As Cindy grieved, she heard footsteps cut through the silence. She had been followed. Her running off teary-eyed had piqued the Guardian's curiosity; and at any rate, it gave him a somewhat valid excuse to leave the crowd behind him.

Hullo!

Silence.

It seems we've lost her.

No matter. As long as we can say we were looking for her if mother or father ask.

Thoroughly tired, and lazy by constitution, the Guardian opted not to spend another moment looking for the stranger and so, with half a mind to fall into a nap, he took a seat at the foot of a terebinth tree. As you may have guessed, this was the same terebinth tree under which sat Cindy but the two took no real notice of each other since Cindy was facing the west and the Guardian was facing the east and both of their backs were against the terebinth trunk.

Cindy knew of some kind of passerby, at first, but when all fell silent again, she assumed that whoever it was had come and gone without a fuss. And so, after a wait long enough for her to breathe again, she freely wept as though alone, making the Guardian finally take notice of her and feel very awkward about it.

Look at that.... The very same tree... What are the odds?

No matter the odds, what do we do?

What do you mean?

Should we say something? Maybe try to comfort her?

A complete stranger? Are you insane?

Our specialty is making people cry. You want us to-

Alright, enough of that. You lot really make me sound like a prig.

He says, having taken the first available excuse to run away from the party and sulk alone under a tree.

But I'm not alone.

By accident!

What if she notices us?

What if she already has?

Why does that matter?

What if she realises that we've been listening to her cry this whole time?

It only sounds creepy when you phrase it like that!

How would you phrase it?

We're minding our own business is all!

I'm just saying, it might be embarrassing.

What's there to be embarrassed about?

She's letting her emotions run wild, thinking she's alone. I know I'd be embarrassed if I found out someone was eavesdropping.

But we're not eavesdropping though. It's pure coincidence that we're close enough to hear her.

Rubbish coincidence. This is Causality torturing us.

Shut up! And anyway, why do you care if she's embarrassed? I repeat, she's a complete stranger.

I don't care.

Liar.

Am not.

Good!

Great!

Fine!

Brother! Are you there!

Of course.

Being ever diligent in his annoying-little-brother duties, Boyscout had noticed Malachi running off for privacy and waited until the most recent performance was over before rushing over to drag him back. His shouts and yells leapt through that empty part of the park, sending both the Guardian and Cindy into a frightful panic. Without a second thought, Malachi rushed over to his loud-mouthed brother to keep him from wandering to the terebinth tree. From Cindy's point-of-view, there was little clue that he had rushed over from the tree itself rather than simply past it on-the-way from elsewhere. However, she was not quite relieved since- wherever they had come from -the two young Overseers had landed close enough to be involuntarily heard.

There you are. What are you doing out here, then?

: I was... Following one of the contestants. She seemed troubled. I was concerned.

We can't say that. He'll want to see her.

And if we say we've lost her?

He'll want to try finding her! Anything to prove us a liar!

But we're not lying!

But the alternative is him bothering her!

Why do you care?

I don't care!

Good!

Great!

Fine!

It's cause she's pretty isn't it?

Sod off!

I... just wanted some solitude.

At least you're honest about it... for once. Here!

Out of his pocket, the Boyscout produced a scarf which he promptly tossed on his brother' face.

What is this?

A compromise.

Ridiculous.

It's pronounced caution, big brother. You know the rules. Gloves, shoes, masks, wigs, coats, the lot. The Medusa Plague is no casual matter.

Look at you, feigning concern. No, it's not caution but politeness that brings you. Have the guests been complaining about me? Tell father, I couldn't care less.

First of all, it was mother who sent me. She's already found and put away your wig. And she asks only that you wear this to protect yourself against a disease with no known cure.

Caution against a disease with two fatalities in as many decades.

Two known fatalities. Since when did you start trusting politicians?

Since when did you start rubbishing them behind their back?

(angrily) I'm not- (calming down) Fine then. Burn it, put it on, I don't care. It's out of my hands and you're on your own. As if anyone could stand to be around you long enough to catch your sicknesses. Have fun being a prig, Kai.

At the sound of his fate, albeit shortened, Guardian froze a little. Yet, he could not precisely scold his little brother since he obviously thought they were alone when he said it. And, in any case, the mention- and the comment about catching illnesses -reminded him that he and his brother were not, in fact, alone so he quickly tied the scarf o'er his hair and began walking away, saying...

Fair enough. Come on then, let's head back to the table.

I'm sorry? The Master of Sulking suddenly wants to join the party?

Sod off.

Will do but first, answers. What's changed? Are you hiding something?

No one- I mean, nothing. You really are rubbish.

I am agog! I am aghast! Do I detect a romantic rendezvous? Is that why you're out here?

Don't be obtuse. Now, let's head back before father-

And now caring about what father thinks? No, not you. Never you. By the pinky, is there a girl behind one of these trees? (with a gasp) Upon my word, is it that fire-haired maiden who ran out before you? Has this been some discrete "You go first and I'll go two minutes later" sort of plot

You delight in too many dramas. Enough of your rubbish, let's leave.

It is her, isn't it? No wonder you were so against the contest. You've already met her and you want to hide her from us.

A word of counsel little one: Don't.

Technically, that's two words.

Truce.

I do not negotiate with terrorists. Honestly, after all the trouble Mama went through to arrange everything... At least tell me this: Is she pretty?

Excuse me?

You've only ever mentioned her song. Tell me, do her eyes sparkle, is her laugh the orchestra of your dreams?

There is no "her" you burp.

Liar! I will not leave until I am satisfied.

Fine! There is a girl! She is plain at best, very out of place, utterly bored and utterly boring! This whole thing was a waste of time and if I am keeping you lot apart, it is only to spare your venerable selves from the misfortune of meeting "her"! Now can we please leave!

