King Music listened with growing delight as Song presented his Acceptance Song in the music room.
“That’s amazing,” he said with pride in his eyes. “So much better than what we were working on yesterday.”
“I had some inspiration last night,” Song said.
“Now - I believe all of you have got it?” the king addressed the assembled musicians. They nodded. “Let’s see how you can arrange it. Will you be singing, Song?”
He thought for a while. “I believe that I will,” he said.
“Your throat’s not bothering you anymore?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” He’d forgotten about that excuse, but he was fairly certain that no one would catch the slight minor difference in his voice. It was so hard to imitate a voice flawlessly.
“That’s great. I’ll leave all of you to it then,” King Music said as he got up. “I have other things to work on for this evening.”
Leaving the room, he went up to his son’s quarters, where Muse was being tested by a barrage of curious doctors and physicians.
“How are you feeling, Muse?”
“Battered,” Muse answered from under a mass of moving instruments. “But much better, actually.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Father -”
“Yes?”
“Do you ever have strange dreams?”
Music looked at him curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out what I’ve been experiencing the last ten years. It felt like a waking dream. Some of it, I’ve talked to Mother and she said that they were real conversations I had with her. Some she says that it never happened. I don’t know if I dreamt them up. And then - some of the things I remember, she said that I had told her, but she thought I was babbling something I had dreamt up. I don’t know if there’s any significance in them or if I was merely stuck in that fog.”
“What kind of dreams?” Music asked cautiously. “There have been occurrences in history where the Song of the World communicated to people through their dreams. Most of them were normal soothsayers or hedge magicians, though.”
“I don’t know. Dreams of things happening - but which have not yet happened. Some of it is just a feeling of impending evil coming.”
Music shrugged. “Maybe you should journal it down and see if any of our prophets can interpret it.”
“Yes, maybe I should do that. Thanks Father.”
“I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m glad to be back too.”
Once the doctors left Muse alone, Alto slipped into the room.
“Hello,” he said, lifting his head from the papers he’d stacked in front of him.
“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.
“Oh - um. I was just journalling out all the strange dreams I’ve had.”
“What on earth for?”
“Some of them seemed significant at the time. Significant enough for me to tell garbled messages to my mother,” he said, twirling the pen in his hand.
“Hm. Sounds like a good idea. Do you want to go for a walk first though? You’ve been cooped up in here for entirely too long.”
“Well, yes, that’s true,” Muse said. He stretched as he got up. “Maybe that’s a good idea. This can be done later.”
She smiled at him. “I missed you so much.”
“Yes, Tenor tells me you had a feud with Bass over it.”
“Did he?” she blushed. “That wasn’t his story to tell.”
“Oh, he didn’t intend to. It just kind of slipped out when we were talking about Bass and his disappearance.”
“But I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Right about?”
“That he did this to you.”
He stopped on the stairs. “How are you sure?”
“I just know it.”
“But how?” They continued on the way out to the gardens.
“I mean, why else would he disappear now and then you suddenly return to yourself? I think he got into some kind of trouble when Song passed the Rights of Kingship. Maybe that’s why he lost his hold over you.”
“That’s all conjecture.”
“I believe that more of the burnt nobles will find their powers returning. Maybe we could get them to try it out.”
“And disappoint them severely when nothing happens?”
“I’m quite sure I’m right.”
Muse laughed.
“What?”
“You haven’t changed a bit, Miss Cocksure.”
“I’m just so happy to have you back I’ve reverted to my normal happy self,” she said.
“That’s nice to know.”
She linked arms with him as they walked to the rose garden. It brought back memories of happier times when they were young and had sat in the garden for hours and hours, talking of the future, dreaming of their life together, enjoying each other’s company. She savoured the moment, glad that her best friend had returned to his normal self. They took a seat on a bench, looking out at the little lake. Swans floated gracefully past on the water in front of them.
“Did you ever dream of me?” she asked.
He tried to recall. “You talked to me, I think. But I could never make out what you were trying to say.”
She nodded. “I visited you a few times. Most of the time I ended up feeling like I was talking to myself. You’d end up either staring at me or babbling something I couldn’t understand. After a while, I couldn’t bear it.”
He reached over and grasped her hand. “It’s okay, Alto. I understand.”
“I should have kept at it. Maybe you would have recovered faster.”
“Don’t be silly, Alto. Whatever you did, nothing would have made an impact. I don’t think it was natural causes that made me that way. I don’t think it was an after effect. I believe that something - someone - was working behind the scenes. It was deliberate, no doubt about it. I don’t know if it was Bass,” he stopped her from saying it. “I just think there was someone behind it.”
“I wish we knew who.”
“I think I did dream about you, after all,” Muse said, staring out over the water.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know what it means though.”
