The Dark Symphony Read Free

Rosie, on the other hand, had become the most accomplished Musician in the entire Tower of Learning. Some said that he was a better pianist than even the Grand Meistro, Guil's father. Guil thought this was very true, though he knew he was limited in his own critical capabilities and dismissed his own opinions as irrelevant. But Rosie, despite his achievements, was touchy. He looked for slurs, for references to his deformities in everything that was said. He was hard to make friends with no matter how much one valued his friendship, for he analyzed even the words of his loved ones.
    Now, having analyzed Guil's words and expressions, Rosie answered uncertainly. "Thank you."
    Guil crawled on top of the shimmering orange piano, dangling his legs only an inch from the floor. "Tomorrow came fast, didn't it?"
    "What do you mean?" Rosie asked, crossing his hands uncomfortably on the keyboard.
    Ah, yes
, Guil thought,
the hands
. Tiny hooks of bone-hard cartilage jagged upward an inch on the back of each hand. "I mean, thirteen years and I don't remember what happened to me since I was four. Frederic and the lessons and the strap and going to bed and getting up and suddenly I'm seventeen. All too fast."
    Rosie relaxed visibly. When the conversation was not about him directly, when it was focused on life in general, he could manage to suspend a little of his doubt and suspicions. "I hope you make it, Guil."
    "I hope so too."
    "I won't."
    Guil looked up, startled, not certain that he had really heard what he thought he had. Then he smiled. "Oh, you're kidding, of course."
    "No." There was something dark behind Rosie's eyes, something that made Guil want to turn away.
    "That's silly! You're better than the lot of us."
    Rosie shook his head, setting his hair to bouncing. I'm afraid, Guil."
    "Everyone is. Good Heavens, we all might die tomorrow!
    "You don't understand." His head hung in the hollow between his gristled shoulders, his piercing eyes catching the light of the glowing panels above their heads.
    "Try me."
    I'm scared to death, Guil.
I'm so
scared that food won't stay down, and my gut is on fire all the time, spitting flames up my throat. I can't sleep, because the dreams wake me up screaming and give me chills for the rest of the night So I play and practice things that I don't need to practice and—and do other things until I collapse and am too tired to dream myself awake."
    "You must know you have a better chance than the rest of us."
    "There are some things you don't know about, Guil."
    "Toll me, then."
    For one, short moment, he seemed ready to spill whatever it was that filled him with liquid misery. Then he clamped his lips shut, forced a sigh through them that made them flutter like butterfly wings. The shell had slipped back into place. Rosie was isolated again, a world unto himself. He would suffer alone with whatever it was that made him afraid. "No, you are better off not knowing yet. You'll find out tomorrow—during the rituals."
    "You sure can keep a fellow in suspense," Guil said, dropping to his feet. "And if you don't want to tell me now, then I guess I just have to wait. Besides, I've got to be going. Father says that plenty of good food and sound sleep—and maybe a little of his last minute advice—is what I need to prepare me for tomorrow. I don't want to disappoint him."
    "Tomorrow," Rosie said, turning to the piano and launching into a furious torrent of notes that rattled the walls. As Guil opened the door and stepped into the hall, he thought he recognized the music as part of
Flight of the Bumblebee
from Rimsky-Korsakov's
Tsar Sultan
. Then it took a twist and a turn and was something he did not recognize. As the music faded behind him, he thought about that. If there was one thing he was good at, it was identifying tunes, memorizing styles so that he could at least recognize the composer. In this case, he could come up with nothing.
    On his way home to the Congressional Tower where his father's