[i]In a Manor far away and long ago, a sheep stands at the heart of all things. He bought his passage with the seal of the Head Chef, earned by prompt completion of his nightly tasks, and a workspace clean enough to eat off of. He has occupied this spot for no less than half an hour. At fifteen minutes to the Sound of Night, the Majordomo enters his study, where he will begin the preparations for the next day’s tasks. Alone. Dolce has occupied this spot for no less than half an hour. He was required to wait five more, for the Majordomo to stand upon the family crest, and finally incline his head to listen. 

“These ‘Starsong’ guests have given us a means to travel the stars.” Dolce recites his litany, rehearsed endlessly over boiling saucepans. “With careful bargaining, we could buy passage for a number of the Manor staff. Through them, we could find the Family again. We could serve them, not at distance, but directly. Perhaps, in all the years we have waited, they have found need of us. Perhaps they could need us, in the future. The risk is certainly great, but it may be worth it, if we could be at their side. Where we were born to be.”

He knew there would be questions. He’d made a list, so that his thundering heart wouldn’t forget, to stand at attention. Hands folded in front of him. Head bowed. Speak clearly. When spoken to, only.

“Chef. What is the third command?”

“A good servant is only seen when called for.”

“And the seventh?”

“A good servant is always watching for an opportunity to do more.”

“And who will take up your share of the work, when you are gone?”

He blinks. “Sir, if I have implied my inclusion into such a mission, I assure you, it was not my int-”

“Do you think me blind, chef? As well as stupid?!” The bark of the Majordomo swallows his apology, his heart, and his balance. “You hover at the table of our guests while the rest of the kitchen staff washes up. They looked at you - [b]looked[/b] at you! - and asked for more wine! Where is the chef who would have filled their drinks before they realized they were empty?!”

He is on all fours now. Eyes to the ground. Wrong. Wrong. He got it wrong. “Yes sir. Sorry sir. It was a terrible lapse in judgment, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”

“You have been preparing to serve for your entire life, and this is the result?! Now here you are; on your hands and knees, begging me to shatter 200 years of tradition, because [b]you have an idea[/b].” The Majordomo kneels beside him, perilously close to his ear. Every growling whisper threateens to grow. Any word could become a bark. “No sheep in my flock behaves so poorly. No sheep of mine would shame me with this display.”

But he made no sound. No breath. No whimper. No sobbing, in spite of flowing tears. His master snorted. The chef moved not a muscle. “So. Maybe you are one of mine, after all…”

The Majordomo pads across the room. A key pushes tumblers into place. A lock clicks. From a cabinet full of shining bells, the heaviest sings faintly at his touch. And he waits. 

“Now prove it: On your feet.”[/i]

************************************

The question is solid. The question is a direction. The question nudges a sheep forward, saying this much, I would like to know this much, at least.

The rocking is lovely. Alexa’s hugs were worthy of legend. 

“It struck me, hearing her Highness speak to the Starsong.” Loud. Bright-eyed. Warm as could be. “How many worlds had I seen where thrones and Emergency Declarations would really change things? So I thought, wouldn’t it be nice, once the stars were open to all, if everybody had the freedom to actually [i]go[/i] to them? With whoever they wanted. Or, maybe to just go to the stars, to find the people they’d want to travel with. Or stay with. Or, anything, really. Nobody kept where they didn’t want to be.”

“There’s a lot of people it would help, I think. And, without somebody to wish like that, it could be a very, very long time before they could be free. I think that would be a better universe. I think that’d be a really good thing to do.”

It’s nice. Very nice. He hopes you’ll think so too.

Maybe you’ll even tell him he ought to cross, for a wish like that.