Blood, Sweat, and Kreutzer

Chapter Seven - Cassandra

Cassandra's first night in Skandia, she makes a solemn oath to herself never to complain about being too hot in the Araluen summers.

She's never been so cold in her entire life. Yes, she's used to the cold and the snow at home around Christmas, and the chill of fog and rain throughout the year...but it's nothing compared to Skandia. Here, in the frigid north, the cold is almost concentrated, an ice-cold knife blade to the lungs and crystallized sandpaper on any exposed skin.

Sadly, being inside isn't that much better than outside. Since she arrived so late, the only open bed in the female dormitory was the one all the way on the far side of the long room...furthest from the fireplace next to the door, even though the coals are banked for the night and glow only dimly. Cassandra huddles in a ball beneath the fur-lined coverlet that smells faintly of sea salt and, less pleasantly, of rank seal blubber, and tries to conserve body warmth to distract herself from being homesick.

It's a novel experience, being homesick. She's never felt it before. Even though she's lived in the dorms at the Conservatory for the majority of each of the past two and a half years, she's never felt any longing for the mansion less than ten minutes away - huge and full of servants and empty of her mostly-absent father.

Yes, she misses her dad. But she's always been used to missing him. Ever since she was a little girl, he would work long, late nights and travel on business trips over the weekend. Being the mayor of Araluen City has its burdens, and many of them.

It's the Conservatory she misses more than anything else, she realizes. To her, that's more home than anything else. It's where she's found her place and feels the most herself - where she has learned and grown in leaps and bounds at what she's brilliant at.

With all her might, she imagines that she's back in her bed in Poplar, with Madelydd, her roommate, resting peacefully in her bed on the other side of the room, her soft breathing a comforting hush against the occasional rumble of a distant car driving down the street outside.

With her sheets finally absorbing and holding some of her body heat, Cassandra finally drifts off to sleep.

~

The Skandians, Cassandra discovers, are believers in many things - ancient gods with rough-sounding names being one of them, and very early mornings another.

Greta wakes the entire dormitory at the crack of dawn by ringing a small but very annoying bell until every single girl in the room has stumbled out of bed to stand, blinking sleepily, at the severe-looking Skandian woman standing by the fireplace.

When she is certain she has the attention of everyone, Greta announces dourly, "Breakfast will be served in half an hour in the room down the hallway. The washroom is right outside this room. The first events of the Junior International Competition will begin after breakfast."

With that, Greta sniffs and stalks out of the room.

Immediately, there is a scramble of girls pulling out their suitcases to get their toiletries and clothes and, within minutes, there is a lengthy line for the washroom - the end of which, of course, is Cassandra.

By the time she's finally changed into her warmest sweater and dress pants, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and pulled her hair back into a quick braid, breakfast has already started. Cassandra barely has time to bolt down a piece of toast and a scoop of scrambled eggs before Greta has reappared to escort the female contestants to the opening ceremonies of the Junior International Competition.

Cassandra follows the others down the haoo, mourning the loss of the bacon she didn't have time to eat. She glances around at the other girls. No one is talking - which makes sense, she supposes, since they're all from different countries and competing against each other for the world title in each of their respective divisions. She side-eyes another girl with a shiny black violin case against her back. The girl gives her a cool nod, and faces the front again, assuming a bored expression. Cassandra pulls her own case straps just a little tighter over her shoulders.

Greta delivers them to the small concert hall, where the male contestants have already taken their seats. Teachers and other adults mill around, their voices a low hum. Cassandra scans the hall, searching for one familiar face, and finally sees Will sitting by himself halfway down the room. The lights dim and the room begins to quiet as she pushes through the crowd, hurrying down the aisle, and the stage lights blink in just as she slips into the seat next to Will.

The small hall breaks into applause as several adults stride onstage. The first in line, a thick, burly Skandian man with an impressive horned helmet (Cassandra supposes it's to show his pride in his culture, although she's not sure what the horns have to do with anything) steps up to the microphone center stage.

"Good morning, and welcome to Hallasholm for this year's final round of the Junior International Competition!" he booms. "My name is Ragnak Oberjarl, and I am the artistic director of the National Skandian Academy of Music here at the Hallasholm Center for the Arts. And by Gorlog's beard, it is my pleasure both to welcome you to our beautiful icy land, and to introduce you to our esteemed adjudicators for the next week."

Cassandra leans forward in excitement as Mr. Oberjarl introduces the strings judge. "And from the distant steps of Temujai, our adjudicator for the strings division...Ms. Fan Chen."

"She's incredible," Cassandra whispers to Will. "One of the widest and most far-reaching performing careers ever. I can't believe I get to play for her!"

"She looks kind of scary," Will whispers back.

Cassandra has to concede the point. Fan Chen is a beautiful middle-aged Asian woman, immaculately dressed, and she is decidedly intimidating - she carries herself in a way that screams I'm one of the best in the world and I most definitely know it.

"Yeah," Cassandra whispers back. "But she's absolutely brilliant!"

But Will is no longer paying attention, because Mr. Oberjarl is now introducing the last judge - the pianist.

"And finally, last but not least, our adjudicator for the piano division...Mr. Gung Kong."

"His was one of the recordings of the Rachmaninoff piano concertos I ever heard," Will whispers. "He's a god of the piano."

Cassandra shakes his head. "We're here, Will...we're really here, and we're going to do this!"

Mr. Oberjarl, having finished introducing the judges, turns to the audience once more. "And without further ado, let the finals of the Junior International Competition begin! Our first event is our first daily masterclass. Every day, each judge will conduct a masterclass for each competition area, featuring each of the contestants in turns."

As the judges vacate the stage and the competition officials begin gathering the contestants for the masterclasses, Cassandra turns to Will, her eyes shining. "Here we go," she murmurs, before she's swept away with the other strings students.