Riktors had been hated by many people. It had never bothered him before. But he knew that, more than any other thing, he wanted this boy to love him. As he had loved Esste.
Impossible. What am I wishing for? Riktors asked himself. But even as he asked himself, Ansset took his hand and they walked off the flesket together, walked into the gate, and Riktors felt what little closeness they had had slipping away from him. He might as well still be on Tew, Riktors decided. He's lightyears away, even holding my hand. The Songhouse has a hold on him that will never let go.
Why the hell am I jealous?
And Riktors shook himself inwardly, and condemned himself for having let the Songhouse and this Songbird weave their spells around him. The Songbird is trained to win love. Therefore, I will not love him. And, once decided, it became very nearly true.
2
The Chamberlain was a busy man. It was the most noticeable thing about him. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet when he stood; he leaned forward as he walked; so anxious was he to reach his destination that even his feet could not keep up with him. And while he was graceful and interminably slow during ceremonies, his normal conversation was quick, the words tumbling out so that you dared not let your attention flag for a moment or you would miss something, and to ask him to repeat himself-ah, he would fly into a rage and there would be your promotion for the year, utterly lost.
So the Chamberlain's men were quick, too. Or rather, seemed to be quick. For it did not take long for those who worked for the Chamberlain to realize that his quickness was an illusion. His words were rapid, but his thoughts were slow, and he took five or six conversations to finally, get to a point that might have been said in a sentence. It was maddening, infuriating, so that his underlings went to infinite pains to avoid speaking to him.
Which was precisely what he wanted.
I am the Chamberlain, he said to Ansset, as soon as they were alone.
Ansset looked at him blankly. It took the Chamberlain a bit by surprise. There was usually some flicker of recognition, some half-smile that betrayed nervous awareness of his power and position. From the boy? Nothing.
You are aware, he went on without waiting any longer for a response, that I am administrator of this palace, and, by extension, this city. Nothing more. My authority does not extend any farther. Yet that authority includes you. Completely, utterly, without exception. You will do what I say.
Ansset looked at him unblinkingly.
Damn, but I hate dealing with children, the Chamberlain thought. They aren't even the same species.
You're a Songbird. You're incredibly valuable. Therefore you will not go outside without permission. My permission. You will be accompanied by two of my men at all times. You will follow the schedule prepared for you, which will include ample opportunity for recreation. I cannot have you out of my ken at any time. For the price paid for you, we could build another palace like this one and have room lefft over to outfit an army.
Nothing. No emotion at all.
Have you nothing to say?
Ansset smiled slightly. Chamberlain, I have my own schedules. Those are the ones I will keep. Or I cannot sing.
It was unheard of. The Chamberlain could say nothing, nothing at all as the boy smiled at him.
And as to your authority, Riktors Ashen already explained everything.
Did he? What did he explain?
You don't control everything, Chamberlain. You don't control the palace guard, which has its own Captain appointed by Mikal. You don't control any aspect of imperial government except palace administration and protocol. And no one, Chamberlain, controls me. Except me.
He had expected many things. But not to have a nine-year-old boy, however beautiful, speak with more command than an admiral of the fleet. Yet the boy's voice was an admirable lesson in strength. The Chamberlain, who was never confused, was thrown into confusion.
The Songhouse said nothing of this.
The Songhouse doesn't speak, Chamberlain. I must live in certain ways to be able to sing. If I can't live as I must, then I will go home.
This is impossible! There are schedules that must be followed!
Ansset ignored him. When do I meet Mikal?
When the schedule says so!
And when will that be?
When I say so. I make the schedule. I give access to Mikal or I deny access to Mikal!
Ansset only smiled and hummed soothingly. The Chamberlain felt very much relieved. Later he tried to think why, but couldn't.
That's better, the Chamberlain said. He was so relieved, in fact, that he sat down, the furniture flowing to fit him perfectly. Ansset, you have no idea what an incredible burden the office of Chamberlain is.
You have a lot to do. Riktors told me.
The Chamberlain had very good self-control. He prided himself on it. He would have been distressed to know that Ansset read the flickers of emotion in his voice and knew that the Chamberlain had little love for Riktors Ashen.
I wonder, the Chamberlain said. I wonder if perhaps you might just sing something now. Music soothes the savage breast, you know.
I would love to sing for you, Ansset said.
The Chamberlain waited a moment, then gazed questioningly at Ansset.
But, Chamberlain, said Ansset, I'm Mikal's Songbird. I can't sing for anyone until I've met him and he's given his consent.
There was just enough of mockery in the Songbird's voice that the Chamberlain went hot inside, embarrassed, as if he had tried to sleep with his master's wife and found that she was merely amused at him. The child was going to be a horror.
I'll speak to Mikal about you.
He knows I'm here. He was quite impatient to have me come, I heard.
I said that I would speak to Mikal!
The Chamberlain whirled and left, a quick, dramatic exit; but the drama was spoiled when Ansset's voice came gently after him, gently and yet exactly loud enough that it could have been whispering in his ear: Thank you. And the thank you was full of respect and gratitude so that the Chamberlain couldn't be angry, indeed could think of no reason for anger. The boy was obviously going to be compliant. Obviously.
The Chamberlain went straight to Mikal, something that only a few were allowed to do, and told him that the Songbird was there and eager to meet him, and was definitely a charming boy, if a bit stubborn, and Mikal said, Tonight at twenty-two, and the Chamberlain left and told his men what to do and when to do it and adjusted the schedules to fit that appointment and then realized:
He had done exactly what the boy had wanted. He had changed everything to fit the boy.
I have been outclassed, said the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.
I hate the little bastard, said the hot flush in his cheeks a moment later.
The contract said he'd be here for six years. The Chamberlain thought of six years and they were long. Terribly, terribly long.
3
The palace had no music. Ansset finally realized it with relief. Something had been nagging him since he arrived. It was not the impersonal search by the security guards or the casual way that he seemed to be fit into a machine and processed. He expected things to be different, and since everything was strange compared to life in the Songhouse, none of it should have felt wrong. He had a far from cosmopolitan outlook, but the Songhouse had never allowed him to think that the Songhouse way was right and all other ways were not. Rather the Songhouse was home, and this was merely a different place.