Page 16 of Up in Smoke

I sang along with the women, allowing myself to enjoy a piece of my own past while experiencing the moment Beethoven had brought his masterpiece to life using the voices of instruments and humanity.

When the finale swelled to its conclusion, one of the women at the front turned Beethoven to face the audience so he could witness their applause. Aware of his deafness, and that he would never hear the thunder rolling through the chamber, they waved their hats and kerchiefs, raised their hands, and celebrated the man bereft of the beauty of his own creation.

Saturday, May 30, 2043.

New Orleans, Louisiana.

The South.

“I never would have guessedyou’re a soprano,” Sandro said, and his voice jarred me back to New Orleans, stealing me away from the screaming, clapping audience of the past. I blinked, turning my head to stare at him. The music hall remained as I remembered before he’d begun playing the piano, the gemstones still in their boxes and the Voodoo queens seated in the front row.

“I guess. I’d forgotten,” I admitted. “And I’d forgotten An die Freude is far more than the truncated versions orchestras perform of the finale.”

“It’s a good thing I, at the last moment, decided to do the full symphony in its original form and not just the finale, else you would have been humming the first movement while I’d been fiddling about in the fourth,” he teased. “You knew the whole thing, too. I’m impressed.”

“The whole thing is over an hour,” I said, allowing myself a frown, wondering if time had flowed in the same way in the past, and if I’d been sucked into the premier at the moment Sandro had dedicated himself to the entire symphony. “You played the entire thing from memory?”

“I may have sung the counterpart to your soprano, too. It was amusing when you decided to conduct near the beginning. You almost threw me off, except you knew exactly what you were doing—if anything, it spiced up how I usually play the symphony. I’m usually more conservative on my transitions and crescendos, but it was a challenge following your lead.”

Crap. I hadn’t expected I would have started waving my hands about like an idiot in the present while lost with Beethoven in the past. “Without a baton?”

“You used your finger. Close enough. I’d just figured you’d gotten hit with the music, because you’re the closest to me, and as you seemed quite happy with your role, I let it be. I wouldn’t call you a music mage, but there’s something there.”

“It’s her potential as the Queen,” Ryleigh said, relaxing in her seat in the front row. “She led the symphony because that is her role. Think of her Voodoo as a gateway, and when she opens the door, other magics can slip through—and grow stronger, for it has her blessing. Consider it her blessing—and the city’s blessing—on your work. You play the piano masterfully, Sandro. I had not known you could do that symphony so much justice with but one instrument. You have given us a great gift this night, and that is before we see what your magic has wrought. I had expected the gemstones to be used, though.”

Sandro shrugged. “They serve a different purpose. What that purpose is? I couldn’t tell you. They may have amplified my song, however. I’m a little concerned for the songbirds here, though. Over an hour is much different from just the finale—and the finale is potent enough on its own.”

“And you played it per the original rather than the shortened version many use as a sampler of the Ninth,” Ryleigh replied. “It will be fine. You anticipated issues, and you planned for a way to protect our people while you reinforced our levees until we can find a permanent solution to our plight.”

“And if there is a choir here trying to stir up trouble in the Alley, I hope they’ve learned there is a shark in the waters,” Sandro growled. He pushed away from the piano, circled to me, and held out his hands to help me down. “I hit you rather hard with my magic, so be careful when you walk. You might melt into a puddle, and I’d rather you be close enough I can catch you.”

I made it two steps before his prediction became reality, and my legs collapsed beneath me. I yelped, but he caught me by the arm and eased me to the stage floor. “That doesn’t count as a faint,” I told him, blinking and poking at my quivering legs. “Okay. I’ll bite. Why am I on the floor?”

“As I said, my magic packs a punch here, and I essentially forced you to be part of my choir for the entirety of Beethoven’s Ninth. There’s a reason composers stop after completing their eighth symphony.”

“There is? Why?”

“Because there is only one Ninth. And that’s Ludwig van Beethoven’s. There can be better firsts. Better seconds. Better thirds. But there is only one Ninth. When I realized my magic was tied with music in all of its forms in the Alley and the South, I made a point of learning to play and compose in the East. I didn’t feel I could master the Alley or the South until I mastered Beethoven, specifically the Ninth on piano. But you reminded me my mastery, such as it is, could benefit from improvement. You made my music whisper. You made it shout in triumph. And I, in my conservative safe way, never did those things when I played alone. I would play a little softer or with more force, but I wouldn’t make the piano barely breathe the notes or hit the upper limits of its force. But that’s music in the South for you. Always expect the unexpected.”

“But was it good?” I asked.

Sandro smiled. “Fortunately for you, I believe Ryleigh recorded the whole thing, for she is as wise as she is beautiful, as are her sister queens.”

“Smooth,” Ryleigh complimented with a laugh. “But yes, the whole thing has been recorded, and I will show you the recording later. Your vixen will want you leashed because she is jealous and possessive, but you need not wear it. The collar you’ll wear, but more for her comfort than yours. She knows it is your security. I recommend you carry her. When her magic comes calling here, it exacts its toll, and I believe the city sang through her this night in these hallowed halls. And with your help, I pray the silence that has befallen the sacred heart of my home be finally broken. After you both rest, we will make good on our word and begin the hunt for these dark choirs in earnest.”