“I protest!” this one bawled. “I am called Brosen Zelitza. We are the assembly of the nation, and therefore already regents in our own right. Why vest the regency in a council? Why should Episcopals have the temporal power as well as the spiritual? If no one else dares to speak, I will tell you why; it is because they are sold—sold to Tritulacca. They wish to have the power to complete Cleudi’s contract, and their objection to it is only a sham.” (The voice had a curious dynamic quality that seemed to stir the very bones, but in Rodvard’s mind, watching the face, there grew only a picture of something with teeth, he could not make out any mind or thought.) “—by the rule of these Episcopals and their mercenaries of the priesthood the old customs of Dossola were set aside, and it is forbidden that women shall use the Art. So Dossola is being made a half-nation like the savage Kjermanash, with women in bondage, unable to defend—” (The voice was stirring them, excitement in the hall, with movements and the scratch of a pushed-back chair.) “—corrupt priesthood, refuge of scoundrels and bastards,” (Rodvard swept the line of the Episcopals, and though they were turned so he could catch no eyes, every pose told of rising indignation.) “—who cannot define the God they profess to serve—” “Stop!” The Arch-Episcopal was on his feet again, staff upraised. “Ah, the sword bites, does it? Conspirator! Plot—” “Stop!” The voice that was accustomed to dominating the vast recesses of the cathedral was thunderous. Up leaped Mathurin. “My lord Episcopal,” he said, “this is the great assembly of the people, where each may speak in turn. When you have heard him, we will hear you.” The Arch-Episcopal swung round (and from his eyes Rodvard could catch the flash of anger clearly enough, but that was not the sole emotion, and the rest was veiled). “I will never hear blasphemy,” he said. “As the highest officer of government remaining loyal to the realm, I declare this assembly dissolved. All who love God and Dossola, follow me.” Amid a renewed outburst, catcalls and shouts of approval mingled, he lifted his staff high and strode toward the door, followed by the others of his class. A good half the legists came behind. The nobles stood, but hung hesitant, looking toward the strong Marquis of Palm; and then, seeing him sit, some returned to their seats. Of the merchants some followed, but the little knot where the shouting started remained in their seats. When the procession had passed, Mathurin said; “The session for this day is closed.” He turned toward Rodvard (and the latter saw in the smiling eyes that everything had gone exactly according to plan, and Zelitza was a good man). II