City of Lost Dreams

FORTY-THREE

Sarah opened her eyes. She was standing with Pollina in the Star Summer Palace. Elizabeth Weston was once again a cloaked corpse in the corner. Max and Nico had stopped playing the armonica. They appeared to be frozen. Sarah looked down. The sands of the hourglass were sinking into the stone floor.

“I think we have a few minutes,” Pollina said. “If you want to talk.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m not going to start shouting ‘I am going to live! Live, I tell you!’” Pols snorted. “But I’m hungry.”

“Did that all just really happen?”

“I think so.”

“That was nice of you,” said Sarah. “To give Mozart The Magic Flute.”

“I borrow from him all the time,” said Pols. “It seemed fair.” She waved a hand toward where Elizabeth lay. “I’m not sorry she’s dead. But I will pray for her.”

“I suppose the security guard will wake up in a few hours and think she broke in and killed herself. Which she did. I’m glad Nico’s still here, though.”

“I think it will change things for him.” Pols smiled. “Having the choice to live or not. It’s very powerful.”

“Also, he has an immortal friend now,” said Sarah. “Wait till you meet Hermes.”

“If Nico sticks around,” Pols said grandly, “I shall dedicate my opera to him.”

“You might want to include Max in the dedication. He’ll probably be the one paying for it.”

“Max will be disappointed we didn’t find the Fleece,” said Pollina.

Sarah thought of the fifth door. She knew what was behind it. And why Philippine had made Ferdinand put it there. “Maybe not.”

“Maybe not,” agreed Pollina.

“I think I’m going to switch career paths. Something happened to me, too, back with Mesmer. I saw myself . . . I saw what I could be. I’ll have to go back to school.”

“You’re not thinking of becoming a doctor like Mesmer, are you?” Pols frowned. “Your nose is too sensitive. You’d spend half the time puking.”

“Not a doctor,” Sarah promised. “Music, of course.”

“Music? Play professionally, you mean?” Pols smiled. “I can tell you right now that you understand music better than anyone else I know but you are only a very fine violinist and a really good pianist. There are better out there. Maybe you could get work in a decent orchestra. I might be able to find you a job.”

“Not play professionally exactly.”

“Let’s have it.”

“You know what I mean. You’re just teasing me.”

“I want,” Pols said, “to hear you say it.”

“There really,” Sarah said, feeling almost shy, “aren’t enough women conductors. Of orchestras, I mean.”

“Well, I assumed you didn’t mean trains.”

“Is it in my stars, do you think?”

The last of the sand slipped away into the stone floor and Max and Nico turned, blinking, to where Sarah and Pollina stood.

“Yes,” whispered Pols. “Brava, Sarah. Brava.”