I did it, Mikal told himself, staring into the flames. I did it.
And yet not well enough. Because after all of this a boy had to stand there tonight with blood on his hands, looking at the corpses of the men he had killed. I started all this so that no boy would ever have to do that again.
Mikal felt a pain inside himself that he could not bear. He put his hand into the fire until the pain of his body forced the pain of his heart to recede. Then he wrapped the hand, salved it, and wondered why inward wounds could not be so easily healed.
18
Songbird, Riktors Ashen said, it seems that someone has taught you new songs.
Ansset stood among the guards, who all held lasers trained on him. Control kept him from showing any emotion at all, though he longed to cry out with the agony that tore at him inside. My walls are deep, but can they hold this? he wondered, and inside his head he heard, faintly, a voice singing to him. It was Esste's voice, and she sang the love song, and that was what allowed him to contain the guilt and the grief and the fear and keep Control.
You must have studied under a master, Riktors said.
I never, Ansset started, and then realized that he could not keep on speaking, not and keep Control.
Don't torture the boy, Captain, said Mikal from where he sat in a corner of the council room.
The Chamberlain launched into his pro forma resignation. I should have examined the boy's muscle structure and realized what new skills he had been given. I submit my resignation. I beg you to take my life.
The Chamberlain must be even more worried than usual, Ansset realized, for he had prostrated himself in front of the emperor.
Shut up and get up, Mikal said. The Chamberlain arose with his face gray. Mikal had not followed the ritual. The Chamberlain's life was still on the line.
Apparently, Mikal said, we've broken through some of the barriers laid in my Songbird's mind. Let's see how many.
Ansset stood watching as Riktors took a packet off the table and spread pictures for Ansset to look at. Ansset looked at the first one and felt sick. He did not know why they were making him look until he saw the third one and gasped, despite Control.
You know this one, Riktors said.
Ansset nodded dumbly.
Point to the ones you know.
So Ansset pointed to nearly half of them, and Riktors checked them against a list he held in his hands, and when Ansset was through and turned away (slowly, slowly, because the guards with the lasers were nervous), Riktors smiled grimly at Mikal.
He picked every single one kidnapped and murdered after he himself was kidnapped. There was a connection after all.
I killed them, Ansset said, and his voice was not calm. It shook as no one in the palace had ever heard it shake before. Mikal looked at him, but said-nothing, gave no sign of sympathy. They had me practice on them, Ansset finished.
Who had you practice? Riktors demanded.
They! The voices-from the box. Ansset struggled to hold onto the memory that had been hidden from him by the block. Now he knew why the block had been so strong-he could not have borne knowing what was hidden in his mind. But now it was in the open, and he had to bear it, at least long enough to tell. He had to tell, though he longed to let the block slide back to hide these memories forever.
What box? Riktors would not let up.
The box. A wooden box. Maybe a receiver, maybe a recording. I don't know.
Did you know the voice?
Voices. Never the same. Not even for the same sentence. The voices changed for every word. I could never find any songs in them.
Ansset kept seeing the faces of the bound men he was told to maim and then kill. He remembered that though he cried out against it, he could not resist, could not stop himself.
How did they force you to do it? Riktors asked, and though his voice was soft, the questions were insistent, had to be answered.
I don't know. I don't know. There were words, and then I had to.
What words?
I don't know! I never knew! And Ansset began to cry.
Mikal spoke softly. Who taught you to kill that way?
A man. I never knew his name. On the last day he was tied where the others had been. The voices made me kill him. Ansset struggled with the words, the struggle made harder by the realization that this time, when he had killed his teacher, he had not had to be forced. He had killed because he hated the man. I murdered him.
Nonsense, the Chamberlain said, trying to sound sympathetic. You were a tool.
I told you to shut up, Mikal said curtly. Can you remember anything else, my Son?
Ansset nodded, took a breath, knowing that though he had lost the illusion of Control, still it was the walls of Control that kept him from screaming, from charging a guard and dying in the welcome flame of a laser. I killed Master, and all of the crew that was there. Some were missing. The ones I recognized from the pictures from Eire. And Husk. But I killed all the rest, they were all there in the room with the table, and all alone I killed them. They fought me as hard as they could, all except Master, who just stood there like he couldn't believe that I could be doing what he saw me do. Maybe they never knew what it was I was learning to do on deck.
And then?
And then when they were all dead I heard footsteps above me on the deck.
Who?
I don't know. The box told me to lie down on my stomach, and I did, and the box told me to close my eyes, and I did, and I couldn't open them. Then footsteps down the stairs and a slap on my arm and I woke up walking down a street.
Everyone was silent then, for a few moments. It was the Chamberlain who finally spoke first. My Lord, it must have been the Songbird's great love for you that broke through the barriers despite the fact that the Captain was already dead--
Chamberlain! Mikal interrupted. Your life is over if you speak again before I address you." He turned to Riktors Ashen. Captain, I want to know how those Kinshasans got past your guard.
