The Serpent Mage Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn't expect to get this far. I'm a connoisseur of film music, particularly from the thirties and forties. I must tell you that doesn't sit well with some of the music faculty here — in Los Angeles, of all places! Can we get together and talk? And if you find anything — you know, the score, a recording, anything — could you let me know… first? Unless someone else has priority, of course… I hope not."
    "No one else has priority," Michael said. "Where shall we meet?"
    "I could hardly ask to visit the house. I assume it's not all organized yet."
    Michael made a quick decision. "Frankly, I'm over my head," he said. "I could use help. Why don't I meet you near the campus, and we'll talk about having UCLA lend a hand?"
    "Wonderful," she said, and they set a time and place for lunch in Westwood the next day.
    Over my head, indeed , Michael thought as he hung up.
    Kristine Pendeers was twenty-two, tall and slender with a dancer's build, and fine fair hair. Her eyes were green and eloquent, slightly hooded, one eyelid riding higher than the other as if in query. Her lower lip was full, her upper delicate; she seemed to be half-smiling most of the time. She wore jeans and a mauve silk blouse.
    After less than fifteen minutes in her presence, Michael was already fascinated by her. His infatuations always came fast and died hard — the true sign of an immature romantic, he warned himself silently. But warnings seldom did any good.
    They had chosen the Good Earth restaurant. She sat across from him in a double booth. A broad back-lit plastic transparency of a maple tree canopy hovered over them; since they were below street level, the effect was not convincing. Kris-tine had crossed her arms on the table, as if protecting the cup of coffee between them.
    "My major problem is that I don't know much about music," Michael said. "I enjoy it, but I don't play any instruments."
    She seemed surprised. "How did you get the position, then?"
    "I knew Arno Waltiri before he died. We became friends.'
    "What did he plan to have you do with the estate?" Her eyes gave her the appearance of being nonchalant and interested all at once.
    "To get it organized and take care of things as they came up, I suppose," Michael said. "It's not really spelled out. We had a sort of understanding…" Having said that, he wasn't sure how true it was. But he couldn't say, I'm being set up for something bigger …
    "Did he ever talk to you about Opus 45?"
    The waitress interrupted with their lunch, and they leaned back to let her serve it.
    "Yes," Michael said. He gave her a brief outline as they ate, explaining about Waltiri's collaboration with Clarkham — to a point — and the circumstances after the performance.
    "That's fascinating," she said. "Now I see why the music is legendary. Do you think the score still exists? I mean, would he have… burned it, or hidden it away where no one would find it?"
    Michael shook his head, chewing on a bite of fish. "I'll keep looking," he said.
    "You know, this project I'm working on… it really goes beyond what I told you on the phone." She hadn't eaten much of her omelet. She seemed more inclined to talk than lunch. "We're — actually, it's mostly me. I'm trying to put film score composers back in their proper place in music. Many of them were as talented as anyone writing music today… more so, I think. But their so-called limitations, working in a popular medium, for mass audiences…" She shook her head slowly. "Music people are snobs. Not musicians — necessarily — but critics. I love movie scores. They don't seem to think — the critics and some of the academics, I mean — they don't seem to understand that music for movies, and not just musicals, shares some of the problems of scoring operas. I mean, it's such an inspired idea, full scoring for a dramatic performance." She grinned. "I'll ride that particular railroad any time you let me."
    Michael nodded. "I love movie scores, too," he said.
    "Of course