"The lord Stasilaine—Prince Mirigant—Duke Elzandir of Chorg—"

Each in turn saluted her with the highest respect, almost as though she were the Lady herself. And she received those salutes with a poise and presence that sent shivers of the most extreme delight through Hissune.

"Let my mother be taken," he said, "to the Pavilion of Lady Thiin, and given a suite worthy of some great hierarch of the Isle. I will join the rest of you in the council-chamber in an hour."

"An hour is not sufficient time for the lord Divvis to return from his hunt," said Mirigant mildly.

Hissune nodded. "So I comprehend. But it is not my fault that the Lord Divvis has chosen this day to go to the forest; and there is so much that needs to be said and done that I think we must begin before he arrives. My lord Stasilaine, will you concur with me in that?"

"Most surely."

"Then two of the three Regents are in agreement. It is sufficient to convene. My lords, the council-chamber in an hour?"

They were all there when Hissune, cleansed and in fresh robes, entered the hall fifty minutes later.

Taking his seat at the high table beside Stasilaine, he glanced about at the assembled princes and said, "I have spoken with Hornkast, and I have beheld the Pontifex Tyeveras with my own eyes."

There was a stirring in the room, a gathering of tension.

Hissune said, "The Pontifex still lives. But it is not life as you or I understand it. He no longer speaks, even in such howls and shrieks as have been his recent language. He lives in another realm, far away, and I think it is the realm that lies just on this side of the Bridge of Farewells."

"And how soon, then, is he likely to die?" asked Nimian of Dundilmir.

"Oh, not soon, even now," replied Hissune. "They have their witcheries that can keep him for some years yet, I think, from making his crossing. But I believe that that crossing cannot now be much longer allowed to wait."

"It is Lord Valentine's decision to make," said the Duke of Halanx.

Hissune nodded. "Indeed. I will come to that in a little while." He rose and walked to the world-map, and laid his hand over the heart of Zimroel. "While traveling to and from the Labyrinth I received the regular dispatches. I know of the declaration of war against us made by the Piurivar Faraataa, whoever he may be; and I know that the Metamorphs now have begun to launch not only agricultural plagues into Zimroel but also a horde of ghastly new animals that create terrible havoc and fear. I am aware of the famine in the Khyntor district, the secession of Piliplok, the rioting in Ni-moya. I am not aware of what is taking place west of Dulorn, and I think no one is, this side of the Rift. I know also that western Alhanroel is rapidly approaching the chaotic condition of the other continent, and that the disruptions are heading swiftly eastward, even to the foothills of the Mount. In the face of all this we have done very little of a concrete nature so far. The central government appears to have vanished entirely, the provincial dukes are behaving as though they are altogether independent of one another, and we remain gathered on Castle Mount high above the clouds."