has kept him close, all this time. That is why he procured for him so notable a command. If he had presented some nobody as the Kings son, he would have been laughed from the chamber. But Luthar, love him or hate him, is one of us. He is known, he is familiar, he is acceptable. Glokta looked at Bayaz with something close to admiration. Pieces of a puzzle, patient years in the preparation, calmly slotted into place before our disbelieving eyes. And not a thing that we can do, except, perhaps, to dance along to his tune?
Sult leaned sideways in his chair and hissed urgently in Gloktas ear. This boy, Luthar, what manner of a man is he?
Glokta frowned over at him, standing dumbstruck by the wall. He looked at that moment as if he could scarcely be trusted to control his own bowels, let alone a country. Still, you could have said much the same for our previous King, and he discharged his duties admirably. His duties of sitting and drooling, while we ran the country for him. Before his trip abroad, your Eminence, he was as empty-headed, spineless and vain a young fool as one might hope to find in the entire nation. The last time I spoke to him, though
Perfect!
But, your Eminence, you must see that this is all according to Bayaz plans
We will deal with that old fool later. I am taking advice. Sult turned to hiss at Marovia without waiting for a reply. Now the two old men looked out at the Open Council, now they gave their nods and their signals to the men they controlled. All the while, Bayaz smiled. The way an engineer might smile as his new machine works for the first time, precisely according to his design. The Magus caught Gloktas eye, and gave the faintest of nods. There was nothing for Glokta to do but shrug, and give a toothless grin of his own. I wonder if the time may come when we all wish we had voted for Brock.
Now Marovia was speaking hurriedly to Hoff. The Lord Chamberlain frowned, nodded, turned towards the house and signalled to the Announcer, who beat furiously on the floor for silence.
My Lords of the Open Council! Hoff roared, once something resembling quiet had been established. The discovery of a natural son plainly changes the complexion of this debate! Fate would appear to have gifted us the opportunity to continue the dynasty of Arnault without further doubt or conflict! Fate gifts us? I rather think we have a less disinterested benefactor. In view of these exceptional circumstances, and the strong support already voiced by members of this house, the Closed Council judges that an exceptional vote should now be taken. A single vote, on whether the man previously known as Jezal dan Luthar should be declared High King of the Union forthwith!
No! roared Brock, veins bulging from his neck. I strongly protest! But he might as well have protested against the incoming tide. The arms were already shooting up in daunting numbers. The Aldermen of Westport, the supporters of Lord Isher, the votes that Sult and Marovia had bullied and bribed their way. Glokta saw many more, now, men he had thought undecided, or firmly declared for one man or another. All lending their support to Luthar with a speed that strongly implies a previous arrangement. Bayaz sat back, arms folded, as he watched the hands shoot skywards. It was already becoming terribly clear that over half of the room was in favour.
Yes! hissed the Arch Lector, a smile of triumph on his face. Yes!
Those who had not raised their arms, men committed to Brock, or Barezin, or Heugen, stared about them, stunned and not a little horrified at how quickly the world seemed to have passed them by. How quickly the chance at power has slipped through their fingers. And who can blame them? It has been a surprising day for us all.
Lord Brock made one last effort, raising a finger to stab at Luthar, still goggling by the wall. What proof have you that he is the son of anyone in particular, beside the word of this old liar? and he gestured at Bayaz. What proof, my Lords? I demand proof!
Angry mutterings swept up and down the benches, but no one made themselves conspicuous. The second time Lord Brock has stood before this Council and demanded proof, and the second time no one has cared. What proof could there be, after all? A birthmark on Luthars arse in the shape of a crown? Proof is boring. Proof is tiresome. Proof is an irrelevance. People would far rather be handed an easy lie than search for a difficult truth, especially if it suits their own purposes. And most of us would far rather have a King with no friends and no enemies, than a King with plenty of both. Most of us would rather have things stay as they are, than risk an uncertain future.
More hands were raised, and more. Luthars support had rolled too far for any one man to stop it. Now it is like a great boulder hurtling down a slope. They dare not stand in its way in case they are squashed to gravy. So they crowd in behind, and add their own weight to it, and hope to snatch the scraps up afterward.
Brock turned, a deadly frown across his face, and he stormed down the aisle and out of the chamber. Probably he had hoped that a good part of the Open Council would storm out with him. But in that, as in so much else today, he must be harshly disappointed. No more than a dozen of his most loyal followers accompanied him on the lonely march out of the Lords Round. The others have better sense. Lord Isher exchanged a long look with Bayaz, then raised his pale hand. Lords Barezin and Heugen watched the best part of their support flocking to the cause of the young pretender, glanced at each other, retreated back into their seats and stayed carefully silent. Skald opened his mouth to call out, looked about him, thought better of it, and with evident reluctance, slowly lifted his arm.