Galas returned to her seat. Jordan admired her through Armiger's eyes; she was not so old as she had appeared in the throne room—perhaps in her late thirties. This war was aging her prematurely, he thought. He wanted to touch her, but had never learned the trick of making Armiger's limbs move at his own urging.

"Why not just ask the Winds of another world?" asked the queen.

"There are no other Winds. There is no other place like Ventus."

Jordan watched Galas' eyes widen. He remembered sympathetically how he had reacted when Calandria told him the same thing. "But," she started, "you just spoke of millions of worlds—trillions of people—"

"There are a million organizing principles in human space. None resemble Ventus. Your world is unique, and the records of the design of the Winds were lost in a war centuries ago. Most of humanity lives in something known as the Archipelago—an immense region whose boundaries are so vague that much of its citizenry doesn't even know of its existence."

"Now you're talking madness," smiled the queen. "Not that anything you've said so far would survive debate in the House."

"Archipelago is the only answer to ruling a population of trillions, who own a million different cultures, mores and histories." He shrugged. "It is simple: an artificial intelligence—a mechal brain, if you will—exists that mediates things. It knows each and every citizen personally, and orchestrates their meetings with others, communications and so on so as to avoid irreconcilable conflict. Beyond that, it stays out of sight, for it has no values, no desires of its own. It is as if every person had their own guardian spirit, and these spirits never warred, but acted in concert to improve people's lives."

"A tyranny of condescension," said Galas.

"Yes. You worried earlier that everything was known. Well, yes and no. The government of the Archipelago has the sum of human knowledge and can speak it directly into people's minds. But it's only the sum of human knowledge. It is only one perspective. Here on Ventus, something quite different has come to exist. A new wisdom, you might say. The sum of the knowledge of an entire conscious world, unsullied by human perspective. Ventus, you see, is infinitely precious."

"Then why aren't they here? A trillion tourists from the sky?"

"The Winds don't permit visitors. Though there are a few, I suppose—researchers vainly trying to crack the cyphers of the Diadem Swans. Hiding from the Winds, of course."

"But you slipped in."

"I did. The Winds know something I must learn if I am to survive. I cannot speak to them. So I must ask you, as the one person on Ventus who knows them best, to help me."

"And why should I help?"

Armiger stood and walked to one of the tall windows. "Outside your gates is an army. That army did not need to come here. You need never have embarked on the path that led you here. And you knew things would end this way, didn't you? It was inevitable from the moment you began to try to change the fundamental beliefs of your people."

Below this high window he could see a crowded, hectic courtyard. Beyond that, walls, then the hazy, unbelievable crush of the besieging army.

"They had to kill you in the end," he said.

"Yes," said the queen in a small voice. "But I had to try... to end this long night that has swallowed the whole world."

He turned, and Jordan felt his eyes narrow, his mouth set hard. "Then help me. If I survive, I may well be able to do what you could not."

"I said, hello."

Jordan looked up. Suneil's niece Tamsin stood in front of him, arms crossed, her head cocked to one side.

He was annoyed at the interruption, and almost told her to go away-but he was a guest of these people, after all. "I was meditating."

"Uh, huh. Looked more like sleeping with your mouth open."

Jordan opened his mouth, closed it again, and then said, "Did you want something?"

"Uncle wants a good supply of firewood in the wagon before we get to the border. Isn't that why you're here, to do that stuff for us?"

Jordan stood and stretched. "It is indeed." He saw no need to say anything more to this shrew.

"Well good," she said as she followed him into the grass. "We wouldn't want any freeloaders on this trip."

Jordan noticed that Suneil was watching this exchange from the vicinity of the wagon. "I'll work my keep," said Jordan, as he increased his stride to outdistance her.

"See that you do!" she hollered. Then, apparently satisfied, she limped back to the wagon and began arguing with her uncle about something.

As soon as he was out of sight of the camp, Jordan sat down and tried to re-establish his link with Armiger. This time, it took all his concentration to bring the voices to him; Tamsin seemed to be a bad influence on his concentration. When the voices did return, he found that Armiger and the queen were now discussing military logistics. The terms meant nothing to Jordan, so he stood up with a sigh, and went to gather the wood.

When Jordan staggered back his first load of sticks, Suneil was sitting on the wagon's back step, but Tamsin was nowhere to be seen. "I apologize for my niece," said Suneil. "She lost her parents and sister recently. The shock has brought all her emotions to the surface."

"The war?"

Suneil nodded. "The war. We fled Iapysia three months ago to escape it. Now we're on our way back. They say the queen is defeated... maybe things have settled down."

"I don't know," said Jordan. "I know you can't run away forever." He longed for home. Once he had gotten Armiger to raise this curse that was on him, he would return to Castor's manor.

"Well spoken," said Suneil. "You were patient with her just now. I'm glad. She strikes out, but if you strike back, she'll shatter like glass. Just remember that. I know it's an imposition, but—"

Jordan waved a hand. "No, it's fine. These things happen. We have to help one another."

Suneil grinned. "Thanks. And thanks for the wood. We're going to need a lot more, though, when we get to the border."

"Why?"

Suneil glanced at him, raised an eyebrow. "Well, you said you're from Iapysia, you'd know there's no trees in the desert, wouldn't you?"

"Uh... yes, of course."

Suneil gave him an odd little smile, and walked away.

Two days' travel brought them deep into the barren hills that signified the border of Iapysia. He was confident now that the Winds did not know where he was. The gauze continued to protect him, and hence the people he travelled with. That was good; but he couldn't wear it for the rest of his life. He would have to find Armiger soon—or Calandria would, and either way there would be an end to this.

He was riding up front with Suneil when the wagon topped the crest of a particularly long hill, and Suneil reined in the horses. Standing to look at the vista below, Suneil sighed and said, "Home."

Jordan stood too. Sun had broken through a rent in the autumn clouds, illuminating the valley below within a vast golden rectangle. Within this frame, the land fell in a series of green steps to a landscape of grass and forest cradling a long sinuous lake. The road wound down switchbacks to the floor of the valley, and vanished beyond the sunlit frame at the far end of the lake, where the valley seemed to open out into a plain.

Jordan could see some blue-grey squares and lines near the lake. "Are those ruins?"

Suneil nodded. "That valley lies in Iapysia. The desert starts beyond it."

"It's beautiful. Nobody lives here?" He could see no sign of settlement, though he could easily imagine dozens of farms fitting in near the lake.

"The Winds do. It's okay to visit, but no one stays."

They sat down again, and Suneil flicked the reins. Over the past couple of days they had talked a lot about the local countryside, and Suneil had grilled Jordan at length about the war between Ravenon and the Seneschals. Jordan had spun a long tale about the destruction of Armiger's army and the death of the general, pretending he had heard it from other travellers.