- I don’t want your fame.
- But that has to be part of the deal. The End and Fame Agreement demands it. My fame has to be part of the deal. It’s absolutely vital.
- I don’t want to hear about that story of the End Agreement. Let’s do this: I’ll work for you here and now. I’ll play whatever you want for six months, as long as I can learn the music, and then you can let her go. Go home.
- Wonderful! You want to bargain. You want to play! So, let’s go. Let’s forget the End and Fame Agreement. But I’m the one who plays the cards. I propose a game of dice and charades with your music. You’re very good, I know. You’ll have plenty of chances to win. Try your luck.
This said, she opened the top drawer of a white lacquered dressing table, whose pure crystal mirror always reflected her beauty at its best angle. She took two dice from inside the drawer and rolled them on the bed. They were two dice full of life and malice, which tumbled and grew for everyone to see. They became flashing dice, each side measuring more or less twenty centimeters, showing a number and more and more images of luxury and glamour that alternated at random.
- I’m sure that a determined, intelligent girl such as you can come out of this well. You might even beat me.
- Spare me your praises. I’m not much as yet, but I think I might be one day if I study. I don’t like games of chance, either. It’s obvious that luck won’t be on my side. Nobody’s better at cheating than someone who lives by it.
The Fairy Queen of the Death of Art and her soldiers stayed completely quiet; however, the wind seemed to blow the sound of laughter followed by words that spoke of the dangers of challenging the Fairy Queen of Fame head-on. But this time, and to everyone’s surprise, she didn’t allow the unstable side of her temperament to explode.
- Look at that, my little rats. She thinks she’s immune to vanity. She’s smart, that one. She doesn’t want to try her luck. Ok. I’m a friend. So let’s play the Orpheus game.
- That doesn’t count either!
- Why not? You don’t even know what it is. You didn’t even wait for me to explain.
- Because I’ve already studied Greek Mythology. You can’t beat death or whatever. In the end, you’ll string me along. Why don’t we just make a well-defined, fair deal.
Meanwhile, the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art was looking at the girl who was challenging the moment as she had never before witnessed. She stared fixedly at her. Could it be that she was intrigued?
- My, what a wise girl! – the Fairy Queen of Fame continued.
- No praise, please. Without giving offense, tell me something I can do to free her.
- OK. Let’s do the following. Let’s play through music. If you win, she’ll be free.
The Fairy Queen of Death threatened to speak. But her motto was that one can’t interfere in life’s decisions ruled by free will.
- What will I have to do?
- Since you think you’re so special, you’ll have to sight read whatever score the piano materializes. It will have to touch everyone. You will also have to organise volunteers to help you, ones who don’t want anything for themselves. But if you lose, you’ll be mine for your entire life. You will serve me and no one else.
- I’m not falling for that. If you produce very difficult scores, obviously I won’t succeed.
I promise I won’t take advantage. I won’t do anything beyond what you can or should be able to manage.
- Even so, what if I’ve never studied it?
- Only what you’ve had contact with and like.
- Then you let her go?
- So you accept the deal?
The silence continued the cold quietude of dark times.
- So?
- Alright. But who will guarantee that Hanna will be fine?
- OK. I declare that, from now on, she owes me nothing. You can take her from here. But the others, no!
So screamed the Fairy Queen.
Soon after the decision on Hanna’s liberation was announced, the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art raised her arms and beat one hand against the other. This caused a ball of blue-ish light to be produced, which left the clearing and went into the forest.
Hanna opened her eyes. She smiled tenderly, and, not understanding anything that was happening, didn’t speak a word. Violet continued to hold her. She stroked her hair and face as if, this time, she were the older sister. A loud galloping noise could be heard. Four white horses pulling an ambulance-carriage stopped not so far away. Two nurses got out. They were carrying a stretcher. Hanna was then put onto the stretcher and taken to the vehicle.
Violet just heard one short utterance from one of the nurses.
- Don’t worry, brave girl. She’ll be fine.
Violet got up and stood before the Fairy Queen of Fame’s retinue. Before anything else could happen, the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art approached the Queen of Fame and spoke to her in a language nobody present knew.
♪ ♫ ♪
- You’ve begun again by cheating.
- Not at all. A game’s a game.
- But you didn’t tell her that the young woman called Hanna only owes you one night.
- A bet’s a bet.
- It’s an unfair bet. You didn’t tell her the main thing.
- Look, forget about it. But after all, isn’t the main thing just a small detail?
- Detail? You deliberately failed to tell her that the debt was very small. Just one night. She’ll soon be free anyway.
- And did this stuck-up brat of a pianist ask by any chance? She could have asked. Irritating, smart girl. But she didn’t ask, so that´s that. I didn’t have to explain.
- When it comes to the level of challenge, you weren’t very precise either.
- Look, do me a favour. Since when did my colleague become such a goody-goody? Are you sympathetic, dear?
- You guaranteed that you wouldn’t interfere in my game, but you didn’t exactly explain that it’s the piano that chooses nor did you clarify the process of choosing the music.