And so Boyscout relented and the two went back to the party. Of course, he did not really believe that Malachi had come after a girl. Being a little brother, he was fairly confident that his brother would never love and, in that course, someday die alone. The accusation was, more or less, a lucky guess meant specifically to tease. Still, there had been a girl and she was listening rather intently to the whole thing. Make no mistake, she did not misunderstand the Guardian's final comments. She had experienced enough of the former Lord Gibbs' two-facedness to recognise a convenient lie when she heard it. There was no question of him seriously applying those qualities to her. That being said, she already hated the practice coming from her father and so she had even less patience for the juvenile Overseer. And indeed, the knowledge of falseness made the insults hurt no less. In fact, they sank so deep that she was left to wonder how the opinions of a stranger, whom she already despised, could weigh on her so.

She hated his having been present. However, as it turned out, if he had not been so, she would have missed her turn. When the call went out for "Joanne Smith" and no one answered, Guardian made a guess and returned to the terebinth tree. And there she was, curled up at the foot of the plant, unaware of her calling until she felt a tap on her shoulder which sent her into a frightful "Hark!" as she fell away. And indeed he too jumped back at the sound and let out an "Ah!" of his own.

Bloody- (sigh) Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just... are you Joanne Smith?

She nodded in reply, a little bewildered.

They are calling for you. It's your turn to perform. (after a pause) Now.

Getting a hold of herself, Cindy got up and raced towards the stage, briefly slamming into the Guardian as she went. As she ran, he yelled out after her...

You're welcome, by the way!

As if I'd thank you.

When she returned to the party, she found that, despite their insistence on not skipping contestants, not many people were looking for her. Most of them were half-asleep in their seats. Even the Overseers were looking a little worse for wear. To be clear, they had not come expecting to stay for very long. The notion of hearing every performance by every contestant hadn't even crossed their minds. The way his stock had pictured the night, Malachi's memory would stir around the dozenth performance, allowing them to crown the victor and promptly return home. However, Malachi's refusal to cooperate and their determination to be polite had come together in a headaching union to deprive them and all of Tolemac of their good night's sleep.

As if her nerves were not already gnawing at her, Cindy realised, then and there, the ultimate disadvantage of being contestant number ninety-six in a contest which began at dusk; no matter how well you played, everyone would be counting the seconds until you stopped and they could bring up the last two contestants and then wait for them to stop and then vote and, finally, go home for a long-sought-after sleep.

As she approached the instrument, which was certainly unlocked, a deep and painful fear arose from within her. From the beating of her heart to the tips of her nails, she began to ache as though she might soon puke. Her breaths were, at once, fragile and heavy and rare as gold. She was tempted then- thoroughly tempted -to simply play a single note on the lyrical and walk off- thus pleasing everyone in the best way she knew how.

After all, why not? What have I to lose or gain?

And then a voice- both distant and clear -gave its answer and drove the temptation away. The voice said...

Forget the Gibbses. Forget the audience. Forget me. Forget yourself and the promise of the Overseer blessing. Think of the song that deserves to be played.

As she looked cross her audience, all the yawns and shutting eyes and stretching arms vanished from her sight and all that remained was the sleeping James Gibbs; his jacket covering his sleeping wife and the head of his sleeping son on his lap. Then, full of the confidence given to her by the thought of no one listening, she moved to play. And full of the relief given to her by the thought of her own voicelessness she moved to sing.

You will never hear this, Papa. But I desperately need to say it.

And so she began.

It's been forever

I've longed to hear you

Would you please share

Your favourite story

I've spent forever

In broken wonder

Would someone please

Say what I did wrong

You came to me in tears

Said fairy tales weren't meant for us

I'd never be your happy ending

But little did you know

The day you first held me close

The stars above, they donned heaven's glow

Yes, life could be a fairy tale

If only you would take the chance

Give me your fate

And watch me never let you down

You must believe

Believe that we'd live ever after happily

When we've made-

Made the world brand new

Far away

A paradise for two

And indeed, in that whole party, no one really gave much care to the playing and no one heard the singing. That is, with the obvious exception of Malachi Brandonkin -who had heard the song better even than Ellie herself. He had, rather fortunately, made it back to the party by the time of her beginning and from the very first bar, his heart came alive like a pup whose owner had just come home after a long and dry absence. As he listened on, the same enchantment he felt that day outside the Hall of Psalms came pouring in- for the spell was carefully woven. It began with a quick ascent to a high note which hung for a few moments before hopping below and pausing once more and hopping down again. Indeed, it was the pauses and sudden jumps that caught his heart at first. Then, at the bottom of the jumps, there was a swift and steady ascent but it did not go very high then. It formed a strong foundation in the middle where the full chord set the stage and pulled back the heart's curtains for the melody- where the singing began. The melody was very much like a slow dance, substituting higher and lower for forward and back. The first verse was very much a poetry of dance. With every step back, came a step forward and on and on and rest. Then again, backwards and forwards and on and on. Then a twirl and a high note which, almost paradoxically, called to mind a dip. The music of longing and of trust filled the air even as the words were as air to most everyone there. In that moment, Malachi felt as though he could breathe the song in and it would wash clean his very soul. Indeed the chorus was paced like a deep breath; or rather a deep push. With a braced back, the boy clenched his fists as the tone ascended. And then it came. For the exhale, a descending tone which solidified at the very foundations of the song, settling down at the key's crowning chord. Then, the chorus ended with a penultimate tease; a phrase left incomplete at first before being repeated in its entirety and finally made whole.

When the playing was finished, Malachi looked upon the player with tear-filled eyes and watched as she marched off the stage without waiting for applause or permission. Indeed, he watched as she, without care even for the final result of the contest, promptly left the party and Sir Kevan's Park.