Part 4 (1/2)

I fingered the cuff of my left sleeve, understanding him better than he imagined.

”Get the ink, maidy,” he said. ”I want to cross things off the list.”

I fetched writing implements and the roster of tasks he had dictated to me when I first began working for him. There were only nine days left until General Comonot, Ardmagar of All Dragonkind, arrived; there was to be a welcoming concert and ball the first evening, followed a few days later by the Treaty Eve festivities, which had to last all night. I'd been working for two weeks, but there was plenty left to do.

I read the list aloud, item by item; he interrupted me at will. He cried, ”The stage is finished! Cross it off!” and then later, ”Why haven't you spoken with the wine steward yet? Easiest job on the list! Did I become court composer through masterful procrastination? Hardly!”

We arrived at the item I'd been dreading: auditions. Viridius narrowed his watery eyes and said, ”Yes, how are those going, Maid Dombegh?”

He knew perfectly well how they were going; apparently he wanted to watch me sweat. I kept my voice steady: ”I had to cancel most of them due to Prince Rufus's inconveniently timed demise-dine he with the Saints at Heaven's table. I've rescheduled several for-”

”Auditions should never have been put off until the last minute!” he shouted. ”I wanted the performers confirmed a month ago!”

”With respect, master, I wasn't even hired a month ago.”

”Do you think I don't know that?” His mouth worked up and down; he stared at his bandaged hands. ”Forgive me,” he said at last, his voice rough. ”It is a bitter thing not to be able to do everything you are accustomed to. Die while you're young, Seraphina. Tertius had the right idea.”

I did not know how to respond to that. I said, ”It's not as dire as it seems. Each of your many proteges will attend; the program is half filled already.”

He nodded thoughtfully at the mention of his students; the man had more proteges than most people have friends. It was nearly time for Princess Glisselda's lesson, so I corked the ink and began hastily cleaning my pen with a rag. Viridius said, ”When can you meet with my megaharmonium fellow?”

”Who?” I said, placing the pen in a box with the others.

He rolled his red-rimmed eyes. ”Explain why I write you notes if you don't read them. The designer of the megaharmonium wants to meet you.” Apparently I continued to look blank, because he spoke loudly and slowly, as if I were stupid: ”The enormous instrument we're building in the south transept of St. Gobnait's? The me-ga-har-mo-ni-um?”

I recalled the construction I'd seen in the cathedral, but not the note, which I must have overlooked. ”It's a musical instrument? It looks like a machine.”

”It's both!” he cried, his eyes alight with glee. ”And it's nearly finished. I funded half of it myself. It's a fitting project for an old man on his way out of this life. A legacy. It will make a sound like nothing this world has ever heard before!”

I gaped at him; I'd glimpsed an excitable young man inside the irascible old one.

”You must meet him, my other protege. Lars,” he proclaimed as if he were the Bishop of Gout Couch, speaking ex cathedra. ”He built the Comonot Countdown Clock in the cathedral plaza, too; he's a veritable prodigy. You would get along famously. He only comes by late, but I shall persuade him to visit at some reasonable hour. I'll tell you when I see you this evening at the Blue Salon.”

”Not tonight, forgive me,” I said, rising and pulling my harpsichord books off one of Viridius's cluttered shelves.

Princess Glisselda held a soiree almost every evening in the Blue Salon. I had a standing invitation to attend but had never gone, despite Viridius's pestering and snarling at me. Being guarded and cautious all day left me exhausted by evening, and I couldn't stay out late because I had a garden to tend and a scale-care regimen I couldn't skip. I could tell Viridius none of that; I had pled shyness repeatedly, but still he pushed.

The old man c.o.c.ked a bushy eyebrow and scratched his jowls. ”You will get nowhere at court by isolating yourself, Seraphina.”

”I am exactly where I wish to be,” I said, thumbing through parchment sheets.

”You risk offending Princess Glisselda by snubbing her invitation.” He squinted at me shrewdly and added: ”It's not quite normal to be so antisocial, now is it?”

My insides tensed. I shrugged, determined to give no hint that I was susceptible to the word normal.

”You will come tonight,” said the old man.

”I already have plans tonight,” I said, smiling; this was why I practiced.

”Then you will come tomorrow night!” he cried, bursting with anger at me now. ”The Blue Salon, nine o'clock! You will be there, or you will find yourself abruptly out of employment!”

