He had tended to think it was the Coronal who was the true king, and the Pontifex a mere figurehead, since it was the Coronal who was seen actively commanding the forces of order whenever chaos threatened, the vigorous and dynamic Coronal, whereas the Pontifex remained immured down below, emerging from the Labyrinth only on the highest occasions of state.

But now he was not so certain.

The Pontifex himself might be merely a crazy old man, but the minions of the Pontifex, these hundreds of thousands of drab bureaucrats in their odd little masks, might collectively wield more authority on Majipoor than the dashing Coronal and all his princely aides. Down here the tax rolls were determined, here the balances of trade between province and province were adjusted, here the maintenance of highways and parks and educational establishments and all the other functions under provincial control were coordinated. Valentine was not at all convinced that true central government was possible on a world as big as Majipoor, but at least the basic forms of it existed, the structural outlines, and he saw, as he moved through the inner maze of the Labyrinth, that government on Majipoor was not altogether a matter of grand processionals and dream-sendings. The mighty hidden bureaucracy down here did most of the work. And he was caught in its toils. There were lodgings several levels down from the House of Records for provincial officials who were visiting the Labyrinth on government business; there he was given a suite of modest rooms, and there he stayed, ignored, for the next few days. There seemed to be no way to move beyond this point. As Coronal he would have the right of immediate access to the Pontifex, of course; but he was not Coronal, not in any effective sense, and to claim that he was would probably make it impossible for him to proceed at all.

He recalled, after some rooting about in his memory, the names of the chief ministers of the Pontifex. Unless things had changed lately, Tyeveras kept five plenipotentiary officials close by him — Hornkast, his high spokesman; Dilifon, his private secretary; Shinaam, a Ghayrog, his minister of external affairs; Sepulthrove, his minister of scientific matters and personal physician; and Narrameer, his dream-speaker, who was rumored to be the most powerful of all, the adviser who had chosen Voriax and then Valentine to be Coronal.

But to reach any of these five seemed as hard as to reach the Pontifex himself. Like Tyeveras they were buried in the depths, remote, inaccessible. Valentine’s skill with the circlet his mother had given him did not extend to making contact with the mind of someone unknown to him, at an unknown distance.

He learned shortly that two lesser, but still significant, officials served as the guardians of the central levels of the Labyrinth. These were the imperial major-domos, Dondak-Sajamir of the Su-Suheris stock and Gitamorn Suul, a human. "But," said Sleet, who had been talking with the keepers of the hostelry, "these two have been feuding for a year or more. They cooperate with one another as little as possible. And you must have the approval of both in order to see the higher ministers."

Carabella snorted in annoyance. "We’ll spend the rest of our lives gathering dust down here! Valentine, why are we bothering with the Labyrinth at all? Why not clear out of here and march straight for Castle Mount?"

"My idea exactly," said Sleet.

Valentine shook his head. "The support of the Pontifex is essential. So the Lady told me, and I agree."

"Essential for what?" Sleet demanded. "The Pontifex sleeps far below the ground. He knows nothing of anything. Does the Pontifex have any army to lend you? Does the Pontifex even exist?"

"The Pontifex has an army of petty clerks and officials," Deliamber pointed out mildly. "We will find them extremely useful. They, not warriors, control the balance of power in our world."

Sleet was unconvinced. "I say hoist the starburst banner and sound the trumpets and bang the drums and set out across Alhanroel, proclaiming you as Coronal and letting the whole world know of Dominin Barjazid’s little trick. In each city along the way, you meet with the key people and win their support with your warmth and sincerity, and maybe a little help from the Lady’s circlet. By the time you’re at Castle Mount, ten million people are marching behind you, and the Barjazid will surrender without a fight!"

"A pretty vision," said Valentine. "But I think we still must have the instrumentalities of the Pontifex working for us before we try to make any open challenge. I will pay calls on these two major-domos."

In the afternoon he was conducted to the headquarters of Dondak-Sajamir — a surprisingly bleak little office deep in a tangle of tiny clerkish cubicles. For more than an hour Valentine was kept waiting in a cramped and cluttered vestibule, before at last being admitted to the major-domo’s presence.

Valentine was not entirely sure how to manage things with a Su-Suheris. Was one head Dondak and the other Sajamir? Did you address both at once, or speak only to the head that spoke to you? Was it proper to keep your attention moving from one head to the other while talking?

Dondak-Sajamir regarded Valentine as though from a great height. There was tense silence in the office as the four cool green eyes of the alien dispassionately surveyed the visitor. The Su-Suheris was a slender, elongated creature, hairless and smooth-skinned, tubular and shoulderless in form, with a rod-shaped neck that rose like a pedestal to a height of ten or twelve inches and forked to provide support for the two narrow spindle-shaped heads. He bore himself with such an air of superiority that one could easily think that the office of major-domo to the Pontifex was far more important than that of the Pontifex himself. But some of that frosty hauteur, Valentine knew, was simply a function of the major-domo’s race: a Su-Suheris could not help looking naturally imperious and disdainful.

Eventually Dondak-Sajamir’s left-hand head said, "Why have you come here?"

"To apply for an audience with the chief ministers of the Pontifex."

"So it says in your letter. But what business do you have with them?"

"A matter of the greatest urgency, an affair of state."

"Yes?"

"You hardly expect me to discuss it with anyone below the highest levels of authority, surely."

Dondak-Sajamir considered that point interminably. When he spoke again, it was from the right-hand head. The second voice was much deeper than the first. "If I waste the time of the chief ministers, it will go hard for me."

"If you place obstacles between me and my seeing them, it will also go hard for you, ultimately."

"A threat?"

"Not at all. I can tell you only that the consequences of their not receiving the information I bear will be very serious for all of us — and no doubt they will be distressed to learn that it was you who kept that information from reaching them."

"Not I alone," said the Su-Suheris. "There is a second major-domo, and we must act jointly in approving applications of this sort. You have not spoken to my colleague yet."

"No."

"She is insane. She has deliberately and malevolently withheld her cooperation from me for many months." Now Dondak-Sajamir spoke from both heads simultaneously, in tones not quite an octave apart. The effect was weirdly disconcerting. "Even if I gave you approval, she would refuse. You will never get to see the chief ministers."

"But this is impossible! Can’t we go around her somehow?"

"It would be illegal."

"If she blocks all legitimate business, though—"

The Su-Suheris looked indifferent. "The responsibility is hers."

"No," Valentine said. "You both share it! You can’t simply say that because she won’t cooperate, I can’t go forward, when the survival of the government itself is at stake!"