"Heaven forfend," Byerly responds, laughing. "Not Count Vorrutyer, not Lord Vorrutyer, not even Lord Byerly, and praise be to the rare streak of unambition that led my ancestors to not try for any political power at all." Which would be happening right about now, wouldn't it? Perhaps he ought to go out and find his grandfather, just to put a word or two in his ear about disinheriting his father once and for all. Perhaps starving him as well. Giving him a good kick or two, to see whether a bit of that would improve his personality. The bastard.

Anyway.

"After all, the only thing duller than talking to a High Vor, I should think, is being a High Vor. Have you had to put up with many of their type, milady?"