“I don’t know what to do. She keeps time, but then she doesn’t. Her intonation is fine, and then it isn’t. And she still hasn’t decided how she wishes to hold her bow. She has the sound. But there’s no foundation.
“She lacks a proper repertoire. Other than Schradieck and some other pieces that she picked up at a used bookstore, she knows only gaming music and anime soundtracks. She says she learned over YouTube. YouTube?”
Suddenly, Shizuka stopped and pointed.
“Lan, your phone isn’t glowing.”
“Oh? Well, the scrambler drains power, so I shut it down after it was needed.”
“After it was needed?”
Quickly, Shizuka glanced at the other customers. A table of well-dressed high school kids conspicuously turned away to look down at their noodles. And a couple of them had instrument cases.
Crap. She hadn’t seen them enter. And now they had heard her discuss Katrina. Of course, Shizuka had no intention of keeping her student a secret, but she preferred to control how information got out, and when. Any student of hers would be an instant target, and Katrina, especially, was not ready for that type of scrutiny.
Lan fumbled with the phone, and the blue light returned.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had stopped scrambling us?” Shizuka hissed.
“I’m sorry,” Lan said hastily.
“I suppose that this must seem like rambling to you,” Shizuka said lightly.
To be honest, this talk did sound trivial. Lan was fleeing a Galactic Empire falling to the Endplague—and Shizuka was worrying about sounds made with a wooden box? Still, she had such a beautiful voice …
“Yes, but it’s okay?” Lan ventured.
“Well then,” Shizuka said curtly. “I won’t waste any more of your time.”
Shizuka grabbed her purse and coat.
“Shizuka, wait!”
“Why? I’m sure that you have less trivial things to think about.”
How was Lan supposed to answer this?
Luckily, Captain Tran was saved by an incoming plate of stir-fried kidneys. The server brought them to the table, smiled pleasantly at both of them, and left.
Slowly, Shizuka released her purse and put her coat down. It wasn’t the restaurant’s fault, and besides, she would rather not cause more of a scene. Furthermore, as frustrated as she was, the kidneys did smell amazing.
“Oh, these look wonderful, shall I get you one?” Lan said, and hastily grabbed one with her chopsticks.
“I can get my own, thank you.”
Lan froze. There was nothing remotely sweet about that voice.
Shizuka grabbed one herself and took a bite. The texture was crunchy, then soft. And with a little chopped leek, a little ground ginger, some chili, the flavor was delicious.
They ate in silence, with Shizuka fuming and Lan too petrified to say anything else.
“Well,” Shizuka finally said. “Forget Cantonese. Do you know anything about YouTube and Wi-Fi and the Internet?”
“Ah, your planet’s information system. It’s very impressive, actually. But … Shizuka, you know of advanced civilizations and stargates and holographic projections. How can you not know about your own Internet?”
Shizuka glared.
“No, no! I don’t mean to imply anything. I was just curious. Curious, that’s all.”
“Star Trek was on television. We didn’t need the Internet for that. And I know about the Internet. But why would a violin teacher like me need the Internet? Isn’t my life all about sounds made with a wooden box?”
Lan almost choked on her kidney.
“W-well, you’re going to need Internet access now. So first, hardware. How old is your laptop?”
“Laptop? So I need a laptop?”
Lan sighed, then asked the server for another pot of tea.
* * *
Lucy Matía examined the violin’s fingerboard. The ebony was of decent quality. And even better, it already showed signs of wear.
Fingerboard wear can reveal the progression of a student as they move from first position, to third, then to fifth, then back to second. One can learn the disposition of individual players, as well. Were they sloppy? Lazy? How much tension did they keep in their hands?
This student was puzzling. Her intonation was excellent; there were no signs of hesitation, sliding, or stretching into place. This was the almost mindless confidence of a prodigy. Shizuka Satomi was right. Despite her appearances, this student possessed an undeniable brilliance.
Which made the wear on her fingerboard quite odd.
With prodigies, signs of argument appear almost immediately. Strong wings are usually impatient to take off and explore. It was part of being brilliant and daring and free.