“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?”
“Because—because—”
“Tell me.”
Sempeturn sagged until his knees were bent and his quivering hands hung almost to the ground.
“Because he stole the Coronal’s body during the time of the usurpation, and wears it yet—by the mercy and dispensation of the man he would have overthrown—”
“Ah. And who am I, then?”
“You are Lord Valentine,” Sempeturn said miserably.
“Wrong. Who am I, Sempeturn?”
“Valentine—Pontifex—Pontifex of Majipoor—”
“Indeed. At last. And if I am Pontifex, who is Coronal?”
“Whoever—you—say, your majesty.”
“I say he is Lord Hissune, who waits for you in Ni-moya, Sempeturn. Go: gather your knights, take your army east, serve your Coronal as he wishes. Go, Sempeturn! Go!”
He sent one last thrust of force toward Sempeturn, who reeled and swayed and shook, and at last fell to his knees. “Majesty—majesty—forgive me—”
“I will spend a night or two in Khyntor,” said Valentine, “and see to it that all is in order here. And then I think I must move on toward the west, where more work awaits me.” He turned and saw Carabella staring at him as though he had sprouted wings or horns. He smiled at her and lightly blew her a kiss. This is thirsty work, he thought. A good bowl or two of wine, now, if they have any in Khyntor, eh?
He glanced down at the dragon-tooth that he had held in his hands all this time and ran his fingers lightly over it, and heard once more the sound of bells, and thought that he felt the stirring of mighty wings within his soul. Carefully he wrapped the tooth in a piece of colored silk that he took from Carabella, and handed it to her, saying, “Guard this well, my lady, until I ask you for it again. I will have some great use for it, I think.” He looked into the crowd and caught sight of the woman Millilain who had given the tooth to him. Her eyes were fixed on his; and they blazed with a frightening intensity, as though she were staring with awe and rapture at some godlike being.
3
What sounded like a loud argument seemed to be going on just outside the door of his bedchamber, Hissune realized. He sat up, scowled, blinked groggily. Through the great window to his left he saw the red daybreak glow of the sun low on the eastern horizon. He had been awake far into the night preparing for the arrival this day of Divvis, and he was hardly pleased to be roused from sleep so soon after sunrise.
“Who’s out there?” he growled. “What in the name of the Divine is all that racket?”
“My lord, I have to see you at once!” Alsimir’s voice. “Your guards say you must not be awakened under any circumstances, but I absolutely must speak with you!”
Hissune sighed. “I seem to be awake,” he said. “You may as well come in.”
There was the sound of unbolting of the doors. After a moment Alsimir entered, looking greatly agitated.
“My lord—”
“What’s going on?”
“The city is under attack, my lord!”
Suddenly Hissune was fully awake. “Attack? By whom?”
“Strange monstrous birds,” Alsimir said. “With wings like those of sea dragons, and beaks like scythes, and claws that drip poison.”
“There are no birds of such a kind.”
“These must be some evil new creatures of the Shape-shifters that began entering Ni-moya shortly before dawn from the south, a great hideous flock, hundreds of them, perhaps thousands. Already they have taken fifty lives or more, and it will get much worse as the day goes on.” Alsimir went to the window. “See, my lord, there are some of them now, circling above the old palace of the duke—”
Hissune stared. A swarm of ghastly shapes soared and hovered in the clear morning sky: huge birds, bigger than gihornas, bigger even than miluftas and far more ugly. Their wings were not bird-wings but rather the sort of black leathery things, supported on outstretched fingerlike bones, that sea dragons had. Their beaks, wickedly sharp and curved, were flaming red, and their long outstretched claws were bright green. Fiercely they dived in quest of prey, swooping and rising and swooping again, while in the streets below people ran desperately for cover. Hissune watched one unwary boy of ten or twelve years, with schoolbooks under his arm, emerge from a building directly into the path of one of the creatures: it swept downward until it was no more than nine or ten feet above the ground, and its claws flicked out in a quick powerful assault that slashed through his tunic and ripped a bloody track up his back. As the bird swung swiftly upward again the boy went sprawling, hands slapping the pavement in wild convulsions. Then, almost at once, he was still, and three or four of the birds plummeted like stones from the sky, falling upon him and at once beginning to devour him.
Hissune muttered a curse. “You did well to awaken me. Have any countermeasures been taken yet?”
“We have some five hundred archers heading for the rooftops already, my lord. And we’re mobilizing the long-range energy-throwers as fast as we can.”
“Not enough. Not nearly enough. What we have to avoid is a general panic in the city—twenty million frightened civilians running around trampling each other to death. It’s vital to show them that we’re bringing the situation under control right away. Put five thousand archers up on the roofs. Ten thousand, if we have them. I want everybody who knows how to draw a bow up there taking part in this—all over the city, highly visible, highly reassuring.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And issue a general command to the citizens to stay indoors until further orders. No one is to go outside: no one, regardless of how urgent he thinks his business is, while the birds are still a menace. Also: have Stimion send word downriver to Divvis that we’re having a little trouble here and he’d better be on guard if he’s still planning to enter Ni-moya this morning. And I want you to send for that old man who runs that rare-animal zoo in the hills, the one I spoke with last week—Ghitain, Khitain, something like that. Tell him what’s been going on this morning, if he doesn’t already know, and bring him here under careful guard, and have someone collect a few of the dead birds and bring them here too, for him to examine.” Hissune turned to the window again, glowering. The boy’s body was wholly hidden by the birds, nine or ten of them now, that fluttered greedily about it. His schoolbooks lay scattered in a pathetic sprawl nearby. “Shapeshifters!” he exclaimed bitterly. “Sending monsters to make war on children! Ah, but we’ll have them pay dearly for this, Alsimir! We’ll feed Faraataa to his own birds, eh? Go, now: there’s much that needs doing.”