He looked down at their hands, their fingers intertwined.
“You were holding my hand. You wouldn’t let go. And then She spoke to me.”
“She?”
“The Song of the World. It was strange that I could hear her. I don’t know if it was really her, but in my dreams, she was this old, old woman, so tired, waiting for rescue. She would tell me things, hoping that I could convey them to others in the world, but I never could. She told me that I had to let you go. That if I held on to you both of us would drown. If you held on to me, I would pull you down with me, so I would have push you away if you did.”
He stopped as tears stung Alto’s eyes unexpectedly.
“What - And then what?” she said huskily.
“I told her that I couldn’t. It would hurt too much. I would never heal. And then she said that if I let you go now, you would heal me. Sometime in the future. But if I didn’t, there was no hope of a future for us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.”
She watched the ducks flap around in the water, a sharp contrast to the graceful swans. He’d pulled his hand away as he talked and her heart had sunk deeper and deeper. Why must he talk about this now, in the middle of my happiness? Why must he bring it up now when my joy is finally complete? Why could he not wait, at least, until we were more stable? But she knew there was no better time than now, before they got reacquainted.
“So where do you want to go from here?” she asked.
He didn’t reply. He was staring out at the lake blankly.
“Muse?”
There was a frighteningly familiar vague look on his face as he turned towards her.
“Muse - are you okay?”
“Let me go. Then find me,” he said in a hint of his normal voice.
“Muse, I don’t understand.”
“Mummy? Where’s mummy?” he looked around frantically. “Where did mummy go?”
“Hush, Muse, hush. I’ll take you to her,” Alto said, hugging him close to her. Tears streamed down her face as she held her lover’s hand in hers and led him back into the Palace.
Song tied the knot vindictively. “How did you get loose?” he muttered to the doll in his hand. “I’ll tie you so tight you won’t breathe.” He took a few calming breaths and then jabbed it in the stomach.
“There. I hope you have an ulcer. I don’t take kindly to people who babble. And you’ve been babbling. It’s a good thing for you I saw your papers before anyone else, you know? Otherwise I’d have had to kill you. And I don’t think I want to do that… yet.”
He looked at the sheaves of paper that he had stolen from Muse’s room. Flipping through them, he paled. “She talks to you, does she? It’s a good thing I got to you in time. She’ll never talk to you again.”
Throwing the papers aside, he rummaged through the mess on the table until he found a sharp pin. Picking up Muse’s poppet, he plunged the pin into the back of its head. With a grim smile, he locked the door behind him.
King Music slammed the table in anger when he heard the news.
“I don’t care what all of you are doing - I want Bass and I want him now! Whoever you have, send them out. Search this whole Palace, search the whole city. Don’t leave any stone unturned. I want that traitor… he needs to pay.”
For once, Queen Soprano had no calming words for him. Nothing to soothe his spirit, nothing to turn his mood. Her shoulders slumped, she hid her face in her hands. To have her son returned to her so miraculously and then to have him torn away again, and worse than before, was too excruciating. It was too much to bear.
He lay groaning on the bed, holding his head in his hands, curled up in a fetal position.
“It hurts, mummy, it hurts,” he whined over and over again. She reached over the comfort him, but found that she couldn’t. She couldn’t find any words to say, anything that would make him feel better.
Alto put an arm around her as she sobbed. “I’ll take care of him, my queen. You should go and rest.”
“Why is this happening, Alto? Why did he come back just to go away again?”
“We will find him. We will pull him back from where he is. Now we know that it wasn’t an accident - that the Song of the World didn’t do this to him during the testing - now we can search for the source of this illness.”
“What if we never find it?”
“Don’t worry, we will.”
The queen looked at her grim features, the scowl that had set across her eyebrows and pursed lips.
“He told me to look for him, right before he… he disappeared. Those were his last words to me. And find him, I will.” She gently led the queen away.
“What will you do?”
Alto shook her head. “I don’t know yet.”
“Be careful. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
“I know who I’m up against. And I know all his weaknesses.”
She refused to say anything more than that. Returning to Muse’s side, she took his hand. He whimpered up at her.
“Don’t worry, Muse. We’ll defeat him.”
“Can you sing me to sleep?”
“Sure, my dear.” She laid a hand upon his head, brushing back the stray hairs that kept falling into his eyes. Then she sang. It was almost a lullaby, the one song he had written for her during their days of courtship. She’d almost forgotten it - no one used it now - but sitting with him, watching his face full of pain, it flowed into her mind.
Sleep, darling
Let no harm befall you
Sleep, my sweetling
I am beside you
And I will be beside you
All the days of your life
I will stand with you
In the midst of strife
I will always love you
Through all life’s despair
And I’ll be with you
Through storm and through fair