Michael Wichmen startled from fitful dreams, staring at the phosphorescent stars glued to his ceiling in strange configurations. He climbed from his bed, and walked to the small toy globe on his desk. His breath quickened as he ran his fingers over the raised surfaces of familiar shapes with names he could not remember. Where was Ionia? What of Greater Symkarita? When did Nordland shrink to the size of an island, and why was the mighty Kingdom of Congon broken into a score of small vassals? Where had he awakened after such strange visions of another Urthh?