Riktors Ashen made no attempt to excuse himself. The guards at the door were my men, and they gave them a routine check, without any effort to investigate the possibility of unusual weapons in those unusual headdresses. They've been replaced with more careful men, and the ones who let them by are in prison, waiting for your pleasure.
My pleasure, said Mikal, will be a long time coming.
Ansset was regaining Control. He listened to the songs in Riktors Ashen's voice and marveled at the man's confidence. It was as if none of this could touch Riktors Ashen. He knew he was not at fault, knew that he would not be punished, knew that all would turn out well. His confidence was infectious, and Ansset felt just a little better.
Mikal gave clear orders to his Captain. There will be a rigorous investigation of Kinshasa. Find any and every link between the Kinshasan assassination attempt and the manipulation of Ansset. Every member of the conspiracy is to be treated as a traitor. All the rest of the Kinshasans are to be deported to a world with an unpleasant climate, and every building in Kinshasa is to be destroyed and removed and every field and orchard and animal is to be stripped. I want every bit of it on holo, to be distributed throughout the empire.
Riktors bowed his head.
Then Mikal turned to the Chamberlain, who looked petrified with fear, though he still clung to his dignity.
Chamberlain, what would you recommend that I do with my Songbird?
The Chamberlain was back to being careful. My Lord, it is not a matter to which I have given thought. The disposition of your Songbird is not a matter on which I feel it proper to advise you.
Very carefully said, my dear Chamberlain.
Ansset struggled to keep Control as he listened to their discussion of what should be done with him. Mikal raised his hand in the gesture that, by ritual, spared the Chamberlain's life. The Chamberlain's relief was visible, and at another time Ansset would have laughed; but now there was no laughter in him, and he knew that his own relief would not come so easily as it had come
to the Chamberlain.
My Lord, Ansset said, when the conversation paused. I beg you to put me to death.
Dammit, Ansset, I'm sick of rituals, Mikal said.
This is no ritual, Ansset said, his voice tired and husky from misuse. And this is no song, Father Mikal. I'm a danger to you.
I noticed, Mikal said dryly. Then he turned back to the Chamberlain, Have Ansset's possessions put together and ready for travel.
I have no possessions, Ansset said.
Mikal looked at him in surprise.
I've never owned anything, Ansset said.
Mikal shrugged, spoke again to the Chamberlain. Inform the Songhouse that Ansset is returning. Tell them that he has performed beautifully, and I have marred him by bringing him to my court. Tell them that they will be paid four times what we agreed to before, and that it doesn't begin to compensate them for the beauty of their gift to me or to the damage that I did to it. See to it See to it all.
Then Mikal turned to go. Ansset could not bear to see Mikal leave like that, turning his back and walking out without so much as a farewell. Father Mikal, Ansset called out. Or rather, he meant to call out. But the words came out softly. They were a song, and Ansset realized that he had sung the first notes of the love song. It was all the good-bye he'd be able to give.
Mikal left without giving any sign that he heard.
19
They told me you're not a prisoner, the guard said. But I'm supposed to watch you, me and the others, and not let you do anything dangerous or try to get away. Sounds like a prisoner to me, but I guess they mean I'm supposed to be nice about it.
Thanks, Ansset said, managing a smile. Does that mean I can go where I want?
Depends on where you want.
The garden, Ansset said, and the guard nodded, and he and his companions followed Ansset out of the palace and across the broad lawns to the banks of the Susquehanna. All the way there his Control returned. He remembered the words of his first teacher. When you want to weep, let the tears come through your throat. Let pain come from the pressure in your thighs. Let sorrow rise and resonate through your head. Everything was a song and, as a song, could be controlled by the singer.
Walking by the Susquehanna as the lawns turned cold in the afternoon shade, Ansset sang his grief. He sang softly, but the guards heard his song, and could not help but weep for him, too.
He stopped at a place where the water looked cold and clear, and began to strip off his tunic, preparing to swim. A guard reached out a hand and stopped him. Ansset noticed the laser pointed at his foot. I can't let you do that, Mikal gave orders you were not to be allowed to take your own life.
I only want to swim, Ansset answered, his voice heady with trustworthiness.
I'd be killed if any harm came to you, the guard said.
I give you my oath that I will only swim. I'm a good swimmer. And I won't try to get away.
The guards considered among themselves, and the confidence in Ansset's voice won. out, Don't go too far, the leader told him.
Ansset took off his underwear and dove into the water. It was icy cold, with the chill of autumn on it, and it stung at first. He swam in broad strokes upstream, knowing that to the guards on the bank he would already seem like only a speck on the surface of the water. Then he dove and swam under the water, holding his breath as only a singer or a pearldiver can, and swam across the current toward the near shore, where the guards were waiting. He could hear, though muffled by the water, the cries of the guards. He surfaced, laughing. God, he could laugh again.
Two of the guards had already thrown off their boots and were up to their waists in water, preparing to try to catch Ansset's body as it swept by. But Ansset kept laughing at them, and they turned at him angrily.
