It took several seconds after Edwin stopped before the applause began. It was thunderous – and Alex was clapping as loudly as the rest.

“Unbelievable!” said Davida as Edwin descended from the stage. “Who knew you could sing so well?”

Edwin himself had not. Yet there it was: Edwin was a diamond in the rough, someone who already sang dead in tune (even on the microtones) and who would be a fine tenor indeed as an adult if his vocal instrument were properly trained.

“4.3 versus 4.9!” Dwight exclaimed in amazement when the scores were posted. “Now if you can only keep that up in the fugue…”

Edwin did, mostly. That last round was a battle royal, with the Phases’ *a capella* (yet still wordless) fugue pitted against the Heralds’ instrumental one. The Phases won that round 4.8 to 4.6, for Edwin found himself somewhat handicapped in performance despite his experience in writing simple fugues.

“Guys, you got it,” chortled Davida as the tired Heralds came down from the stage.

“After *that* much effort, I *hope* so,” said Nicholas, who sounded as if he would prefer Special Ops training to this intense sort of exercise.

“We got it,” said Leslie, who had been adding the figures in his head all along – a very easy task for him. “Listen.”

“The total score,” announced Amethyst with a broad smile, “is 14.0 for the Phases of Selene, 14.3 for the Harps and Heralds…”

What happened next was a long blur for Edwin, and reviewing the events with Aviad’s help didn’t help his sense of unreality much. Maybe it was the shock of getting such appreciative hugs from Davida and Helen, or of equally appreciative praise and slaps from his fellow Heralds. Maybe it was coming up to receive the award (five gold medals) from Amethyst with his fellow singers. Maybe it was the playful kiss that Amethyst planted on his forehead later, when no one else was looking. And maybe most of all it was Alex Starbright, alone of all the Phases, seeking Edwin out to congratulate him personally.

“I guess the Rangers win this year?” Edwin smiled at him. Edwin couldn’t help it; somehow, the boy’s sheer joy in living seemed to make mere winning and losing irrelevant.

“If I didn’t know better,” said Alex, “I’d say you were a Starbard in training yourself.”

Edwin laughed. “No, no, you can keep that title. I’m a Ranger, through and through.”