Something was off. Kinnet could feel the wrongness of his song, the jarring parts that jostled each other. She didn't know what it was that made it so. She wondered what it sounded like to the others. She opened her mouth and pushed vibrations from her throat, not knowing and not caring what the prince or his general or the captain would think of her. She abandoned her dignity and matched the stormsinger's song, and when she had the grasp of what was wrong with it, she fixed it.
It was sheer arrogance to think she could sing better than this great leviathan, this master singer. It was madness to believe she could correct his mistake.
But when she changed the song, she felt an instant answer. Not in the storm, for there was no reprieve. If anything, the lightning flashed more furiously than before. And not in the sea, for the waves tossed them, sending the Dawn Star rolling one way and then the other.
But there was an answer.
Tears streamed down Kinnet's face, mingling with the rain, and she shook with the power of the answer. They will come, she told the stormsinger. They hear us.