The progression of change was not obvious to Hecht. The despair harrying the edges of the world required no trained eye, however. The entire north, down to the Shallow Sea, was buried under ice. The Shallow Sea itself showed only scattered pools of open water, suggesting leaks of power from the underwater wells common there and in the Andorayan Sea. The Ormo Strait, despite vicious tidal bores, had become an icy bridge. Elsewhere, wherever there were mountains, there were permanent accumulations of snow. Areas exposed by the dropping sea levels were a sickly gray in color. Some, along the northwest coast, were extensive.

Delari said, "Overall, they're way behind reports. This represents the situation at the end of last winter."

"Planning, you say?"

"The advancing ice is pushing whole peoples ahead of it. The ice might explain Tsistimed the Golden and the Hu'n-tai At. When their grasslands could no longer support their herds they had to move somewhere else."

"So you're trying to predict where problems will pop up in time to do something useful."

"Yes. Though there doesn't seem to be much point to the project, now. Sublime isn't interested in anything but his own delusions. He'll still be ranting about crusades when the ice comes over the city wall."

"It can't happen that fast, can it?"

"No. It won't get here for generations. Which is good, Sublime being mortal. My hopes aren't high, though. My predecessors couldn't interest the Patriarchs much, either."

"Some of that isn't natural. Are they markers of some kind?"

"Yes. Supernatural phenomena are part of the landscape. So are power leaks. And anything else somebody wanted to track."

Hecht looked south of the Mother Sea, at the Realm of Peace. The Praman Conquest. The Principal's project had not gotten perfect reports out of the Praman world. But the details were better than anyone over there would like.

Changes were smaller there. So far. There were no fields of ice or snow. But the deserts were shrinking because of increased rainfalls.

"Enough for now," Delari said. "I just wanted you to know this resource is here."

Hecht knew he had missed something important to the old man. To do with the map? With the Night? Or had he hoped to find Hecht armed with some talent he was unaware of himself?

"We'll revisit later. You must be behind in your work."

The Principate took a stairwell directly to his own apartment. And made the climb without killing himself.

Hecht headed for the Castella dollas Pontellas. Principal Delari still looked mildly disappointed.

ANNA BROUGHT THE CHILDREN TO TlTUS CONSENT'S conversion ceremony. Over Hecht's objections. Pella might behave like the street creature he was. Vali would irritate people by not responding when they told her how pretty she was.

His dread was misplaced. Anna had tamed the boy. She cleaned and polished and dressed Pella till he whimpered. She had him convinced that the end of the world would taste sweeter than what would come down if he embarrassed the Captain-General.

His final assignment was to stick with Vali and explain that she was mute. Vali was expected to bow and curtsy at appropriate moments.

"You stop fussing, Piper," Anna told Hecht in the coach. They'll be fine. Worry about yourself. What do you have to do?"

Hecht had only a vague notion of his part in the ceremony.

"How come they's all them soldiers?" Pella wanted to know as they neared the Delari family's city residence. It was modest by the standards of the Principate's class. Contingents from the Brotherhood of War, the City Regiment, and Hecht's own small in-town Patriarchal guards company filled the street. Most wore formal parade costume. But a few remained in mufti, there for trouble instead of show-

"In case the Deves try to keep Titus from converting."

They won't commit murder over it," Anna said. "One more time. What do you do?"

Until only a short time ago Hecht had had no idea how a conversion ceremony went. It was similar to a child's confirmation.

He rehearsed it aloud as the coach came to a stop.

Anna said, "You've got it." She told the children, "He's never done this before."

Hecht grunted. "Where I come from they baptize babies when they're born because so many die. And conversions usually happen at sword's point, blessed by the nearest sober priest."

Pella said, "I don't think I'd like Duarnenia, sir."

"Me neither. That's why I left. Watch that puddle. Those shoes cost a fortune."

"Piper!"

"I can't help it, honey. I grew up poor."

Anna's schooling proved adequate. Principate Delari, as Consent's sponsor, required nothing of Hecht but a ritual attest to the excellent character of the candidate.

There was little pomp and circumstance. A few questions and responses, a "Who presents this man?" and the remarks about what a good fellow he was, followed by a ritual laying on of hands by the Bruglioni and Arniena Principates, then Bronte Doneto, and Titus Consent became an Episcopal Chaldarean of considerable stature.

Consent seemed appropriately excited. Hecht did note that Noe and the children did not go through the ceremony. Though, as Consent's wife, Noe would be whatever Titus decided. The children were not old enough for baptism and confirmation, the way those were handled locally.

Hecht shook Consent's hand. "I admire your courage, Lieutenant." He presented the customary baptismal gift of a coin. For children that was usually, a small silver piece. Hecht turned over a gold solidus, or five-ducat piece, which bore the bust and crest of a long-dead, obscure Patriarch named Boniface. The senior military men, including Colonel Smolens, Clej Sedlakova, Hagan Brokke, and members of their staffs, were equally generous. Consent had to start a new life. His situation would be difficult. His skills were crucial.

Despite his background, Consent was well liked.

"Thank you, sir. Courage isn't as important as knowing what you want, though."

Principate Delari was more generous than Piper Hecht. After amenities, the old man said, "If I can borrow you for a moment, Piper, I need a word in private."

"Or course, sir. If you'll excuse me, Lieutenant?"

This time the official rank and title sank in. Hecht watched Consent's face light up. He had been welcomed to the tribe he had chosen over his old.

"Sir?"

"When we're in private."

The Principate led the way upstairs, away from the public rooms. Hecht had deemed those austere, even by his own standards. The private quarters were more so.

Here Principate Muniero Delari had no congress with decadence or sinful luxury. Hecht considered a man who chose to live that way one worthy of respect. But only here. His Chiaro Palace apartment lacked no comfort desired by his boy.

Delari took Hecht into a room with four unpainted plaster walls, furnished with one rude table, three rude chairs, and two clay lamps burning cheap, unscented oil. Hecht's amulet tingled.

Delari sat, said, "I've examined the matter of Rudenes Schneidel. He is in Viscesment." Delari pulled a cord. A bell tinkled somewhere, muted.

"You have? So soon? How?"

"I'm a member of the Collegium, Piper. And not one of the hacks. There is some basis to the rumors about us. Which, I'm pleased to see, are the subject of public disparagament lately."

"Oh."

"Occasionally, I worry about your powers of observation, Piper. I fear that my son overestimated you."

"I worry about that, too. I never understood why he chose to mentor me. So, did you find out anything useful about Schneidel?"

"Very little. But enough to caution you against sending someone after him. Unless there's someone you want to dispose of without taking the blame."

A woman came in. Hecht had seen her downstairs, looking vaguely out of place. She was tall, faded blond, and worn down by life. She brought coffee and cups. Hecht pulled the aroma into his lungs. Coffee was his biggest vice. "Ah. The best Ambonypsgan beans." He sighed. "You're much too good to me, sir."