Why did you worry? Ansset said. I gave my word.
Then the guards relaxed, and Ansset didn't play any more games with them, just swam and floated and rested on the bank. The chill autumn air was like the perpetual chill of the Songhouse, and though he was cold, he was, not comfortable, but comforted.
And from time to time he swam underwater for a while, listening to the different sound the guards' quarreling and laughing made when Ansset was distanced from them by the water. They played at polys, and the leader was losing heavily, though he was a good sport about it. And sometimes, in a lull in their game, Ansset could hear the cry of a bird in the distance, made sharper and yet more ambiguous by the roar of the current in his ears.
It was like the muffling of the birdcalls when Ansset had been in his cell on the flatboat. The birds had been Ansset's only sign that there was a world outside his prison, that even though he was caught up for a time in madness, something still lived that was untouched by it
And then Ansset made a connection in his mind and realized he had been terribly, terribly wrong. He had been wrong and Mikal had to know about it immediately, had to know about it before something terrible happened, something worse than anything that had gone before- Mikal's death.
Ansset swam quickly to shore, splashed out of the water, and without any attempt to dry off put on his underwear and his tunic and started off toward the palace. The guards called out, broke up the game, and chased after him. Let them chase, Ansset thought.
Stop! cried the guards, but Ansset did not stop. He was only walking. Let them run and catch up.
Where are you going! demanded the first one to reach him. The guard caught at his shoulder, tried to stop him, but Ansset pulled easily away and sped up.
To the palace, Ansset said. I have to get to the palace!
The guards were gathered around him now, and some stepped in front of him to try to head him off.
You were told I could go where I wanted.
With limits, the leader reminded him.
Am I allowed to go to the palace?
A moment's pause. Of course.
I'm going to the palace,
So they followed him, some of them with lasers drawn, as he entered the palace and began to lead them through the labyrinth. The doors had not been changed-he could open any that he had ever been able to open. And as the guards accompanied him through the labyrinth of the palace, they grew more and more confused. Where are we going?
Don't you know? Ansset asked innocently.
I didn't know this corridor existed, how could I know where it leads!
And some of them speculated on whether they would ever be able to find their way out alone. Ansset did not smile, but he wanted to. They were passing close to the kitchens, the mess hall, the guard rooms, the places in the palace most familiar to them. But Ansset was more familiar, and left them utterly confused.
There was no confusion, however, when they emerged in the security rooms just outside Mikal's private room. The leader of the guards instantly recognized it, and in fury planted himself in front of Ansset, his laser drawn. The one place you can't go is here, he said. Now move, the other way!
I'm here to see Mikal. I have to see Mikal! Ansset raised his voice so it could be heard in the room, in the corridor outside, in any other security room. And sure enough one of the doorservants came to them and asked, in his quiet, unobtrusive way, if he could be of service.
No, said the guard.
"I have to see Mikal! Ansset cried, his voice a song of anguish, a plea for pity. Ansset's pleas were irresistible. But the servant had no intention of resisting. He merely looked puzzled and asked the guards, Didn't you bring him here? Mikal is looking for him.
Looking? the guard asked.
Mikal wants him in his room immediately. And not under guard.
The leader of the guards lowered his laser. So did the others.
That's right, the doorservant said. Come this way, Songbird.
Ansset nodded to the guard, who shrugged and looked away in embarrassment. Then, as the doorservant had suggested, Ansset came that way.
20
Ansset fit right into the madness, his hair still wet, his tunic clinging to his damp body. But he wasn
't prepared for Mikal and the Chamberlain and Riktors Ashen, the only others in the room. Mikal was oozing joviality. He greeted Ansset with a handshake, something he had never done before. And he sounded incredibly cheerful as he said, Ansset, my Son, it's fine now. We were so foolish to think we needed to send you away. The Captain was the only one in the plot close enough to have given you the signal. When he died, I immediately became safe. In fact, as you proved today, my boy, you're the best bodyguard I could possibly have! Mikal laughed, and the Chamberlain and Riktors Ashen joined in as if they hadn't a care in the world, as if they couldn't possibly be more delighted with the turn of events. But it was all unbelievable. Ansset knew Mikal's voice too well. Warnings laced through everything he said and did. Something was wrong.
Well, something was wrong, and Ansset immediately told Mikal what he had realized. Mikal, when I was imprisoned on the flatboat I could hear birds outside. Birds, and that's all. Nothing else. But when we went down in that boat on the Delaware we heard children laughing on the road and a flesket pass by on the river! I was never kept there! It was a fraud, and the Captain died for it! But Mikal only shook his head and laughed. The laugh was maddening. Ansset wanted to leap at him, warn him that whoever had made this plot was more clever than they had thought, was still at large-
But the Chamberlain came to him with a bottle of wine in his hand, laughing just as Mikal was, with songs of treachery in his voice. Never mind that kind of thing, the Chamberlain said. It's a time for celebration. You saved Mikal's life, my boy! I brought some wine. Ansset, why don't you pour it?
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