Do you have to? Can't you sing again? It was as if the men around the table had forgotten that Ansset was their prisoner. And he, in turn, refused them as if he were free to choose. I can't do it twice. I can never do it twice. Not for them, anyway. And for Mikal, all songs were different, and every one was new.

They lifted him off the table then, and Master's strong arms carried him back to his room. Ansset lay on the bed after the door locked shut, his Control easing, letting his body tremble. The last song he had sung before this had been for Mikal. A light and happy song, and Mikal had smiled the soft, melancholy smile that only touched his face when he was alone with his Songbird. And Ansset had touched Mikal's hand, and Mikal had touched Ansset's face, and then Ansset had left to walk along the river.

Ansset drifted off to sleep thinking of the songs in Mikal's gray eyes, humming of the firm hands that ruled an empire and yet could still stroke the forehead of a beautiful child and weep at a sorrowful song. Ah, sang Ansset in his mind, ah, the weeping of Mikal's sorrowful hands.

8

Ansset awoke walking down a street.

Out of the way, ya chark! shouted a harsh accent behind him, and Ansset dodged to the left as a cart zipped passed his right arm. Sausages, shouted a sign on the case behind the driver.

Then Ansset was seized by a terrible vertigo as he realized that he was not in the cell of his captivity, that he was fully dressed, though not in the clothing of the Songhouse. He was alive and free of his captors and the quick joy that realization brought was immediately soured by a rush of the old guilt, and the conflicting emotions and the suddenness of his liberation were too much for him, and for a moment too long he forgot to breathe, and the darkening ground slid sideways, tipped up, hit him-- Hey, boy, are you all right? Did the chark slam you, boy? I got the number of the cart. We can get him! He's comin' around and to. Ansset opened his eyes. Where is this place? he asked softly.

Why, this is Northet, they said.

How far is the palace? Ansset asked, vaguely remembering that he had heard of Northet as a suburb of Hisper.

The palace? What palace?

Mikal's palace-I must go to Mikal- Ansset tried to get up, but his head spun and he staggered. Hands held him up.

The kit's kinky, that's what. Mikal's palace. It's only sixty kilometer, boy, should I have 'em hold supper for you? The joke brought a burst of laughter, but Ansset had regained Control and he pulled away from the hands holding him and stood alone. Whatever drug had kept him unconscious was now nearly worked out of his system. Find me a policeman, Ansset said. Mikal will want to see me immediately.

Some still laughed, but others looked carefully at Ansset, perhaps noticing that he spoke without an Eastamerican accent, that his bearing was not that of a streetchild. Who are you, boy? one asked.

I'm Ansset, Mikal's Songbird.

They looked, realized that the face was the one pictured in the papers; half of them ran off to find authorities who could handle the situation, while the other half stayed to look at his face, to realize how beautiful his eyes were, to hold the moment so they could tell about it to their children and grandchildren. I saw Ansset himself, Mikal's Songbird, they would say, and when their children asked , What was Mikal's Songbird? they would answer, ah, he was beautiful, he was the most valuable of all the treasures of Mikal the Terrible, the sweetest face you ever saw, and songs that could bring rain out of the sky or a flower from the deep of the snow.

They reached out, and he touched their hands, and smiled at them, and wondered how they wanted him to act-embarrassed at their awe, or accustomed to it? He read the songs in their voices as they murmured, Songbird, and Thank you, and Lovely. And decided that they wanted him to be poised, to be beautiful and gracious and distant so their worship would be uninterrupted. Thank you, Ansset said, thank you. You've all helped me. Thank you.

The policemen came, apologizing effusively for how dirty their flesket was, that it was the only one in the station, and please take a seat. They did not take him to the station; rather they took him to a pad where a flit from the palace waited. The Chamberlain got out. Yes, it's him, he said to the police, and then reached for Ansset's hand. Are you all right? he asked.

I think so, Ansset said, suddenly aware that something might be wrong with him. He was inside the flit; the doors closed; the ground seemed to push up on him and he was airborne, heading for the palace. For Mikal.

9

The child is becoming impatient, said the Captain, I really don't give a damn, said the Chamberlain. And Mikal is also impatient. The Chamberlain said nothing, Just stared back at the Captain.

All I'm saying, Chamberlain, is that we have to hurry. The Chamberlain sighed. I know. But the child's a monster. I was married once, you know.

The Captain hadn't known, but did not care. He shrugged.

I had a boy. When he was eleven he was mischievous, a little devil, but so transparent you could see through him no matter how he tried to deceive. Even when he tried to conceal his feelings, you could tell exactly what he was trying to conceal. But this boy.

They train them to school their emotions in the Song-house, the Captain said.

Yes, the Songhouse. I marvel at their teaching. The child can hide any emotion he wants to. Even his impatience-he chooses to show it, and then shows nothing else.

But you have hypnotized him.

Only with the aid of drugs. And when I start mucking around in his mind, Captain, what do I find?

Walls.

Walls. Someone has built blocks in his mind that I can't get through. The Captain smiled. And you insisted on conducting the interrogation yourself.

The Chamberlain glared. To be frank, Captain, I didn't trust your men. It was your men who were supposed to be guarding him that day.

It was the Captain's turn to get angry. And you know who ordered them to keep completely out of sight! They watched the whole thing through ops and couldn't get there before they had taken him off underwater. The whole search was just a second too late all the way!

That's the problem, the Chamberlain said. A second too late.

You've failed at the interrogation! Mikal wants his Songbird back! I will interrogate the boy!

The Chamberlain glowered a moment, then turned away, All right. And much as it pains me to say so, I honestly hope you succeed.

The Captain found Ansset sitting on the edge of a couch that flowed aimlessly around him. The boy looked up at him without interest.

Again, the Captain said.

I know, Ansset said. The Captain had brought a tray of syringes and slaps. As he prepared the first slap, he talked to Ansset. Trying, he supposed, to put the boy at ease, though whether the boy was nervous or not was impossible to tell.

You know that Mikal wants to see you.

And I want to see him, Ansset said.

But you were held for five months by someone who was probably not a friend of the emperor.

I've told you everything I know.

I know it. We have recordings, I think we know everything about what you did in the evenings. Every word the crew of the boat spoke to you. You're a marvelous mimic. Our experts are studying the accent of the crew right now. Your memory of the faces has our artists busy reconstructing them. Everything you've told us has been in perfect detail. You're an ideal witness.

Ansset showed no emotion, not even a sigh. Yet we go through this again.

The trouble is, Ansset, what went on during the days. You have blocks-

The Chamberlain's told me. I knew it already.