He found the Regent pacing back and forth like a restless bear in front of the relief map of the world opposite Lord Valentine's desk. Stasilaine was with him, seated at the council table. He looked grim, and acknowledged Hissune's arrival only with the merest of nods. In an offhand, preoccupied way Elidath gestured to Hissune to take a seat beside him. A moment later Divvis arrived, formally dressed in eye-jewels and feather-mask, as though the summons had interrupted him on his way to a high state ceremony.

Hissune felt a great uneasiness growing in him. What reason could Elidath possibly have for calling a meeting like this so suddenly, in such an irregular way? And why just these few of us, out of all the princes?

Elidath, Stasilaine, Divvis—surely those were the three prime candidates to succeed Lord Valentine, the innermost of the inner circle. Something major has happened, Hissune thought. The old Pontifex has died at last, perhaps. Or perhaps the Coronal—

Let it be Tyeveras, Hissune prayed. Oh, please, let it be Tyeveras!

Elidath said, "All right. Everyone's here: we can begin."

With a sour grin Divvis said, "What is it, Elidath? Has someone seen a two-headed milufta flying north?"

"If you mean, Is this a time of evil omen, then the answer is that it is," said Elidath somberly.

"What has happened?" Stasilaine asked.

Elidath tapped a sheaf of papers on the desk. "Two important developments. First, fresh reports have come in from western Zimroel, and the situation is far more serious than we've realized. The entire Rift sector of the continent is disrupted, apparently, from Mazadone or thereabouts to a point somewhere west of Dulorn, and the trouble is spreading. Crops continue to die of mysterious blights, there's a tremendous shortage of basic foods, and hundreds of thousands of people, perhaps millions, have begun migrating toward the coast. Local officials are doing their best to requisition emergency food supplies from regions still unaffected—apparently there's been no trouble yet around Tilomon or Narabal, and Ni-moya and Khyntor are still relatively untouched by the farming troubles—but the distances are so great and the situation so sudden that very little's been accomplished so far. There is also the question of some peculiar new religious cult that has sprung up out there, something involving sea-dragon worship—"

"What?" said Stasilaine, astonishment bringing color to his face.

"It sounds insane, I know," Elidath said. "But the report is that the word is spreading that the dragons are gods of some sort, and that they've decreed that the world is going to end, or some such idiocy, and—"

"It's not a new cult," said Hissune quietly.

The other three all turned to face him. "You know something about this?" Divvis asked.

Hissune nodded. "I used to hear of it sometimes when I lived in the Labyrinth. It's always been a secret shadowy sort of thing, very vague, never taken too seriously so far as I ever knew. And strictly lower class, something to whisper about behind the backs of the gentry. Some of my friends knew a little about it, or maybe more than a little, though I was never mixed up in it. I remember mentioning it once to my mother long ago, and she told me it was dangerous nonsense and I should keep away from it, and I did. I think it got started among the Liimen, a long time ago, and has gradually been spreading across the bottom levels of society in an underground sort of way, and I suppose now is surfacing because of all the troubles that have begun."