How will I know?
It will be obvious to you. Just go and tell him or her that he or she is supposed to take care of funeral arrangements. It's all that simple. But you really ought to act quickly. The Songhouse shouldn't be long without someone in the High Room.
He turned back to his work with a finality that told Kya-Kya she must leave, must be about her business, certainly must not bother him anymore. She left. And wandered the halls. She had thought to be quit of the Song-house in a matter of months, the least important person ever to have been there, and suddenly she was supposed to choose the leader of the place. What kind of crazy system is this? she thought. And what the hell kind of rotten luck for me, of all people!
But it was not rotten luck, and as she wandered through the stone corridors, all of them chilly with the winter outside, she realized that no one ever came to the High Room unbidden except maintenance people, and all the maintenance people were Deafs or Blinds, those who had not made it into the highest reaches of the singing folk. They could not sing, they could not teach-and so it was left to one of them to stumble across the body and, being impartial, not a member of the eligible group, choose fairly the person who obviously should be the Songmaster in the High Room.
Who?
She went to the Common Rooms and saw the teachers moving among the classes and knew that she could not suddenly elevate a teacher above his rank; it was tempting to be whimsical, to take vengeance on the Songhouse by naming an incompetent to head it, but it would be cruel to the incompetent so called, and she couldn't destroy someone that way. She knew enough to know that it was just as cruel to lift someone above where he ought to be as it was to force him to stay below his true station. I won't cause misery.
But the Songmasters, the logical group to choose from- she knew none of them, except by reputation. Onn, a gifted teacher and singer, but always assigned as a consultant to everybody because he couldn't live with the necessity of keeping a fixed schedule, meeting with obnoxious people, and making, of all things, decisions. Much better to give advice. No, Onn was not the one anyone would expect, though he was by far the nicest. And Chuffyun was too old, far too old. He would not be long behind Nniv.
In fact, just as Hrrai had told her, the choice was obvious. But not one she enjoyed, not at all Esste, who was cold to everyone except for the little boy she was promoting as a possibility for Mikal's Songbird. Esste, who had reached down into the Common Rooms and lowered herself to be a teacher when she had been administrator of half the Songhouse, all for the sake of a little boy. No one made such great sacrifices for me, Kya-Kya thought bitterly. But Esste was a great singer, one who could light fires in every heart in the Songhouse-or quench those fires, if she wanted to. And Esste was above the petty jealousies and competitions that were endemic to the Songhouse. Esste was above such things in her attitude- and now she would be above them in station, too.
Kya-Kya stopped a master (who was quite surprised at having a Deaf interrupt her) and asked where she might find Esste.
With Ansset, With the boy.
And where is he?
In his stall.
Stall. The boy had been promoted. He couldn't be more than six yet, and he was already in Stalls and Chambers. It turned Kya-Kya's mouth down, her stomach dull. But in a moment she brightened again. The boy had been advanced by Esste, that's all. He would be in the Song-house all his life, except for a few years as a performer. While she would be free, could see all of Tew-more, could see other planets, could go, perhaps, to Earth itself where Mikal ruled the universe in indescribable glory!
A few questions. A few directions. She found Ansset's stall, identical to all the others except for a number on the door. Inside she could hear singing. It was conversation- she knew when it was songtalk. Esste was inside, then. Kya-Kya knocked.
Who? came the answer-from the boy, not from the Songmaster.
Kya-Kya. With a message for Songmaster Esste.
The door opened. The boy, who was far smaller than Kya-Kya, let her in. Esste sat on the stool by the window. The room was bleak-bare wooden walls on three sides, a cot, a stool, a table, and the stone wall framing the single window that opened onto the courtyard. Every stall was interchangeable with any other. But Kya-Kya would once have given her soul to have a stall and all that it implied. The boy was six.
Your message?
Esste was as cold as ever; her robe swirled around her feet as she sat absolutely erect on the stool.
Esste, I have come from the High Room.
He wants me?
He is dead. Esste's face betrayed nothing. She had Control. He is dead, Kya-Kya said again. And I hope you will take care of the funeral arrangements.
Esste sat in silence for a moment before she answered.
You found the body?
Yes.
You have done me no kindness, Esste said, and she rose and left the room.
What now? Kya-Kya wondered, as she stood near the door of Ansset's stall. She had not thought beyond informing Esste. She had expected some reaction; expected at least to be told what to do. Instead she stood here in the stall with the boy who was the opposite of her, the epitome of success where she had met nothing but failure.
He looked at her inquiringly. What does this mean?
It means, said Kya-Kya, that Esste is Songmaster in the High Room,
The boy showed no sign of response. Control, thought Kya-Kya. That damnable Control
Doesn't it mean anything to you?" she demanded.
What should it mean? Ansset asked, and his voice was a web of innocence.
It should mean a little gloating, at least, boy, Kya-Kya answered, with the contempt the hopelessly inferior can freely use when the superior are helpless. Esste's been pampering you every step of the way. Leading you up without having to go through the pain everyone goes through. And now she has all the power it takes. You'll be a Songbird, little boy. You'll sing for the greatest people in the galaxy. And then you'll come home, and your Esste will see to it you never have to bother with being a friend or a tutor, you'll just step right into teaching, or being a master, or perhaps-why not?-a high master right from the start, and before you're twenty you'll be a Songmaster. So why don't you forget your Control and let it show?. This is the best thing that's ever happened to you! Her voice was bitter and angry, with no hint of music In it, not even the dark music of rage.
Ansset regarded her placidly, then opened his mouth, not to speak but to sing. At first she decided to leave immediately; soon she was incapable of deciding anything.
Kya-Kya had heard many singers before, but no one had sung to her like this. There were words, but she did not hear words. Instead she heard kindness, and understanding, and encouragement. In Ansset's song she was not a failure. She was, in fact, a wise woman who had done- a great favor for the Songhouse, who had earned the love of all future generations. She felt proud. She felt that the Song-house would send her out, not in shame, but as an emissary to the worlds outside. I will tell them of the music, she thought, and because of me the Songhouse will be held in even greater esteem by everyone who knows of it. For I am as much a product of the Songhouse as any singer or Songbird. She was bursting with joy, with pride. She had not been so happy in years. In her life. She embraced the boy and wept for several minutes.
If this is what Ansset can do, he is worth all the praise he has been given, she thought. Why, the boy is full of love, even for me. Even for me. And she looked up into his eyes and saw-
Nothing.
He regarded her as placidly as he had before. Control. He had let out the song, and that was all. There was nothing human about him when he wasn't singing. He knew what she wanted to hear, he had given it to her, and that was all he needed to do.