Onn had made up his mind before he realized it. Suddenly he found himself protesting a decision he had not known that he had made. She's too inexperienced, he told himself, though in fact there was no one but him who really had experience in doing some of the work of the High Room. She's too quiet, too shy to work her will in the Songhouse, he insisted, but knew that as she guided the children with love, not power, she would be able to guide the Songhouse as well.
And finally all his objections came down to the last one: pity. She loved teaching the little children, and in the High Room she would only have time for one or two children, and those, would have to be in Stalls and Chambers. She would not be happy to give up a work she so enjoyed doing to accept a task that she herself and most others would think was beyond her.
Onn was certain, however. Watching her he knew that she should take Esste's place. And if it was hard for her, and she had to give up something to do it-well, the Songhouse exacted high prices from its children, and she would do her duty willingly, as all the people of the Songhouse would.
He arose, and she ended the song to ask him what he wanted.
Rruk, he said, Esste has died.
He was pleased that it did not occur to her that she was being called to replace Esste. Instead her dismay was heartfelt, and nothing but mourning for her beloved Song-master Esste. She sang her grief, and the children tentatively joined in. Her song had begun with all the technique she had, but as the children tried to join her, she simplified almost by habit, put her music within their reach, and together they sang touchingly of love that had to end with death. It moved Onn greatly. She was a generous woman. He had chosen well.
When her song ended, he said the words that would cause her, he knew, much misery.
Rruk, I found her body, and I ask you to make the funeral arrangements.
She understood instantly, and her Control held, though she said softly, Songmaster Onn, the chance that led you to find her body was cruel, but the chance that brought you to me was madness.
Nevertheless, it is your task.
Then I will do it. But I think I will not be the only one to mourn the fact that for the first time, our custom has failed to choose the one best-suited for that duty.
They were singing to each other, their voices controlled but beautiful with emotions that the children were hardly experienced enough to comprehend.
Our custom has not failed, Onn said, and you will be sure of that in time.
She left her class then, and the students scurried away to tell everyone the news, and all over the Songhouse songs of mourning for Esste began, along with whispers of amazement that Onn was not the successor, that he in fact had for the first time in history chosen a Songmaster for the High Room who was not even a master, who was merely a teacher of Breezes.
Onn and Rruk carefully tended to Esste's body. Naked, the old woman looked incredibly frail, nothing like the image of power she had always presented. But then, she had lived among those to whom the body meant nothing and the voice was the key to what a person was, and by that standard no one more powerful had been known in the Songhouse in many lifetimes. Onn and Rruk sang and talked as they worked, Rruk asking many questions and Onn trying to teach her in a few hours what had taken him many years to learn.
Finally, in frustration, she said, I cannot learn it.
And he answered, I will be here and help you all you need.
She agreed, and so, instead of immediately trying to assert her authority as Songmaster, she began merely as a mouthpiece for Onn's decisions. Such a thing could not be kept hidden, and there were those who thought Onn might have done better to choose them, but that he had chosen Rruk because she was so weak he could rule the Songhouse through her.
Gradually, however, she began to perform her duties alone, and slowly the people of the Songhouse came to realize that she had made them all, somehow, happier; that while the music had not noticeably improved or got worse, the songs had all become somehow happier. She treated all the children with as much respect as due any adult; she treated all the adults with as much patience and love as due any child. And it worked. And when Onn died not too many years afterward, there was no doubt that he had chosen correctly-in fact, there were many who said that chance had been kind to the Songhouse, by making Rruk and not Onn Songmaster in the High Room. For the Songhouse had not lost his expertise, and had gained Rruk's understanding as well.
This is why Rruk was the Songmaster in the High Room when Ansset came home.
3
The doorkeeper did not recognize him, of course. It had been too many years, and though the doorkeeper had been a Groan when Ansset was in Stalls and Chambers, there was no way to connect that aging face and the shock of white hair with the beautiful blond child whose songs had been so pure and high.
But the Songhouse was not unkind, and it was obvious that the old man at the door was not overburdened with wealth-his clothing was simple and he carried no purse and wore no ornaments. He refused to state his business, only that he wanted to see the Songmaster in the High Room, which was out of the question, of course. But as long as he wanted to wait in the door-room, he was welcome to wait, and when the doorkeeper saw that he had brought no food, she led him to the kitchens and let him eat with a group of students from Stalls and Chambers.
He did not take any unfair advantage of the kindness, either. When the meal was over, the old man was led back to the door-room, and there he stayed until the next meal was served.
The old man did not speak to any of the children. He just ate slowly and carefully, and watched his own dish. The children began to feel at ease around him and talk and sing. He never joined in or showed any reaction.
Having the old man in their kitchen actually became a point of pride with them. After all, they had been in the Songhouse for at least five or six years, and they knew all the adults, particularly the old ones; the only new ones were usually singers and Songbirds coming home when they turned fifteen and seekers coming back with new ones for the Common Room. To have someone old be new was unheard of.
And he was a mystery among the children. Stories were told about him, how he had committed terrible crimes in some far-off world and was coming to the Songhouse to hide; how he was the father of a famous singer and he was coming to spy on his child; how he was a deaf mute who felt their songs through the vibrations on the table (which had several children putting cotton in their ears and feeling the tables during meals, trying to sense something); how he was a Songbird who had failed and was now trying to gain a place in the Songhouse. Some of the stories were rather close to the mark in detail. Some were so magic and fantastical that they could not be believed even by the most credulous of the children, though of course they were repeated all the same. Yet in all the telling and retelling of the stories of the old man in the Rainbow Kitchen, not one of the stories was ever told to an adult.
So it was only by chance that Rruk ever learned the old man was there. He had taken to helping clean up after the meal. The Rainbow cook was a Blind, helped by two young Deafs who circulated from kitchen to kitchen. The Deafs were late for cleanup one day, and so the old man got up and began to wash the dishes. The cook was an observant woman, and she realized that while the hands of the old man were strong, they had never done any kind of rough work at all-they were soft on the palms as a baby's hand. But the old man was careful and the dishes got clean, and pretty soon the two young Deafs discovered that if they were later and later for cleanup in the Rainbow Kitchen, they wouldn't have to clean up at all.