By proving to us that you do indeed deserve a Songbird. You know what that will do, I'm certain. Everyone knows that the Songhouse does not bend to the powerful where Songbirds are concerned. And yet-we will give you one. I can hear them now: 'Even the Songhouse sells out to Mikal.' Nniv's voice was a raucous and perfectly accurate imitation of the speech of the common man, though of course there was no such creature in the galaxy. Mikal laughed.

You think it's funny? Esste asked, and her voice pierced Mikal deeply and made him wince.

No, he answered.

Nniv sang soothingly, and calmed both Esste and Mikal But, Mikal, you know also that we set no date for delivery. We must find the right Songbird for you, and if we don't find one before you die, there can be no complaint.

Mikal nodded. But hurry. Hurry, if you can.

Esste sang, her voice ringing with confidence, We never hurry. We never hurry. We never hurry. The song was Mikal's dismissal. He left, and found his own way out, guided by the fact that all doors but the right ones were locked against him.

I don't understand, said Nniv to Esste after Mikal had gone.

I do, Esste said.

Nniv whispered his surprise in a steeply rising hiss that echoed from the stone walls and blended with the breeze.

He's a man of great personal force and power, she told him. But he has not been corrupted. He believes he can use his power for good. He longs to do it.

An altruist? Nniv found it difficult to believe.

An altruist. And this, said Esste, is his song. She sang, then, occasionally using words, but more often shaping meaningless syllables with her voice, or singing strange vowels, or even using silence and wind and the shape of her lips to express her understanding of Mikal.

At last her song ended, and Nniv's own voice was heavy with emotion as he sang his reaction. That, too, ended, and Nniv said, If he truly is what you sing him to be, then I love him.