A/N: All right, this was started on a whim, so I don't even know if it will get any farther than this. I don't have any idea where I'm going with this either, and I am definitely not familiar with the Stravaganza canon as I am with Harry Potter, my main fandom. I don't even own any of the books, though I do have City of Flowers from the library, and it was right next to me as I wrote this chapter. I also did my best to get the facts right by going to the website and visiting the forums linked to from the site. In any case, I do love the books, and I was glad to see that there was a new category specifically for the series.
Those of you keeping up with my HP fics... heh. Sorry if you got an author alert for a fic in another fandom. To Dwell on Dreams should hopefully be updated soon.
Er... what else? Well, this particular fic takes place in Volana, the City of Music. It has been nearly two years (Talia) since the events in City of Flowers, and about twenty years in the world of Georgia, Sky, and Nick. The new Stravagante is named Christopher, a thirteen year old Year Nine student. I should tell you that I paired Luciano and Arianna togther, but also Georgia and Nick. Sky is living the glamorous bachelor-life. The latter three are all in their late thirties anyway, so the two years age difference between Georgia and Nick hardly matters anymore.
So, I suppose that's it. Also, this fic is in American English, because words like "sceptical" instead of "skeptical" will never look right to me. Heh. Oh, and I don't speak a word of Italian. The Italian in here is all a mixture of free online translators and my knowledge of Spanish. So there isn't much of it at all, unless if I am nearly sure it is correct.
Disclaimer: Stravaganza and all related concepts are the property of Mary Hoffman and Bloomsbury. No copyright infringement is intended. In a nutshell: please do not sue me, because I have all of forty dollars, and that was from my birthday. So unless if I can get an uber-cheap lawyer and the suit is filed for only thirty dollars or something, you probably won't get anything anyway.
Please review!
Lucrezia Abbiati slowly wiped off the wooden surface, the sun disappearing behind the hills. Tomorrow, Grand Duke Fabrizio of the di Chimici family would be arriving in Volana to visit his cousin Alfonso. With him would be his wife, Caterina, coming home for the first time since her marriage nearly two years before, his only living brother, Gaetano, his sister, Beatrice, and his sisters-in-law, Francesca and the widowed Lucia.
It had been Alfonso's idea. For the Duchessa of Bellezza and her consort would also be coming. Fabrizio had held a grudge against the Duke of Bellezza ever since the death of his father, and Alfonso believed it was time for the two men to put aside that particular difference and go back to at least the icy tenseness of before, rather than this open hostility.
As the daughter of the court musician, Lucrezia knew that Alfonso himself was having doubts about this idea, but it was too late. Volana would have to host these two foes, a fact that Alfonso's wife, Bianca, was quick to criticize. Sighing, Lucrezia finished cleaning the clavichord. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the block of resin that had been sitting in it.
Rodolfo had told her it was time. And Lucrezia was not going to put it off any longer.
"You're a little flat," said Vicky after a long pause. "But otherwise, very good. I think you're ready to start the third movement." She took the violin from her student and began to turn the pegs a little.
"Really?" Christopher was excited. He'd been working on the second movement for what seemed like years, and he absolutely hated slow songs. He turned to the third movement of Antonio Vivaldi's Summer Concerto, anxious to begin it. He knew his grandmother would begin commenting from his very first note, but he didn't care; it was something new, and even better, it was faster.
"Really. But next time, Chris; it looks like Sky is here."
"But Gran…" Chris felt disappointed. But then again, it was Sky waiting outside, with his black Porsche and cool appearance. Sky was Chris's favorite out of all his parents' friends. His name was a little weird, but that was what you got if your dad was named Rainbow Warrior, after all.
"Tell your dad or mum to get you some more resin, by the way," reminded Vicky. "I asked you to three weeks ago, and your supply's almost out. Any longer and I'll get it myself and leave you to your dad's wrath." She grinned teasingly at her grandson.
"All right," said Chris, scowling. "I'll ask Dad. See you, Gran."
"Bye, love." Vicky kissed Chris on the cheek and shoved him playfully out the door. Chris hitched his violin case so that the strap was securely on his shoulder, and then made his way toward Sky.
"Hey, mate," Sky greeted, taking the case and stowing it in the backseat. "Your mum and dad couldn't get away from work, so it was Sky to the rescue. Disappointed much, Chris?"