- Be quiet. I told the truth, didn’t I?
- What you said was the truth yes. But soon afterwards you led her to think that it was you who set the limits or command the piano.
- Are you going to interfere?
- You know I can’t. But you also know very well that above all else, I’m a slave to justice. In this case, you’ve over-stepped the limits.
- Don’t force me to answer. No interference, I’ve already said.
♪ ♫ ♪
Without understanding anything they said, Violet was waiting in silence and trying, as much as she could, to control her fears, not knowing that the Fairy Queen of Fame was also using the most of her rhetoric to demonstrate, at that moment, confidence in the face of her interlocutor’s coldness.
Seconds of tension followed until the argument between the two fairies ended in a sudden, inferred truce. The Fairy Queen of the Death of Art moved away, floating back to her initial position. The Fairy Queen of Fame turned her gaze once more to Violet.
- So, are you ready?
- Yes.
- I didn’t hear that. Speak louder, please!
- Yes!
- Would anyone here like to take the side of this pretentious one?
The silence was even icier. Only the mist on the grass was moving. Two painful minutes went by until...
- Ok, you’ve lost.
- How’s that? It hasn’t even begun.
- Where’s your volunteer? I don’t see anyone. Does someone here know something I don’t? Did anyone present see or hear a volunteer step forward.
- But you didn’t say one had to be arranged right now.
- Mythology, huh! And you think you know mythology. The myth of Orpheus is nothing compared to what I have in reserve for girls like you. There is no volunteer, so you’ve lost.
- That’s a trick!
- No, foolish child. That’s life!
- But life can be correct. Life can have sense and honour! She
does have a volunteer! And that volunteer is me!
Except for the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art, everyone was surprised. A girl dressed as a ballerina appeared from the white mist that hid almost everything that wasn’t more than forty centimeters from the ground. She leapt and stood next to Violet.
Even more unusual was the fact that the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art seemed to smile, while the Fairy Queen of Fame, having overcome the unexpected, gave them a glowering look.
CHAPTER IX
THE DANCING SCORES GAME
The Fairy Queen of the Death of Art gave a command from the centre of the clearing, with everyone in an intense state of expectation, that made the slowness of time in moments of affliction stop. The amount of mist that covered the grass began to move. First of all, it spread to the edge of the clearing where the trees that demarcated it stood. After that, it drifted past the huge trunks until it reached the crowns.
Then it formed a wall that isolated that environment from the rest of the forest. Although it wasn’t solid, not even a tractor could pass through it. Once the circular wall was ready, something even more surprising happened. The mist continued moving, but now forming a ceiling or huge cover in the form of a dome in a giant planetarium. As the mist extended from all the angles of the circular wall towards the centre, the dimensions of the dome being constructed went far beyond what would be possible to achieve with the most advanced engineering in the Kingdom of the Blue Earth.
When there were just ninety metres left for the whole ceiling to be ready, the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art raised her arms again and gave another magic command. The remaining mist that was finishing the dome or cover altered its density and appearance once again. It became transparent and solid, like the purest crystal or diamond, and gradually turned into a lens with a diameter of ninety metres. It became a lens that could be convex or concave as necessary. It polarised the rays of the five visible Moons on that mysterious, clear and, at the same time, somber night.
Thus, at each moment, diffused or focussed rays – much more intense and impressive than the spotlights of any theatre – fell over the piano or any of those present, highlighting or removing from the scene as if there were a theatre director there commanding the action.
The low-lying mist formed solid ground. They were no longer on grass but rather standing on the biggest stage of life formed in the biggest theatre yet imagined by anyone.
Time continued to stand still, when an impatient shout put the clocks back to work again.
- What’s going on here? Is this going to take much longer? Let’s get going!
After the yelling, cackling laughter came out of the mouth that had made the pronouncement. Even the rats trembled, but they pretended to laugh as well to appear braver than they really were.
The piano trembled and produced a short melody. Violet gulped and noticed that a score had materialised. She recognized it at once. It was the twelve variations Ah, vous dirai-je Maman by the genius of Austrian Classicism, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. This was by no means the most expressive of the genius composer’s works, nor the most difficult to play. But it was an important, beautiful work, commonly studied by young musicians. Mozart composed it specifically for the piano when he was about twenty-five years old, using a French folk song as his base. There are twelve variations on a basic, simple theme, which evolve in complexity and demand great dedication from the student to be able to play the piece reasonably well. Mozart’s twelve variations are an improvisation that will be perpetuated in history and time.
Violet pulled the stool from the piano and sat down. She was shaking inside, but showed nothing.
This was exactly the piece she had been working on with her teacher for three months. When she was alone, she played it fairly well. But just sitting in front of the smallest audience was often enough pressure for her to become completely lost.
- Remember, dear. Only one mistake is allowed.
The Fairy Queen of Fame’s words increased Violet’s anxiety.
-So begin. The world is waiting. Fame is yours!
Violet faltered and then began. Total disaster. In the seventh bar, her right index finger slipped, hitting D sharp instead of E during the execution of the first trill with notes E and D.
