Elsinome had insisted that it was wrong for him to come, that it was a grave breach of protocol for a Prince of the Castle to visit so shabby a place as Guadeloom Court even for the sake of seeing his own mother. But Hissune had brushed her objections aside. "I will come to you," he said. "You must not come to me, mother."

She seemed not greatly altered by the years since they last had met. If anything, she looked stronger, taller, more vigorous. But there was an unfamiliar wariness about her, he thought. He held out his arms to her and she held back, uneasy, almost as if she did not recognize him as her son.

"Mother?" he said. "You know me, don't you, mother?"

"I want to think I do."

"I am no different, mother."

"The way you hold yourself, now—the look in your eye—the robes you wear—"

"I am still Hissune."

"Prince Regent Hissune. And you say you are no different?"

"Everything is different now, mother. But some things remain the same." She appeared to soften a little at that, to relax, to accept him. He went to her and embraced her.

Then she stepped back. "What will happen to the world, Hissune? We hear such terrible things! They say whole provinces have starved. New Coronals have proclaimed themselves. And Lord Valentine—where is Lord Valentine? We know so little down here of what goes on outside. What will happen to the world, Hissune?"

Hissune shook his head. "It is all in the hands of the Divine, mother. But I tell you this: if there is a way to save the world from this disaster, we will save it."

"I feel myself beginning to shiver, when I hear you say we. Sometimes in dreams I see you on Castle Mount, among the great lords and princes—I see them looking to you, I see them asking your advice. But can it be true? I am coming to understand certain things—the Lady visits me often when I sleep, do you know that?—but even so, there is so much to understand—so much that I must absorb—"

"The Lady visits you often, you say?"

"Sometimes two or three times a week. I am greatly privileged by that. Although it troubles me, also: to see her so tired, to feel the weight that presses on her soul. She comes to me to help me, you know, but yet I feel sometimes that I should help her, that I should lend my strength to her and let her lean on me—"

"You will, mother."

"Do I understand you rightly, Hissune?"

For a long moment he did not reply. He glanced about the ugly little room at all the old familiar things of his childhood, the tattered curtains, the weary furniture, and he thought of the suite where he had passed the night, and of the apartments that were his on Castle Mount.

He said, "You will not remain in this place much longer, mother."