[Estelyn Telcontar]

Soregum’s head spun. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of that performance; it wasn’t what he called music, though it was indubitably excellent in its own way. He had had to concentrate to follow the text; now he tried to be objective in deciding on its merits. Before his mind’s eye, two little faces appeared. On the right side of his field of vision, a sweet face with the most enormous blue eyes and a beguiling smile, surrounded by reddish-golden curls, gazed at him.

“That was a really super number, and he wrote some great lyrics,” the charming red lips told him. “He deserves lots of points.”

From the left side, burning black eyes smouldered out of a black face and – well, everything about him was black. “He might be OK, but he’s on the wrong side,” a hollow voice informed him.

“The nice man gave you some money,” reminded the pretty face.

“That’s bribing!” scorned the other.

“Since when have you gone moral?” the girl pouted adorably. “If you give him points, the Quarterling might be very thankful,” she added.

“Ha! Fat chance – she’s already got a boyfriend,” sneered the black face.

“This is your chance to earn the gratitude of all of them, and perhaps join their group,” appealed the angelic one.

“Do you really think they’d want someone like you to go with them – if they even get out of here alive, that is,” the evil face mocked.

“Half-Hobbit and the others are your friends,” purred the angelic face.

“You don’t have any friends,” jeered the black one.

“You’re not listening!” came a sharp reprimand from yet a third face, appearing between the two and causing them to disappear. Leninia’s eyes looked directly into Soregum’s. “I said, how many points for the Grundorian candidate?”

Soregum found that he could not tear his eyes from that gaze. Mechanically, he answered, “Two points.”

“Noooooo!” came a cry from backstage, but Leninia waved a hand imperiously and said, “The jury has spoken – next song!”