Notes beyond human hearing wove with notes through the whole range of human intake as Zalaha sang. Her voice, which was now a dozen voices, as befits a Songmistress, soared through the rafters of the house and commanded the very air to carry it. The air responded, for all things bowed to the Shining Way, and so those notes rang put inside the house and for miles beyond, calling a Choir to loose the Way in earnest.
Those who heard it -- a score, no more, no less -- could no more have resisted Zalaha's call than they could have stopped their own hearts. The music wove through them, changing them, reforging them; but before it could do so, they assented to its demands down to the cellular level, gratefully accepting something they could never have fathomed before.
The song touched at random, or so it would appear; for while the Shining Way appears capricious to mortals, its Master and his Servants know that it serves the primal order of the Universe, even as it restructures what it touches.
And so it reached its first ears inside the house and outside at once.