I could not tell whether he was bluffing; I didn't know him well enough yet. I took a shaky breath. It wouldn't kill me to go once, for half an hour. ”Forgive me, sir,” I said, inclining my head. ”Of course I'll come. I had not understood how important it was to you.”

Keeping my smile raised like a s.h.i.+eld between us, I curtsied and quit the room.

I heard them giggling from out in the corridor, Princess Glisselda and whichever lady-in-waiting she'd dragged along with her this time. It sounded like an agemate, from the pitch of the giggle. I wondered, briefly, what a giggle concerto might sound like. We would need a chorus of- ”Is she very, very cranky?” asked the lady-in-waiting.

I froze. That question couldn't pertain to me, surely?

”Behave!” cried the princess, her laugh like water. ”I said p.r.i.c.kly, not cranky!”

I felt my face go hot. p.r.i.c.kly? Was I really?

”She's good-hearted, anyway,” added Princess Glisselda, ”which makes her Viridius's opposite. And nearly pretty, only she does have such dreadful taste in gowns and I can't work out what she thinks she's doing with her hair.”

”That might be easily corrected,” said the lady-in-waiting.

I'd heard enough. I stepped through the doorway, fuming but trying not to confirm my reputation. The lady-in-waiting was half Porphyrian, judging by her dark curls and warm brown skin; she put a hand to her mouth, embarra.s.sed at being overheard. Princess Glisselda said, ”Phina! We were just talking about you!”

It is a princess's privilege to feel no social awkwardness, ever. She smiled, gloriously unashamed; the sunlight through the windows behind her made a halo of her golden hair. I curtsied and approached the harpsichord.

Princess Glisselda rose from her window seat and flounced after me. She was fifteen, a year younger than me, which made me feel odd about teaching her; she was pet.i.te for her age, which made me feel like a gawky giantess. She loved pearl-studded brocade and was possessed of more confidence than I could imagine having. ”Phina,” she chirped, ”meet Lady Miliphrene. She is, like you, enc.u.mbered with an unnecessarily long name, so I call her Millie.”

I nodded acknowledgment to Millie but held my tongue about the silliness of that comment, coming from someone named Glisselda.

”I have reached a decision,” the princess announced. ”I shall perform at the Treaty Eve concert, that galliard and pavano. Not Viridius's suite: the one by Tertius.”

I had been placing music upon the stand; I paused, book in hand, weighing my next words. ”The arpeggios in the Tertius were a challenge to you, if you recall-”

”Do you imply my skill is insufficient?” Glisselda lifted her chin dangerously.

”No. I merely remind you that you called Tertius a 'poxy cankered toad' and threw the music across the room.” Here both girls burst out laughing. I added, as gingerly as one stepping onto an unstable bridge, ”If you practice and take my advice about the fingerings, you ought to be able to work it up sufficiently well.” Sufficiently well not to embarra.s.s yourself, I might've added, but it seemed imprudent to do so.

”I want to show Viridius that Tertius played badly is better than his piddling tunes played well,” she said, wagging a finger. ”Can I attain that level of petty vindictiveness?”

”Undoubtedly,” I said, and then wondered whether I should have replied so quickly. Both girls were laughing again, however, so I took it that I was safe.

Glisselda seated herself on the bench, stretched her elegant fingers, and launched into the Tertius. Viridius had once proclaimed her ”as musical as a boiled cabbage”-loudly and in front of the entire court-but I'd found her diligent and interested when treated respectfully. We hammered at those arpeggios for more than an hour. Her hands were small-this wouldn't be easy-but she neither complained nor flagged.

My stomach ended the lesson by growling. Trust my very body to be rude!

”We should let your poor teacher go to lunch,” said Millie.

”Was that your stomach?” asked the princess brightly. ”I'd have sworn there was a dragon in the room. St. Ogdo preserve us, lest she decide to crunch our bones!”

I ran a tongue over my teeth, delaying until I could speak without scolding. ”I know deriding dragons is something of a national sport for us Goreddis, but Ardmagar Comonot is coming soon, and I do not think he would be amused by that kind of talk.”

Saints' dogs. I was p.r.i.c.kly, even when I tried not to be. She hadn't been exaggerating.

”Dragons are never amused by anything,” said Glisselda, arching an eyebrow.