She took a sip of the beer and began to raise the skewer to her mouth again.

"Millilain?"

She looked up in surprise. "Kristofon!"

"I was hoping I'd find you here. I closed the shop and came out to see what that mob was all about."

"A sausage vendor appeared suddenly. As though a wizard had conjured him up."

"Ah. Yes, I see."

He was staring at the half-eaten sausage in her hand.

Millilain forced a smile. "I'm sorry, Kris. Do you want a bite?"

"Just a bite," he said. "I suppose it won't do to get back on the line."

"I think they'll all be sold in a little while." She handed him the skewer, working hard at concealing her reluctance, and watched tensely as he nibbled an inch or two of the sausage. She felt intense relief, and more than a little shame, as he gave the rest back to her.

"By the Lady, that was good!"

"It ought to have been. It cost five crowns."

"Five—"

"I couldn't help myself, Kris. Picking up the scent of them in the air—I was like a wild animal, getting on that line. I pushed, I shoved, I fought. I think I would have paid almost anything for one. Oh, Kris, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't apologize. What else is there to spend the money on, anyway? Besides, things will be changing soon. You've heard the news this morning?"

"What news?"

"About the new Coronal! He'll be here any minute. Right here, coming across Khyntor Bridge."

Bewildered, she said, "Has Lord Valentine become Pontifex, then?"

Kristofon shook his head. "Valentine no longer matters.

They say he's disappeared—carried off by the Metamorphs, or something. In any case it was proclaimed about an hour ago that Sempeturn is Coronal now."

"Sempeturn? The preacher?"

"That one, yes. He arrived in Khyntor last night. The mayor has backed him, and I hear the duke has fled to Ni-moya."

"This is impossible, Kris! A man can't just stand up and say he's Coronal! He has to be chosen, he has to be anointed, he has to come from Castle Mount—"

"We used to think so. But these are different times. Sempeturn's a true man of the people. That's the sort we need now. He'll know how to win back the favor of the Divine."

She stared in disbelief. The sausage dangled, forgotten, in her hand. "It can't be happening. It's craziness. Lord Valentine is our anointed Coronal. He—"

"Sempeturn says that he's a fraud, that the whole story of his having switched bodies is nonsense, that we're being punished with these plagues and famines because of his sins. That the only way we can save ourselves now is to depose the false Coronal and give the throne to someone who can lead us back to righteousness."

"And Sempeturn says he's the man, and therefore we're supposed to bow down and accept him and—"

"He's coming now!" Kristofon cried.

His face was flushed, his eyes were strange. Millilain could not remember ever having seen her husband in such a state of high excitement. He was almost feverish. She felt feverish herself, confused, dazed. A new Coronal? That little red-faced rabble-rouser Sempeturn sitting on the Confalume Throne? She couldn't grasp the idea. It was like being told that red was green, or that water henceforth would flow uphill.