Hornkast said, "The Pontifex gives greeting to his beloved son Lord Valentine the Coronal."

Valentine repressed a shudder. "Tell his majesty— tell him— tell him that his son Lord Valentine the Coronal comes to him in love and respect, as always."

That was the convention: that one did not ever speak directly to the Pontifex, that one phrased one’s sentences as though the high spokesman would repeat everything, although in fact the spokesman did not do so.

The Pontifex spoke again, as indistinctly as before. Hornkast said, "The Pontifex expresses his concern for the disturbance that has occurred in the realm. He asks what plans Lord Valentine the Coronal has for restoring the proper system of things."

"Tell the Pontifex," said Valentine, "that I plan to march toward Castle Mount, calling upon all citizens to give me their allegiance. I ask from him a general directive branding Dominin Barjazid a usurper and denouncing all those who support him."

From the Pontifex now came more animated sounds, sharp and high of pitch, with weird compelling energy behind them.

Hornkast said, "The Pontifex wishes to be assured that you will avoid battle and the destruction of lives, if at all possible."

"Tell him that I would prefer to regain Castle Mount without the loss of a single life on either side. But I have no idea whether that can be achieved."

Odd gurgling sounds. Hornkast looked puzzled. He stood with his head cocked, listening intently.

"What does he say?" Valentine whispered.

The high spokesman shook his head. "Not everything his majesty says can be interpreted. Sometimes he moves in realms too remote from our experience."

Valentine nodded He looked with pity and even with love on the grotesque old man, caged within the globe that sustained his life, able to communicate only in this dreamlike moaning. More than a century old, for decade after decade supreme monarch of the world, now drooling and babbling like a child — and yet somewhere within that decaying softening brain still ticked the mind of the Tyeveras that had been, trapped in the breakdown of the flesh. To behold him now was to understand the ultimate meaninglessness of supreme rank: a Coronal lived in the world of deeds and moral responsibility, only to succeed to the Pontificate and finally to vanish into the Labyrinth and crazy senility. Valentine wondered how often a Pontifex had become the captive of his spokesman and his doctor and his dream-speaker, and finally had had to be eased from the world so that the grand rotation of the Powers could bring a more vital man to the throne. Valentine comprehended now why the system separated the doer and the ruler, why the Pontifex eventually hid himself away from the world in this Labyrinth. His own time would come, down here: but, the Divine willing, it would not be soon.

He said, "Tell the Pontifex that Lord Valentine the Coronal, his worshipful son, will do his utmost to repair the rift in the fabric of society. Tell the Pontifex that Lord Valentine counts on his majesty’s support, without which there can be no swift restoration."

There was silence from the throne, and then a long painful outwelling of incomprehensibility, a jumble of fluting gargling sounds that wandered up and down the scale like the eerie melodies of the Ghayrog mode. Hornkast appeared to be straining to catch even a syllable of sense here and there. The Pontifex ceased speaking, and Hornkast, troubled, tugged at his jowls, chewed at his lip.

"What was all that?" Valentine asked.

"He thinks you are Lord Malibor," said Hornkast dejectedly. "He cautions you against the risks of going to sea to hunt dragons."

"Wise counsel," said Valentine. "But it comes too late."

"He says the Coronal is too precious to gamble his life in such amusements."

"Tell him that I agree, that if I regain Castle Mount I’ll cling closely to my tasks, and avoid any such diversions."

The physician Sepulthrove came forward and said quietly, "We are tiring him. This audience must end, I fear."

"One moment more," Valentine said.

Sepulthrove frowned. But Valentine, with a smile, advanced again to the foot of the throne, and knelt there, and held his outspread hands up toward the ancient creature within the glass bubble, and, slipping into the trance-state, sent forth his spirit toward Tyeveras, bearing impulses of reverence and affection. Had anyone ever shown affection toward the formidable Tyeveras before? Very likely not. But for decades this man had been the center and soul of Majipoor, and now, sitting here lost in a timeless dream of governance, aware only intermittently of the responsibilities that once had been his, he deserved such love as his adoptive son and someday successor could bestow, and Valentine gave as fully as the powers of the circlet would permit.

And Tyeveras seemed to grow stronger, his eyes to brighten, his cheeks to take on a ruddy tint. Was that a smile on those shriveled lips? Did the left hand of the Pontifex lift, ever so slightly, in a gesture of blessing? Yes. Yes. Yes. Beyond doubt the Pontifex felt the flow of warmth from Valentine, and welcomed it, and was responding. Tyeveras spoke briefly and almost coherently. Hornkast said, "He says he grants you his full support, Lord Valentine."

Live long, old man, Valentine thought, getting to his feet and bowing. Probably you would rather sleep forever, but I must wish upon you a longer life even than you have already had, for there is work for me to do on Castle Mount.

He turned away.

"Let’s go," he told the five ministers. "I have what I need."

They marched soberly from the throne-room. As the door swung shut behind them Valentine glanced at Sepulthrove and said, "How long can he survive like that?"

The physician shrugged. "Almost indefinitely. The system sustains him perfectly. We could keep him going, with some repairs every now and then, another hundred years."

"That won’t be necessary. But he may have to stay with us another twelve or fifteen. Can you do that?"

"Count on it," said Sepulthrove.

"Good. Good." Valentine stared at the shining winding passageway that sloped upward before him. He had been in the Labyrinth long enough. The time had come to return to the world of sun and wind and living things, and to settle matters with Dominin Barjazid. To Hornkast he said, "Return me to my people and prepare transportation for us to the outer world. And before my departure I’ll want a detailed study of the military forces and supporting personnel you’ll be able to place at my disposal."

"Of course, my lord," the high spokesman said.

My lord. It was the first indication of submission that he had had from the ministers of the Pontifex. The main battle was yet to come; but Valentine felt, hearing those two small words, almost as though he had already regained Castle Mount.