But there he was.

It was exactly as the legend had it. The sphere of blue glass, the pipes and tubes and wires and clamps, the colored fluids bubbling in and out of their life-support chamber, and the old, old man within, sitting weirdly upright on the high-backed throne atop its three shallow steps. The eyes of the Pontifex were open.

But did they see? Was he alive at all?

"He no longer speaks," Hornkast said. "It is the latest of the changes. But the physician Sepulthrove says that his mind is still active, that his body retains its vitality. Go forward another step or two. You may look closely at him. See? See? He breathes. He blinks. He is alive. He is most definitely alive."

Hissune felt as though he had stumbled into the presence of something of a former epoch, some prehistoric creature miraculously preserved. Tyeveras! Coronal to the Pontifex Ossier, how many generations ago? Survivor out of history. This man had seen Lord Kinniken with his own eyes. He had been old already when Lord Malibor came to the Castle. And here he still was: alive, yes, if this was in fact life.

Hornkast said, "You may greet him."

Hissune knew the convention: one pretended not to speak directly to the Pontifex, but addressed one's words to the high spokesman, pretending that the high spokesman would relay them to the monarch; but that was not actually done.

He said, "I pray you offer his majesty the greeting of his subject Prince Hissune son of Elsinome, who most humbly expresses his reverence and obedience."

The Pontifex made no reply. The Pontifex showed no sign of having heard anything.

"Once." said Hornkast, "he would make sounds that I learned to interpret, in response to what was said to him. No longer. He has not spoken in months. But we speak to him still, even so."

Hissune said, "Tell the Pontifex, then, that he is beloved by all the world, and his name is constantly in our prayers."

Silence. The Pontifex was motionless.

"Tell the Pontifex also," Hissune said, "that the world turns on its course, that troubles come and go, that the greatness of Majipoor will be preserved."

Silence. No response whatever.

"Are you done?" Hornkast asked.

Hissune stared across the room at the enigmatic figure within the glass cage. He longed to see Tyeveras stretch forth his hand in blessing, longed to hear him speak words of prophesy. But that would not happen, Hissune knew.

"Yes," he said. "I'm done."

"Come, then."

The high spokesman led Hissune from the throne chamber. Outside, Hissune realized that his fine robes were soaked with sweat, that his knees were quivering. Tyeveras! If I live to be as old as he is, Hissune thought, I will never forget that face, those eyes, that blue sphere of glass.

Hornkast said, "It is a new phase, this silence. Sepulthrove maintains that he is still strong, and perhaps so. But possibly this is the beginning of the end. There must be some limit, even with all this machinery."