"An impostor can make no legitimate appointments," Sempeturn rejoined.

"But I am Valentine who was Coronal before him, and who now is Pontifex—by will of the Divine also, so it is generally believed."

Sempeturn grinned darkly. "You were an impostor when you claimed to be Coronal, and you are an impostor now!"

"Can that be so? Was I acclaimed wrongly, then, by all the princes and lords of the Mount, and by the Pontifex Tyeveras, may he rest always at the Source, and by my own mother the Lady?"

"I say you deceived them all, and the curse that has descended on Majipoor is best proof of that. For the Valentine who was made Coronal was a dark-complected man, and look at you—your hair is bright as gold!"

Valentine laughed. "But that is an old story, friend! Surely you know of the witchery that deprived me of my body and put me into this one!"

"So you say."

"And so the Powers of the realm agreed."

"Then you are a master of deceit," said Sempeturn. "But I will waste no more time with you, for I have urgent tasks. Go: get you back into Hot Khyntor, and board your ship and sail yourself off down the river. If you are found in this province by this hour tomorrow you will regret it most sorely."

"I will leave soon enough, Lord Sempeturn. But first I must ask a service of you. These soldiers of yours—the Knights of Dekkeret, do you call them?—we have need of them to the east, on the borders of Piurifayne, where the Coronal Lord Hissune is assembling an army. Go to him, Lord Sempeturn. Place yourself under his command. Do what he asks of you. We are aware of what you have accomplished in gathering these troops, and we would not deprive you of leadership over them: but you must make yourself part of the greater effort."

"You must be a madman," Sempeturn said.

"I think otherwise."

"Leave my city unguarded? March off thousands of miles to surrender my authority to some usurper?"

"It is necessary, Lord Sempeturn."

"In Khyntor I alone decide what is necessary!"

"That must change," said Valentine. He slipped easily into the waking trance, and sent forth the merest tendril of his mind toward Sempeturn, and played with him, and brought a frown of confusion from the red-faced man. He sent into Sempeturn's mind the image of Dominin Barjazid, wearing the body that once had been his own, and said, "Do you recognize that man, Lord Sempeturn?"

"He—he—he is the former Lord Valentine!"

"No," said Valentine, and hurled a full jolt of his mental force at the false Coronal of Khyntor.

Sempeturn lurched and nearly fell, and clutched at the men in green and gold about him, and the color of his cheeks deepened until it was the purple of overripe grapes.

"Who is that man?" Valentine asked.

"He is the brother of the King of Dreams," whispered Sempeturn.

"And why does he wear the features of the former Lord Valentine?"