“Father Potoo says the curse means that I will grow only so high, and no more. So I should not think of becoming the music teacher instead of him, for the music teacher must be seven feet tall.”

“I haven’t heard of this rule. Why seven?”

“So that, when he stands before the people to lead them in song, he can be seen.”

I rolled my eyes. In my estimation, Father Potoo seemed most concerned with protecting his own position. “Father Potoo told you that, did he? Do you believe that you’ve been cursed?”

“Of course! Father Potoo is very wise.” He leaned forward and whispered, “But see, Father Potoo doesn’t know that I do not wish to be the music teacher.”

“Oh yes, I remember. The Master of Music.” I spread my hands in the air, imitating him, and we laughed together. He began to cough. I patted his back as the fit subsided.

“I once led all of Cobane in song,” he said, weakly. The coughing had exhausted him.

“Did you?”

“Yes. Father Potoo was away. I stood on a chair on top of a table, and I led them all.”

His breath came slower, and his words slurred on the brink of sleep.

“What song?” I asked.

His eyes closed. “Auntie? Are you there?”

I squeezed his hand. “I’m here, Fount. I asked you a question. What song did you lead?”

He spoke, around a yawn. “My favorite song.”

“And what’s that? What is your favorite song?” Knowing this one thing was suddenly vitally important to me. I shook him. “What is your favorite song, Fount? You must sing it to me before I go.”

He paused for so long, I thought he had not heard. I was about to shake him again, when the ghost of a smile tilted his mouth. His eyes remained closed, but he took a deep breath, filling his thin chest—and sang. “Will I go away someday; will I fly? Someday, someday, someday.”

He held the last note then his face went blank in repose.

My throat contracted. “He didn’t finish,” I said.

“He did,” William assured me.

I tore my eyes from his face and looked up. “So short?”

“Not short for us. We sing over and over, for many hours.” He arranged the blanket around Fount’s small frame. Finished, he turned to me. “We get water. Arika must drink.”

“I know where the tap is now. I can get it myself.” I picked up the water bucket, knowing what William would say even before he shook his head, obstinately.

“We go together,” he assured me.

Seeing the stubborn set of his jaw, I knew it was pointless to protest. I passed him the water bucket. “Fine, we go together,” I agreed.