“We are here met in the high assembly of the realm, which I hold to represent what of the power material has failed to protect its own; and the power spiritual is fully represented. Therefore, though such a step has no basis in law or custom, I say let us set up a regency in the time of a living Queen. It should have members of lords and estates to show forth the source of its authority; and since the true enemy is that power of evil which has led our good Queen astray, I humbly offer to preside.” He sat. There was a rumor, almost of agreement, but with a little edge in it that left Rodvard glad the Arch-Episcopal had ended so, for all the rest of what he said might have led them to agree, and it seemed to Rodvard that a regency with lords and Episcopals on it would be only the old rule again. Mathurin jerked his finger toward one of the brown legists, who had risen and was waiting for attention. “I am the kronzlar Escholl,” said the man. “I will say that this proposal of a regency in the time of a living ruler has good support in law and custom, though it is not generally known. It is now over eight quadrials of years since King Belodon the Second was killed at Bregatz during the Zigraner wars, and few remember that only three weeks before his death, it was determined that he had gone mad, and the barons set up a council of regency. We may, I think, assume a like madness in the Queen’s Majesty, since her offer to Perisso is clearly contrary both to the law of the realm and true religion. His claim to Sedad Mir is based on descent in the male line, since it is well known that the last Count of that seignory wrongfully dispossessed his sister, who survived him to pass on her rights to the crown of Dossola.” The bright morning light struck through the window, fairly on the speaker’s face (and as he took his place, Rodvard caught from his eye a quick gleam of greed and lust for power, altogether surprising in one who had spoken so dry and calmly). He touched Mathurin’s arm to mention this, but now half a dozen more were on their feet to speak, and the writer before the assembly shot his finger at a man with a merchant’s badge, in the group that had made the tumult when the Marquis of Palm was shouted down.