Prelude to a Crystal Song

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Killashandra listened, the words like cold bombs dropping with leaden fatality into her frozen guts. She stared at the Maestro’s famous profile as his lips opened and shut around the words that meant the death of all her hopes and ambitions, and rendered wasted ten years of hard work and study.

The Maestro finally turned to face her. The genuine regret in his expressive eyes made him look older as the heavy singer’s muscles in his jaw relaxed sorrowfully into jowls.

One day Killashandra might remember those details. Now she was too crushed by this overwhelming defeat to be aware of more than her terrible personal failure.

‘But... but... how could you?’

‘How could I what?’ the Maestro asked in surprise.

‘How could you lead me on?’

‘Lead you on? But, my dear girl, I didn’t.’

‘You did! You said ... you said all I needed was hard work and haven’t I worked hard?’

‘Of course you have worked hard.’ Valdi was affronted. ‘My students must apply themselves. It takes years of hard work to develop the voice, to learn a repertoire of even a segment of the outworld music that must be performed ...’

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