Benja and Xochitl fell into a respectful silence, along with all the others who'd been permitted into the Chancel hall to witness the proceedings.
With the formal introductions and pleasantries over, Pampaa sat down in the lone chair facing the arcing Tall Table of Judges.
The Prelate got right to it. "Your daughter is in a right mess, Ignacio."
Pampaa nodded. "I'm aware she failed her Criterion, Your Holiness, but I'm not sure what--"
The Prelate waved it away like a gnat. "The Criterion is beside the point. No, the problem is with her singing."
Benja frowned, confused. Singing? "But Etzli doesn't sing," he muttered.
"My daughter doesn't like to sing," Pampaa told the Judges.
The Prelate steepled his fingers. "We have evidence proving she does and, further, that the peculiar song
