‘But we know of no way to halt the progress of the Accidie once it manifests itself,’ he said. ‘I’m a doctor, Jolaine, au fait with the most recent discoveries in medical science. Why do I feel so helpless?’

Azare came into the salon carrying an elongated wooden case which he set down with extreme care. Cramoisy followed him, carelessly casting his new viridian jacket down on the couch, peeling off his kid gloves, finger by finger. But Khassian’s sensitive ears had caught a slight vibration of sound as Azare put the case down, the tremor of tuned strings.

‘What is that?‘he demanded.

‘What does it look like?’ Cramoisy was critically examining his appearance in the mirror.

Azare knelt down and unlocked the case, opening the lid to reveal the ivory keyboard of a portable clavichord.

‘They call it an epinette here – isn’t that quaint?’

The hollow tap of the protruding bones on ivory –

Khassian stared at the epinette with loathing.

‘You said we have no more money. Why this extravagance?’

‘How am I to rehearse my recital if Azare has no instrument? What is he supposed to do? Hum the accompaniments? And if there is no recital, how shall I make money for us to pay the bills?’

Could Cramoisy not see how it exacerbated his feelings of uselessness, to have to hear Azare play the instrument at which Khassian had excelled…

Azare screwed the three legs into the case, stood it up and ran his fingers over the keys, setting up a sweet jangle. Khassian winced.

‘Needs tuning,’ Azare said, misinterpreting his reaction. Taking out a tuning key, he leaned over the case and started to tighten the tuning-pins securing the strings.

‘For Mhir’s sake!’ Khassian flung himself out of the chair and went over to the door. Only as he reached it did he realise that it was firmly shut and he would have to attempt an undignified struggle with the handle – or wait for Cramoisy to let him out like an unruly lap-dog.

Orial slipped the gold-edged invitation from her apron pocket and gazed at it again. Her fingers smoothed the fine ivory card, traced the elegant black copperplate print:

A Vocal Recital of Divers Songs and Arias, including a selection from the new opera Elesstar by Amaru Khassian.

To be given by the incomparable Diva, Cramoisy Jordelayne, accompanied at the epinette by Oriste Azare.

The recital will take place at eight in the evening on the fifteenth day of Afril in the concert room of the Assembly Rooms in the presence of His Worship the Mayor of Sulien.

She pressed the card to her heart. A concert. A real concert – and she had been especially invited. The only problem was that Papa would never let her go.

Well, she would ask him nevertheless. And if he refused, she would go anyway. She was old enough to know her own mind.