Songmaster Page 0,1

believe there is anything he cannot get, anyone he cannot rule, anywhere he cannot fill with his presence.

No man can travel through space, Nniv answered gently, and not know there are places he cannot fill.

She bowed. What do I tell him?

Tell him that I will see him.

She was startled. She was confused. She abandoned words, and sang her confusion. The song was meek and uncontrolled, for she would never be a master, not even a teacher, but wordlessly she asked Nniv why he would

even listen to such a man, why he would risk having the rest of mankind think, The Songhouse treats all men alike, judging only on merit, not on power-except for Mikal.

I will not be corrupted, Nniv sang gently.

Send him away, she pleaded.

Bring him to me.

She broke Control and wept, then, and declared she could not do such a thing.

Nniv sighed. Then send me Esste. Send me Esste, and be relieved of duty until Mikal leaves.

Mikal still stood in the gateroom an hour later, when the door opened again. This time it was not the gatekeeper. It was another woman, more mature, with darkness under her eyes and power in her bearing. Mikal? she asked.

Are you the Songmaster? Mikal asked.

Not I, she said, and for a moment Mikal felt acutely embarrassed at having thought so. But why should I be embarrassed, he wondered, and shook off the feelings. The Songhouse weaves spells, said the common people on Tew, and it made Mikal uneasy. The woman led the way out of the room, humming. She said nothing, but her melody told Mikal he should follow, and so he pursued the thread of music through the cold stone halls. Doors opened here and there; windows let in the only light (and it was a dismal light of a gray winter sky); in all the wandering through the Songhouse they met no other person, heard no other voice.

At last, after many stairs, they reached a high room. The High Room, in fact, though no one mentioned it. Seated at one end of the room on a stone bench unsheltered from the cold breeze through the open shutters was Nniv. He was old, his face more sag than features, and Mikal was startled. Ancient. It reminded Mikal of mortality, which at the age of forty he was just beginning to be aware of. He had sixty years yet, but he was no longer young and knew that time was against him.

Nniv? Mikal asked.

Nniv nodded, and his voice rumbled a low mmmmm. Mikal turned to the woman who had led him. She was still humming. Leave us, Mikal said.

The woman stayed where she was, looking at him as if without comprehension. Mikal grew angry, but he said nothing because suddenly her melody counseled silence, insisted on silence, and instead Mikal turned to Nniv. Make her stop humming, he said. I refuse to be manipulated.

Then, Nniv said (and his song seemed to shout with laughter, though his voice remained soft), then you refuse to live.

Are you threatening me?

Nniv smiled. Oh, no, Mikal. I merely observe that all living things are manipulated. As long as there is a will, it is bent and twisted constantly. Only the dead are allowed the luxury of freedom, and then only because they want nothing, and therefore can't be thwarted.

Mikal's eyes grew cold then, and he spoke in measured voice, which sounded dissonant and awkward after the music of Nniv's speech. I could have come here in power, Songmaster Nniv. I could have landed huge armies and weapons that would hold the Songhouse itself for ransom to work my will. If I intended to coerce you or frighten . you or abuse you in any way, I would not have come alone, open to assassins, to ask for what I want. I have come to you with respect, and I will be treated with respect.

Nniv's only answer was to glance at the woman and say, Esste. She fell silent. Her humming had been so pervasive that the walls fairly rang with the sudden quiet.

Nniv waited.

I want a Songbird, Mikal said.

Nniv said nothing.

Songmaster Nniv, I conquered a planet called Rain, and on that planet was a man of great wealth, and he had a Songbird. He invited me to hear the child sing.

And at the memory, Mikal could not contain himself. He wept.
* * *

His weeping took Esste and Nniv by surprise. This was not Mikal the Terrible. Could not be. For Songbirds, while they impressed everyone, could only be