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uniform. The uniform
could have been military two centuries earlier, with its high stiff collar.
"Might I announce you?" The doorman smiled politely as he opened the door.
"Luara Cornett. I'm singing tonight. This is my accompanist, Marco
DiMicelli.
His eyes blanked for a moment, the way that happens when a permie links to a
system. I wondered what
he'd done to merit readjustment. They claimed that it took three crimes or two
violent ones, but I
wondered.
"Yes, Ms. Cornett. They're expecting you& and Mr. DiMicelli.
Another permie appeared to open Marco's door. "I'll park it for you. He
pressed a locator tag upon
Marco.
The entry portico was floored in more of the rose marble. When we walked
through the arches and open
double doors, a tall and slender blond woman, wearing a swirled green Grecian
chiffon that uncovered
her left shoulder, met us.
"You must be the singer. I'm Alcesta Clayton Roberta's mother. Roberta wanted
an old-fashioned
soiree, and her father insisted that there was nothing to do but have an
acoustic chamber concert the
kind that they had before resonance.
When music was still music, I reflected. I was surprised that the daughter was
agreeing to unmodified
vocal music. I've always disliked singing for the post-ed group. They're too
young to really understand,
and old enough to think they're experts at everything. To them, music is good
if they like it, and bad if
they don't, and they use their considerable verbal skills to justify
then-unsupported opinions.
"You are that kind of singer, aren't you? I mean, you don't use all that
equipment?"
"Just the piano, and my voice. I half turned. "This is my accompanist, Marco
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DiMicelli.
Marco bowed, smiling politely.
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Page No 125
"Dorn will be so happy you're here. And so will Roberta. With another smile,
she glanced back over her
shoulder. "Here she comes. Well& I'll leave you two in her capable hands. It
is her soiree.
"Very nice to meet you. I inclined my head.
So did Marco. He barely had recovered when the other tall woman reached us.
She was wearing a
black and red dress that was sheathlike, but not quite that clinging.
"Professor Cornett, I'm Roberta Clayton. She was tall, like her mother, but
with jet-black hair and
broader shoulders. Her eyes and smile were warm, but with the kind of warmth I
associated with
politicians, like Dr. Hinckle, the university president. "I'm so glad that
you're here.
She offered another smile, this one confidential. "Father said that you'd be
doing some Golden Age
vocals, as well as the more classical pieces. Is there any chance that you
will be singing 'My Funny
Valentine'? It's Father's favorite.
"Actually, there is. I was singing it. It had been on the request sheet. I
hadn't been about to ignore that.
"Good. She smiled a third smile. "Let me show you to the piano and the
Crystal Room. She turned and
led us along a marble-walled corridor to a green-carpeted ramp that circled
downward.
The Crystal Room was the huge expanse under the rose crystal dome. It was part
solarium, part garden,
and partly an indoor formal courtyard. There were small tables set in an arc
around a fountain. In front of
the fountain, a three-meter-high white-bronze sculpture of a unicorn bowing
his head to a maiden, there
was a dais raised about five decimeters above the polished rose marble of the
courtyard. On the dais
was a three-meter concert Stein way, shimmering black, and seemingly
untouched.
"It was tuned this afternoon, Roberta said.
Marco nodded acknowledgment.
"If you don't mind, I'll leave you two to do what you need to do. After you're
ready, please feel free to
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eat or have something to drink. Everyone will eat as they please. Roberta
gestured toward a long buffet
table, covered with pale rose linen.
"Generally, I don't eat until after I sing, I explained.
"That's fine, too. With a last flashing smile, she was gone.
Marco just stared for a moment.
I smiled. Roberta Clayton had put on quite a performance, and the soiree [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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