‘Because you are Chosen,’ he acknowledged. ‘I had not expected you to master the Listening so soon, though. My congratulations.’ Very carefully, he pictured himself as a boy at worship in front of the Singer’s great pyramid, the sun-hot stone stinging his bare knees and the sun itself beating the back of his head. He reconstructed the awe and wonder he’d felt, the press of adult bodies around him smelling of spices and chillies and sweat, the murmur of thousands of voices raised in praise.

Amusement. Very good, Pilos. And yet not good enough. Too little too late, some would say. I might say. Your thoughts have been very troubled of late, have they not? You worry for our great Singer, and that does you credit. But there is no need … Her voice drifted on the jangling currents and was gone, then back … need to see me.

‘The Melody is presenting itself before the palace as we speak. When I have discharged my duty to them I will request an audience with the great Singer as is required. Afterwards, if there is time before nightfall, I will visit your estate. I have a gift for you.’

He heard the beginnings of a question from Calan, quickly cut off, and frowned, slashing his hand through the air and straining to maintain the image in his mind that would be a wall between Enet and his deeper thoughts.

You grow bold.

‘I follow protocol, Great Octave, nothing more.’ Around him, his Feathers began a marching chant that praised the Singer and glorified the Empire and had the additional benefit of a strong beat that was easy to follow. Pilos held the picture of himself in his head and let the words and rhythm wash into his ears until soon, and yet not soon enough, the tickle in the back of his head that was Enet was gone.

He opened his eyes, gasping at the effort and the drain on his will and mind, and Detta gestured the Feathers to keep chanting as they hurried to the head of the Melody and there prostrated themselves before the palace of the Singer. The thousands of warriors who’d won the ballot to be present in the plaza picked up the chant, and soon enough it swelled, louder and louder, until it echoed back from the walls of the buildings edging the open space and even the songstone capping the great pyramid seemed to resonate with it, taking their words and their rhythm and adding harmonics and layers until the entire city seemed to shake with their victory.

A shiver ran through Pilos and he heard Calan’s voice come strangled as the young Feather’s emotions got the better of her.