"It is a complicated business. Prince Dhrun arrives aboard his ship the Nementhe on which he serves as first officer. King Aillas, so it appears, has been delayed at Domreis. His young queen is eight months heavy with child, and there was some question as to whether King Aillas would come at all. But we have had late report that he is on his way. Prince Dhrun, however, should be on hand at any moment; his vessel entered the Cambermouth this morning on the tide."

Madouc turned to look about the hall. At the far end, an archway opened into an atrium illuminated by high glass skylights. To either side stood monumental statues, ranked in a pair of opposing rows.

The under-chamberlain observed the direction of Madouc's gaze. "You are looking into the Court of Dead Gods. The statues are very old."

"How is it known that these gods are dead? Or truly dead, for that matter?"

The under-chamberlain gave a whimsical shrug. "I have never gone deeply into the subject. Perhaps when gods are no longer venerated, they fade, or dissipate. The statues yonder were worshipped by the ancient Evadnioi, who preceded the Pelasgians. In Troicinet Gaea is still reckoned the Great Goddess, and in the sea near Ys is a temple dedicated to Atlante. Perhaps these gods are not dead after all. Would you like to see them more closely? I can spare a few moments, until the next party of dignitaries arrives."

"Why not! Kylas will surely not come to seek me among the ‘Dead Gods'."

The under-chamberlain took Madouc into the Court of Dead Gods. "See yonder! There stands Cron the Unknowable, across from his terrible spouse Hec, the Goddess of Fate. For a game they created the difference between ‘yes' and ‘no'; then, once again becoming bored, they ordained the distinction between ‘something' and ‘nothing'. When these diversions palled, they opened their hands and through their fingers let trickle matter, time, space and light, and at last they had created enough to hold their interest."

"All very well," said Madouc. "But where did they learn this intricate lore?"

"Aha!" said the under-chamberlain wisely. "That is where the mystery begins! When theologians are asked as to the source of Cron and Hec, they pull at their beards and change the subject. It is certainly beyond my understanding. We know for a fact that only Cron and Hec are father and mother to all the rest. There you see Atlante, there Gaea; there is Fantares, there Aeris. These are the divinities of water, earth, fire and air. Apollo the Glorious is God of the Sun; Drethre the Beautiful is Goddess of the Moon. There you see Fluns, Lord of Battles; facing him is Palas, Goddess of the Harvest. Finally: Adace and Aronice stand in opposition, as well they might! For six months of each year Adace is the God of Pain, Cruelty and Evil, while Aronice is the Goddess of Love and Kindness. At the time of the equinoxes they change roles and for the next six months, Adace is the God of Bravery, Virtue and Clemency, while Aronice is the Goddess of Spite, Hatred and Treachery. For this reason they are known as ‘The Fickle Pair'."

"Ordinary folk change by the hour, or even by the minute," said Madouc. "By comparison, Adace and Aronice would seem to be steadfast. Still, I would not care to be a member of their household."

"That is an astute observation," said the under-chamberlain. He inspected her once again. "Am I mistaken, or might you be the distinguished Princess Madouc of Lyonesse?"

"So I am known, at least for the moment."

The under-chamberlain bowed. "You may know me as Tibalt, with the rank of esquire. I am happy to assist Your Highness! Please advise me if I may continue to be of service!"

Madouc asked: "From sheer curiosity, where is the table Cairbra an Meadhan?"

Tibalt, with a brave flourish, pointed his finger. "The portal yonder leads into the Hall of Heroes."

Madouc said: "You may conduct me to this hail, if you will."

"With pleasure."

A pair of men-at-arms, halberds at vertical rest, stood immobile by the portal; their eyes moved by not so much as a flicker at the approach of Madouc and Tibalt; the two passed unchallenged into the Hall of Heroes.

Tibalt said: "This is the oldest part of Falu Ffail. No one knows who laid these great stones! You will have noticed that the chamber is circular and commands a diameter of thirty-three yards. And there is the Round Table: Cairbra an Meadhan!"

"So I see."

The total diameter is fourteen yards and eleven ells. The outer ring is five feet across, and is constructed of rock elm laid on oak timbers, leaving a central opening about eleven yards in diameter."

Tibalt conducted Madouc around the table. "Notice the bronze plaques: they name paladins of long past ages, and indicate their places at the table."

Madouc bent to study one of the plaques. "The characters are of archaic style, but legible. This one reads: ‘Here sits Sir Gahun of Hack, fierce as the north wind and relentless in battle.'

Tibalt was impressed. "You are adept in the skill of reading! But then, that is the prerogative of a princess!"

"True enough," said Madouc. "Still, many common folk can do as well, if they apply themselves. I recommend the sleight to you; it is not so hard after the many peculiar shapes become familiar."

"Your Highness has inspired me!" declared Tibalt. "I will begin to master this skill at once. Now then!" Tibalt pointed across the chamber. "There you see Evandig, the Throne of the Elder Kings. We stand in the presence of the mighty! It is said that once each year their ghosts gather in this hall to renew old friendships. And now what? Will you see more of this hall? It is a trifle gloomy, and used only at state occasions."

"Will it be used during the present colloquy?"

"Definitely so!"

"Where will King Casmir sit, and where King Aillas and Prince Dhrun?"

"As to this, I am ignorant; it is in the province of the seneschal and the heralds. Will you see any more?"

"No, thank you."

Tibalt led Madouc back through the portai and into the Court of Dead Gods. From the reception chamber came the sound of many voices.

Tibalt spoke in agitation: "Excuse me, please; I am absent from my post! Someone has arrived and I would suspect it to be Prince Dhrun with his escort!"

Tibalt ran off with Madouc following close behind. She entered the reception hall to discover Prince Dhrun and three Troice dignitaries in the company of King Audry, along with the Princes Dorcas, Whemus and Jaswyn, and the two princesses, Cloire and Mahaeve. Madouc sidled through the press of courtiers, hoping to approach Dhrun, but without success; he and his company were led away by King Audry.

Madouc slowly returned to her own rooms. She found Kylas sitting stonily in the parlour.

Kylas spoke in clipped tones: "When I returned from your errand, you were gone. Where did you go?"

"That is beside the point," said Madouc. "You must not trouble yourself with details of this nature."

"It is my duty to attend you," said Kylas stubbornly.

"When I require your assistance, I will notify you. As for now, you may retire to your own quarters."

Kylas rose to her feet. "I will be back presently. A maid has been assigned to your service and will help you dress for the evening banquet; the queen has suggested that I help you select a suitable gown from your wardrobe."

"That is nonsense," said Madouc. "I need no advice. Do not return until I summon you."

Kylas stalked from the room.

Madouc dressed early, and after only a moment's indecision chose the gown of Black Rose velvet. She left early and alone for the Great Hall, where she hoped to find Dhrun before the start of the banquet. Dhrun was not on hand. Prince Jaswyn, Audry's third son, a dark-haired youth fifteen years old, came forward and escorted her to a place at the table beside his own, with Prince Raven of Pomperol to her other side.