The orchestra plays well, and Figaro delivers his lines in a pleasing bass. Even so, the minutes pass slowly. Stricklend wants to wait for the story to be sufficiently underway that the audience will be giving it the greater part of their attention. If he waits too long, however, the call of the interval glass of champagne or light supper course will have them restless and looking about them, which would not suit his purposes. At what he decides is the perfect moment, Stricklend picks up his opera glasses and holds them to his eyes. They are his own, a pair he bought in Vienna some years ago, fashioned from pale silver, finely crafted, set in ivory, and with a silk cord attached so that they might be comfortably worn about the neck when not in use. Through the superior lenses, he can make out the youthful flush of Susanna’s throat, and the thickly applied kohl around her lover’s eyes. Opera singers, in his opinion, are best viewed from higher up and farther back. Slowly he moves the glasses and refocuses them on the figure sitting at the front of a private box to the right of the stage. He has an uninterrupted view of this particular box, which is why he selected his particular seat. The man framed in the ellipses of his glasses is evidently enjoying himself. He holds a large glass of red wine in one hand, and a sizeable cigar in the other. His eyes are unnaturally bright, suggesting his evening revelries began some time earlier, and that here is a man accustomed to partaking of the good things that life has to offer. His companions for the evening Stricklend recognizes as his wife, his brother and family, and one or two minor aristocrats whom he has presumably brought along to impress with the lavish way he entertains them and the erudition of his taste in music. Their expressions imply that good wine has gone some way to ensuring they will speak favorably of the evening, nevertheless. Stricklend wonders if they would be seen out with him if they knew him to be a practicing necromancer and a member of the Lazarus Coven. A senior witch, held in high esteem by his fellows. And a staunch supporter of the Montgomery household. It is this last fact that, to Stricklend’s mind, renders him an unacceptable obstacle. One that must simply be removed, lest he stand in the way of what the Sentinels’ desire. What Stricklend himself desires, above all else.