A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. He had been baptized there. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her.
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