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Though it was distressing to conceive of losing Pie； he refused himself the indulgence of denying the possibility。 He'd turned a blind eye on the unpalatable too often in the past； with catastrophic results。 Now the facts had to be faced。 The mystif was being frailer by the hour； its skin icy； its breath so shallow that on occasion it was barely discernible。 Even if all that Nikaetomaas had said about the Erasure's healing powers proved correct； there would be no miracle cure for such a profound malady。 Gentle would have to go back to the Fifth alone； trusting that Pie 'oh' pah would be fit enough to follow after a time。 The longer he delayed that return； the less opportunity he'd have to muster assistance in the war against Sartori。
That war would e； he had no doubt of it。 The urge to conquer burned bright in his other； as it had perhaps once burned in him； until desire and luxury and forgetfulness had dimmed it。 But where would he find such allies？ Men and women who wouldn't laugh （the way he'd have laughed； six months before） when he started to talk about the Dominion…hopping he'd done and the jeopardy the world was in from a man with his face？ Certainly he wouldn't find imaginations among his peer group supple enough to embrace the vistas he was returning to describe。 They were fashionably disdainful of belief； having had the flesh…as…star…stuff hopes of youth dashed by midnight sweats and their morning reflection。 The most he'd heard any of them confess to was a vague pantheism； and they'd deny even that when sober。 Of them all he'd only ever heard Clem espouse any belief in organized religion； and those dogmas were as antithetical to the message he was bringing from the Dominions as the tenets of a nihilist。 Even if Clem could be persuaded from the munion rail to join Gentle； they would be an army of two against a Maestro who had honed his powers until they could mand Dominions。
There was one other possibility； and that was Judith。 She would certainly not mock his wanderer's tales； but she'd been treated so heinously from the start of this tragedy that he dared not expect forgiveness from her； much less fellowship。 Besides； who knew where her true sympathies lay？ Though she might resemble Quaisoir to the last hair； she'd been made in the same bloodless womb that had produced the Autarch。 Was she not therefore his spiritual sister： not born； but made？ If she had to choose between the butcher of Yzordderrex and those seeking to destroy him； could she be trusted to side with the destroyers； when their victory would mean she'd lose the only creature in the Imajica who shared her condition？ Though she and Gentle had meant much to each other （who knew how many liaisons they'd enjoyed over the centuries； reigniting the desire which had brought them together in the first place； then parting again； forgetting they'd even met？） he had to treat her with the utmost caution from this point on。 She'd been innocent in the dramas of an earlier age； a toy in cruel and careless hands。 But the woman she'd bee over the decades was neither victim nor toy； and if （or perhaps when） she became aware of her past she was perfectly capable of revenging herself upon the man who'd made her； however much she'd claimed to love him once。
Seeing that his passenger was now awake； Floccus gave Gentle a progress report。 They were making good time； he said。 Within an hour they'd be in the mountains； on the other side of which the desert lay；
〃How long do you estimate to the Erasure？〃 Gentle asked him。
''We'll be there before nightfall；〃 Floccus promised。 〃How's the mystif faring？〃
〃Not well； I'm afraid。〃
〃There'll be no cause to mourn；〃 Floccus said brightly； 〃I've known people on death's door who were healed at the Erasure。 It's a place of miracles。 But then everywhere is； if we just knew how to look。 That's what Father Athanasius taught me。 You were in prison with Athanasius； weren't you？〃
〃I was never exactly imprisoned。 Not the way he was。〃
〃But you met him？〃
〃Oh； yes。 He was priest at our wedding。〃
〃You and mystif； you mean？ You're married？〃 He whistled。 〃Now you； sir； are what I call a lucky man。 I've heard a lot about these mystifs； and I never heard of one getting married before。 They're usually lovers。 Heartbreakers。〃 He whistled again。 〃Well； that's wonderful；〃 he said。 〃We'll make sure she makes it； sir； don't you worry。 Oh； I'm sorry。 She's not a she； is she？ I've got to get that right。 It's just that when I look at her…I mean it…I see a she； you know？ I suppose that's the wonder of them。〃
〃It's part of it。〃
〃Can I ask you something？〃
〃Ask away。〃
〃When you look at her； what do you see？〃
〃I've seen all kinds of things；〃 Gentle replied。 〃I've seen women。 I've seen men。 I've even seen myself。〃
〃But at the moment；〃 Floccus said。 〃What do you see right now？〃
Gentle looked at the mystif。 〃I see Pie；〃 he said。 〃I see the face I love。〃
Floccus made no reply to this； and after such gushing enthusiasm Gentle knew there had to be some significance in his silence。
〃What are you thinking？〃 he asked。
〃Do you really want to know？〃
〃I do。 We're friends； aren't we？ At least getting that way。 Tell me。〃
〃I was thinking it's not good you care too much about the way she looks。 The Erasure's no place to be in love with things as they are。 People heal there； but they also change； you understand？〃 He took both hands off the wheel to make cupped palms； like scales。 〃There's got to be a balance。 Something given； something taken away。〃
〃What kind of changes？〃 Gentle said。
〃Different from one to another；〃 Floccus said。 〃But you'll see for yourself； very soon。 When we get close to the First Dominion； nothing's quite as it seems。〃
〃Isn't that true of everything？〃 Gentle said。 〃The more I live； the less I seem to be certain about。〃
Floccus' hands were back on the wheel； his burst of sunny talk suddenly overcast。 〃I don't think Father Athanasius ever talked about that；〃 he said。 〃Maybe he did。 I don't remember everything he said。〃
The conversation ended there； leaving Gentle to wonder if in bringing the mystif back to the borders of the Dominion from which its people had been exiled； returning the great transformer to a land in which transformation was a monplace； he was undoing the knot Athanasius had tied in the Cradle of Chzercemit。
Jude had never been much impressed with architectural rhetoric； and she found nothing in the courtyards or corridors of the Autarch's palace to dissuade her from that indifference。 There were some sights that put her in mind of natural splendors： smoke drifting across the forsaken gardens like morning mist； or clinging to the cold stone of the towers like cloud to a mountain spire。 But such punnish pleasures were few。 It was mostly bombast： everything built on a scale intended to be awe…inspiring but to her eye merely monolithic。
She was glad when they finally reached Quaisoir's quarters； which for all their absurd ornamentation were at least humanized by their excesses。 And they also heard there the first friendly voice in many hours； though its weling tones turned to horror when its owner； Quaisoir's many…tailed handmaiden； Concupiscentia； saw that her