At least the Coronal undertook the grand processional from time to time, and put himself back in touch with his subjects. Yet was that not precisely what Lord Valentine was doing now, and what help was that in healing the wound that widened in the heart of the world? Where was Valentine at this moment, anyway?

What actions, if any, was he taking? Who in the government had heard so much as a word from him in months?

We are all wise and enlightened people, Hissune thought. And with the best will in the world we are doing everything wrong.

It was nearly time for the day's meeting of the Council of Regency. He turned and made his way at a quick lope toward the interior of the Castle.

As he began the ascent of the Ninety-Nine Steps he caught sight of Alsimir, whom he had lately named as the chief among his aides, waving wildly and shouting from far above. Taking the steps two and three at a time, Hissune raced upward while Alsimir came plunging down just as swiftly.

"We've been looking all over for you!" Alsimir blurted breathlessly, when he was still half a dozen steps away. He seemed amazingly agitated.

"Well, you've found me," Hissune snapped. "What's going on?"

Pausing to collect himself, Alsimir said, "There's been big excitement. A long message came in from Tunigorn an hour ago, in Gihorna—"

"Gihorna?" Hissune stared. "What in the name of the Divine is he doing there?"

"I couldn't tell you that. All I know is that that's where he sent the message from, and—"

"All right. All right." Catching Alsimir by the arm, Hissune said sharply, "Tell me what he said!"

"Do you think I know? Would they let someone like me in on great matters of state?"

"A great matter of state, is it, then?"

"Divvis and Stasilaine have been in session in the council room for the last forty-five minutes, and they've sent messengers to all corners of the Castle trying to find you, and half the high lords of the Castle have gone to the meeting and the others are on their way, and—"

Valentine must be dead, Hissune thought, chilled.

"Come with me," he said, and went sprinting furiously up the steps.

Outside the council chamber he found a madhouse scene, thirty or forty of the minor lords and princes and their aides milling about in confusion, and more arriving at every moment. As Hissune appeared they moved automatically aside for him, opening a path through which he moved like a sailing ship cutting its way imperiously through a sea thick with drifting dragon-grass. Leaving Alsimir by the door and instructing him to collect from the others whatever information they might have, he went in.

Stasilaine and Divvis sat at the high table: Divvis bleak-faced and grim, Stasilaine somber, pale, and uncharacteristically downcast, his shoulders slumped, his hand running nervously through his thick shock of hair. About them were most of the high lords: Mirigant, Elzandir, Manganot, Cantalis, the Duke of Halanx, Nimian of Dundilmir, and five or six others, including one that Hissune had seen only once before, the ancient and withered Prince Ghizmaile, grandson of the Pontifex Ossier who had preceded Tyeveras in the Labyrinth. All eyes turned upon Hissune as he entered, and he stood for a moment transfixed in the gaze of these men, the youngest of whom was ten or fifteen years his senior, and all of whom had spent their lives in the inner corridors of power. They were looking toward him as though he alone had the answer they required to some terrible and perplexing question.