- Sorry!
- Hah! Forget sorry. You’ve lost one life. You won’t have another chance to make a mistake. But fame is yours!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wonderful.
- Stefanie stood up and went to Violet’s side. She sat on the floor beside the piano stool. Violet’s expression could no longer disguise the anguish that her soul was feeling.
She wanted to cry, but knew she couldn’t. A hand gave hers a gentle squeeze. She felt warmth and confidence. While holding her friend’s hand, Stefanie remembered her teacher Charles Perl. The greatest male ballet dancer she had ever met and her reference point when the challenges seemed greater than her abilities. He always communicated dignity to her and made her believe in herself. Inspired, she repeated what she had always heard from her teacher.
- There is no mistake that can’t be rectified. The most important things in life are character, character and character. And practice, practice, practice.
- You believe in me so much. Why?
- I have faith in you because up to now you’ve shown me that it really is worth having faith. A lot of faith. Thank you, my friend, for showing me this. You can do it, you’ll succeed.
What she said was so sincere that even the Wolf Heads looked at each other. A cynical smile escaped from the Fairy Queen of Fame’s lips. The rats followed suit. However, the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art remained undaunted.
Violet took a deep breath. She remembered what her father usually said to her:
“There are artists who love themselves more than they love art. This is the great divider.”
She concluded that, if she really loved music more than she loved herself, nothing else mattered. Neither fame nor audience would disturb her.
She concentrated as she had never done before. In her mind now there existed only the piece to be played. Everything around her was nothing. A nothing so empty it was as if nothing existed in the world. There was just her and the piano keys. She and the piano keys were as one. She became truly inspired and allowed herself to be swept away by the melody, just as a ballerina allows herself to be led by the succession of bars in the music and, at the same time, is in charge of herself and her movements.
This time she was accurate. She was brilliant. Anger, love and courage fused together in a performance that was one more catharsis of emotive notes. Many of those present were touched by a strong emotion.
As soon as Violet ended with a smile of victory, Stefanie shed a sparkling tear, which fell to the floor of the theatre.
- Very well, very well. The friend decided to bet on her friend. How lovely! It worked. I see that the girl has done her homework. Yes, we have talent here. It would be so easy to make your career! What a waste studying that Mozart. Such a lot of effort for little fame. This game of ours is also a waste. You could easily choose another path for us. But if that’s the way it has to be, then so be it. Let’s continue!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The piano trembled once again and produced another strange melody, and at the same time another score materialised in front of Violet.
- This doesn’t count! It’s very difficult. You said you wouldn’t cheat.
- But I wasn’t the one who chose. The piano decided what the music should be. That, I can swear to. So, I did not cheat in this way.
- Look at the title of score: Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor. You must be crazy. No, the only possibility is that you are crazy. How am I going to play this? I can’t do it yet.
Violet was absolutely right. It would be impossible for a learner of her level to play one of the last exponents of European classical music. It would be impracticable to play, even less so at first sight, that masterpiece by the virtuoso pianist, composer and Russian maestro called Sergei Vasilievich Rachmanin
off , who, on planet Earth, had been born on April 1st, 1873, and died on March 28th, 1943.
- You like classical music, so go ahead. Don’t you happen to spend all your time here proclaiming the mission of music in the world? What are you complaining about now? A deal is a deal. Honour it or give up!
Violet lifted her right hand and pressed it into her forehead with force. Her right cheek was stretched as her hand descended, accompanying the movement of her arm and freeing her face from that unconscious nervous action.
- But this is an entire concerto! It’s not possible. I heard it once in Sala São Paulo. It’s beautiful, but it’s impossible.
- Ooooh! How tiresome! Do you see? The piano doesn’t choose at random. You know the concerto, you’ve already heard it.
- You must be joking! So that’s how it is? Just because someone has heard it, they have to know it or are obliged it play it correctly? This was not our deal. This is cheating.
- We agreed on what you must have had contact with and like. And not what you have studied or not. If you’re so smart, why don’t you pay more attention when you make deals?
Violet put both hands on her waist and she shook her head from left to right. She was indignant and her body language showed this.
- You’re messing me around. It’s not fair. You really are a big cheat.
- What? You don’ want to see me enraged! Give up or play. Your time has run out and so has my patience.
The Fairy Queen’s tone of voice had become hoarse and deep. Its timbres were distorted and this made ten of the rats in her retinue prepare to advance on Violet.
Stefanie, terrified by the pre-movements of the rats, held one of Violet’s hands. But this time, she did it to offer protection not support. The Wolf Heads remained silent.
- Give me a moment, then, please – said Violet.
Without waiting for a response or looking at the Fairy Queen of Fame, she let go of Stefanie’s hand and settled herself in front of the piano. She began to study the complex, wonderful score. The expression of the friend beside her now was one of the most intense dread.
The Rainbow Bridge and the Shadow of the Serpent: The Rainbow Bridge and the Shadow of the Serpent Page 6
