"He must dwell here!" said Dilifon again. "How can the new Coronal assert his power, if the Pontifex is also apparent to the citizens of the upper world?"

"Perhaps that is Valentine's plan," Shinaam suggested. "He makes himself Pontifex, because he can no longer avoid it, but by remaining above he continues to play the active role of a Coronal, reducing this Lord Hissune of his to a subordinate position. By the Lady, I never thought him so crafty!"

"Nor I," said Dilifon.

Hornkast said, shrugging, "We have no idea what his intent may be, except that so long as the war continues, he will not come to this place. And his court will follow him about: for we are all relieved of our posts, in the moment when the succession occurs." He looked slowly about the room. "And I remind you that we have been speaking of Valentine as Pontifex, when in fact the succession has not yet occurred.

That is our final responsibility."

"Ours?" said Shinaam.

"Would you shirk it?" Hornkast asked. "Then go: go, take to your bed, old man, and we will do our work without you. For we must move on to the throne-room now, and discharge our duty. Dilifon? Narrameer?"

"I will accompany you," Shinaam said dourly.

Hornkast led the way: a slow procession, a parade of antiquities. Several times it was necessary to wait while Dilifon, leaning on the arms of two burly aides, paused for breath. But at last they stood outside the great door of the imperial chamber; and once more Hornkast slipped his hand into the recognition glove and touched the door-opening device, a task that he knew he would never perform again.

Sepulthrove stood beside the intricate life-support globe that housed the Pontifex.

"It is very strange," the physician said. "After this long silence, he speaks again. Listen: he stirs now."

And from within the sphere of blue glass came the whistling and gurgling sounds of the voice of Tyeveras; and then, plainly, as he had once before done, he could be heard to say, "Come. Rise. Walk."

"The same words," said Sepulthrove.

"Life! Pain! Death!"

"I think he knows," Hornkast said. "I think he must."

Sepulthrove frowned. "Knows what?"

Hornkast indicated the decree. "This is Lord Valentine's proclamation of grief upon the loss of Majipoor's great emperor."

"I see," said the physician, and his hawk-featured face turned dark with congested blood. "So it finally must come."

"Indeed."

"Now?" Sepulthrove asked. His hands trembled. He held them poised above a bank of controls.

From the Pontifex came one last burst of words:

"Life, Majesty. Death. Valentine Pontifex of Majipoor!"

There was a terrible silence.

"Now," Hornkast said.

8

Endlessly back and forth across the sea, now sailing once more from the Isle to Zimroel: it was beginning to seem to Valentine that in one of his former lives he must have been that legendary ancient captain Sinnabor Lavon, who had set out to make the first crossing of the Great Sea and given up the voyage after five years, and who perhaps for that had been condemned to be reborn and sail from land to land without ever halting for rest. But Valentine felt no weariness now, and no yearning to give up this life of wandering that he had undertaken. In a way—a strange and unexpected way— he was still making his grand processional.