"So I remember. Those were my words, almost exactly."

"And I said," Valentine went on, "that I would dedicate my reign to making reparations for the injustices we visited upon the Metamorphs. But I have not done that. I have been preoccupied with other problems, and have made only the most superficial of gestures toward entering into an understanding with the Shapeshifters. And while I delayed, our punishment has intensified. Now that I am on Zimroel, I intend to go at once to Piurifayne—"

"To Piurifayne, my lord?" said Sleet and Tunigorn in virtually the same instant.

"To Piurifayne, to the Shapeshifter capital at Ilirivoyne. I will meet with the Danipiur. I will hear her demands, and take cognizance of them. I—"

"No Coronal has ever gone into Metamorph territory before," Tunigorn cut in.

"One Coronal has," said Valentine. "In my time as a juggler I was there, and performed, in fact, before an audience of Metamorphs and the Danipiur herself."

"A different matter," Sleet said. "You could do anything you pleased, when you were a juggler. That time we went among the Shapeshifters, you scarce believed you were Coronal yourself. But now that you are undoubted Coronal—"

"I will go. As a pilgrimage of humility, as the beginning of an act of atonement."

"My lord—!" Sleet sputtered.

Valentine smiled. "Go ahead. Give me all the arguments against it. I've been expecting for weeks to have a long dreary debate with you three about this, and now I suppose the time has come. But let me tell you this first: when we are done speaking, I will go to Piurifayne."

"And nothing will shake you?" Tunigorn asked. "If we speak of the dangers, the breach of protocol, the possible adverse political consequences, the—"

"No. No. No. Nothing will shake me. Only by kneeling before the Danipiur can I bring an end to the disaster that is ravaging Zimroel."

"Are you so sure, my lord," said Deliamber, "that will be as simple as that?"

"It is something that must be tried. Of that I am convinced, and you will never shake me from my resolve."

"My lord," Sleet said, "it was the Shapeshifters that witched you off your throne, or so I do recall it, and I think you have some recollection of it also. Now the world stands at the edge of madness, and you propose to offer yourself up into their hands, in their own trackless forests. Does that seem—"

"Wise? No. Necessary? Yes, Sleet. Yes. One Coronal more or less doesn't matter. There are many others who can take my place and do as well, or better. But the destiny of Majipoor matters. I must go to Ilirivoyne."

"I beg you, my lord —"

"I beg you," said Valentine. "We have talked enough. My mind is set on this."

"You will go to Piurifayne," said Sleet in disbelief. "You will offer yourself to the Shapeshifters."

"Yes," Valentine said. "I will offer myself to the Shape-shifters."