"They will be confined."

"Nothing more? No execution of ringleaders?"

"My lord, we are not savages!"

"Of course. Of course. And the aim of this invasion will be strictly to take Faraataa?"

"No more than that, my lord."

"No attempt to overthrow the Danipiur? No campaign of general extermination of the Metamorphs?"

"Those ideas were never suggested."

"I see." His voice was curiously controlled, almost mocking: much unlike any tone Hissune had ever heard him use before. "And what other plans does the Council propose?"

"An army of pacification to occupy Piliplok—without bloodshed, if bloodshed can be avoided—and to take control of any other cities or provinces that may have seceded from the government. Also, neutralization of the various private armies established by the false Coronals now infesting many areas, and, if possible, the turning of those armies toward the service of the government. Finally, military occupation of any provinces that refuse to take part in a newly instituted program for sharing food supplies with afflicted zones."

"Quite a comprehensive scheme," Lord Valentine said, in that same odd detached tone. "And who will lead all these armies?"

"The Council has suggested dividing the command between my lord Divvis, my lord Tunigorn, and myself," replied Hissune.

"And I?"

"You will of course have supreme command over all our forces, my lord."

"Of course. Of course." Lord Valentine's gaze turned within, and for a long span of silence he appeared to be contemplating all that Hissune had said. Hissune watched him closely. There was something deeply troublesome about the Coronal's austere, restrained manner of questioning him: it seemed clear that Lord Valentine knew as well as Hissune himself where the conversation was heading, and Hissune found himself dreading the moment when it must get there. But that moment, Hissune realized, was already at hand. The Coronal's eyes brightened strangely as his attention turned once again toward Hissune, and he said, "Was anything else proposed by the Council of Regency, Prince Hissune?"

"One thing more, my lord."

"Which is?"

"That the commander of the army that will occupy Piliplok and other rebellious cities should be one who bears the title of Coronal."

"The Coronal, you have just told me, will be the supreme commander."

"No, my lord. The Pontifex must be the supreme commander."

The silence that followed seemed to endure for a thousand years. Lord Valentine stood almost motionless: he might have been a statue, but for the slight flickering of his eyelids and the occasional quiver of a muscle in his cheek. Hissune waited tensely, not daring to speak. Now that he had done it, he felt amazed at his own temerity in delivering such an ultimatum to the Coronal. But it was done. It could not be withdrawn. If Lord Valentine in his wrath were to strip him of his rank and send him back to beg in the streets of the Labyrinth, so be it: it was done, it could not be withdrawn.

The Coronal began to laugh.

It was a laughter that began somewhere deep within him and rose like a geyser through his chest to his lips: a great bellowing booming laugh, more the sort of sound that some giant like Lisamon Hultin or Zalzan Kavol might make than anything one would expect the gentle Lord Valentine to let loose. It went on and on, until Hissune began to fear that the Coronal had taken leave of his senses; but just then it ceased, swiftly and suddenly, and nothing remained of Lord Valentine's bizarre mirth but a strange glittering smile.