"Not at all," said Chris, grinning. "You're cooler than they are. Dad should be living in the sixteenth century or something, with all the fencing he does…"
A curious expression crossed Sky's face, but it disappeared quickly enough for Chris to think that it was just an involuntary facial spasm or something. "And your mum?" asked Sky, the easy expression coming back. "Why isn't she cool?"
Chris thought for a moment. "She doesn't drive a Porsche," he said finally.
"Good answer. All right, let's go," said Sky, leaping into the car. Chris followed, and then remembered his grandmother's words.
"Sky, d'you think we can stop at the music shop? I keep on forgetting to get resin, and I've got enough pocket money right now to buy it…"
"Of course." Sky reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, which he perched on his nose. "So… how was the lesson?"
"Brilliant." Chris beamed. "Gran's letting me go onto the third movement next time." Sky nodded. The thing about Sky, Chris mused, was that he could have no idea what was being talked about, yet he could still manage to look attentive. It was too bad he was almost never around; Sky loved to travel, and his visits were always unannounced and erratic. Chris's parents, while loving, never seemed to have enough time to pay attention to their son.
Sky also made Chris feel cooler than he was. At school, the other boys made fun of Chris, who was short and skinny, even more so than most of the girls. He wasn't a very exciting person, either. All he had was his violin, which he had started playing at the age of four, and that wasn't exactly the coolest thing around.
"We're here," said Sky, pulling into a parking space outside the tiny shop. "You need me to go in there with you?"
"No, it's fine." Chris got out of the car and entered the shop.
It was cramped and dusty as always. No one was behind the counter, so Chris decided to wander around, peering at the violins lying on their shelves. "May I help you?" Chris started and turned around.
The shopkeeper was right behind him. Chris hadn't heard him coming, but he said, "Yeah… do you have any resin?"
The man snorted. "Of course we do," he said, as if the idea that he didn't have resin in the shop was laughable. "All sorts. What price range?"
"Oh… I dunno… I have ten pounds," said Chris, hoping he wouldn't have to spend all of it. "Do you have something really inexpensive?"
"As a matter of fact… this just came in this morning. I suppose it's a sample, but there was no attached order form, so I think the company might have forgot it." He chuckled. "The price is exceptionally low… I'm wondering if they made a mistake, but since I didn't pay one bit for it…"
He handed over a small green packet made of velvet. There was a small golden line drawing on the flap, a music note surrounded by a tiny banner reading "Il Conservatorio di Volana." Chris opened the packet and pulled out a wrapped up piece of resin, flawlessly amber-colored and undamaged. It was strange that this resin was so perfect and yet so cheap, yet something in Chris told him to grab the opportunity and buy the thing.
"I'll take it, sir," he said.
"Excellent." The man led him to the counter, where Chris paid him. "Have a nice day, young man." Chris nodded and stowed the resin in his pocket, hurrying back out into the sunlight.
"I had to sack Shore today," groaned Nicholas, glaring at the table. "I hate sacking people…"
"It's got to be done, though," said Georgia soothingly. "Chris, eat your potatoes."
Chris shoveled the potatoes into his mouth, and then scowled. "I hate potatoes." He stabbed his peas rather viciously, causing his mother to sigh impatiently. "Why's dad a manager if he hates sacking people?" he added rudely. "Besides, I'd rather sack people than go to school."
"Because, Chris," said Nicholas almost sarcastically, "we can't all be what we want to be. You should be glad you're still in school."
"Yeah, right." Chris stabbed his peas again, causing them to spill onto the floor.
"Christopher Duke, you will eat your food, not play with it!" Georgia looked furious.
Chris ate the peas, but afterwards, he said scathingly, "Sky wouldn't make me eat these stupid peas. He'd let me have what I wanted."
"That's it," Georgia snapped, clearly on a short fuse. "Bed, Chris. Now."
Her son glared at her, stood up, and stormed upstairs. He threw himself onto his bed and pulled the resin from his pocket, studying it. "Il" meant "the," and he supposed "conservatorio" meant "conservatory." But where was Volana, if Volana was indeed a place? He heaved a sigh and went back to fuming silently at his parents before falling asleep with the resin still in his hand.