“Anne said you were awake,” she said. “Ser Robert held the gate. The Council of Three Hundred has agreed to capitulate. Michael has made a great many decisions with me and George . . . I hope—”

Gabriel waved a hand. “Good,” he said. “Kiss me, Blanche.”

She came and kissed him.

His page, embarrassed, turned away.

His hands roved over her back.

And then he sighed. “Let’s go.”

“Snow and ice,” Long Paw said. “And . . . irks. Slaves. I saw ’em.”

Ser Vizirt, the highest-ranking irk in the army, sat with Long Paw. He shook his head, his face deadly serious.

“We have no legend to cover this . . .” he said.

Gabriel looked at Morgon. The young man was silent. He sat holding the hand of his wife, Tancreda. She shook her head.

But then he raised his head. “This whole world was a giant city,” he said. “And now they are all dead.” He looked at Gabriel. Then he looked at Bin Maymum. “How long will the gates remain open?” he asked.

Bin Maymum looked at his companion and they both made a nearly identical face.

Bin Maymum rose, bowed, and scratched his head. “A hundred years?” he asked.

Every man and woman at the table gasped.

Mortirmir nodded slowly.

Gabriel felt his heart sink within him. “Oh God,” he said.

Mortirmir looked at his emperor and nodded. “So the waves come, on and on, fighting for the gates. Someone built the gates because they thought all the sentient races would live in harmony—”

“Or maybe some bastard just liked fightin’,” Tom Lachlan said. “Tar’s tits, friends. We can hold all the gates if’n we must.”

Blanche said, “There’ll be nothing left of our civilization. No art, no song, no dance. Only war.”

Gabriel sat back. “Let’s take this one crisis at a time, shall we?” he asked.

Mortirmir steepled his fingers against his lips, looked over them, and nodded. “Ser Robert, these were the same creatures that you fought in Etrusca?”

“The same,” Long Paw said.

Morgon looked away. “So,” he said. “These were the rebel’s allies; and the soldiers of shadow.”

“And now we hold a gate to one of their spheres,” Long Paw said. “That’s my understanding, Cap’n.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Too complicated. Our goal is the same. These two gates should be quite close . . .”

“Aye.” Michael nodded. “It’s waiting for us. I’m sorry, Gabriel. I ordered the march to commence. I reversed the order of march; that’s the only reason we’re still sitting here. You said you would do it at the last gate. The casa is exhausted. So are the Galles and the scarecrows.”

“Well done,” Gabriel said. “Company?”

“In front, with Milus and Sauce and the Etruscans.” Michael smiled his wry smile.

“The salamanders just opened their gates?” Gabriel asked.