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.He hesitated about taking Lady Day over to the school, but then decided againstit: the only easy-to-find parking around Lincoln Center was paid parking in garages, since most ofthe students couldn't afford to keep cars in the city, and public transportation made it reallyunnecessary.He'd been in the subway a few times since his arrival, and there was a stop only afew blocks away.That would do for now.The subway station was hot--;the trains were air conditioned to the point of pneumonia, but theplatforms weren't--;but as he passed through the turnstile, Eric was surprised to hear the soundof music echoing off the walls: a busker setting up his pitch to take advantage of the earlymorning commuter traffic.Can't beat the acoustics, Eric thought, looking around for the source of the music.He saw a tall,regal young woman, her hair dyed a surreal cherry-black, playing an electric violin.Its silverysurface gleamed with rainbow iridescence in the florescent lighting of the platform.Her case wasopen at her feet, and there was already a tidy accumulation of coins and bills--;even a few subwaytokens.He caught her eye and grinned, giving her a thumbs up.She smiled back and nodded withoutmissing a beat: he recognized Copeland's Variations on a Theme from Appalachian Spring.For a moment Eric thought about joining her for a little impromptu jam session, but decidedagainst it: he'd heard that street musicians had to have a license to perform in New York, andthat was something he hadn't gotten around to finding out about just yet.He dug in his pocket andtossed a handful of change into her fiddle-case.With the practice of long experience, theviolinist brought her music to an end just as the train pulled into the station and herappreciative audience began moving toward the open doors.Eric joined them.In a few short stops he reached his destination: Lincoln Center.The Center was essentially theJuilliard campus: the school itself was a tall building tucked off in a corner behind LincolnCenter.Though when evening came this would be one of the busiest parts of the city, there werefew people in the plaza at this hour of the morning.Familiar with the layout from previousvisits, Eric found his way to his classroom without difficulty.* * *The halls were filled with students, some new, some returning.Juilliard wasn't "just" a musicschool.It offered programs in Drama and Dance as well.The dancers were easy to spot, most ofthem already in leotards and soft shoes from early-morning practice, with their dance-bags slungover one shoulder.A number of the other students were carrying--;or towing--;instrument cases.He found the auditorium without difficulty.There were several of his fellow students waitingaround outside.One of them--;a short blond kid who looked like he should still be in gradeschool, waved."Hi.You must be `Pappy' Banyon." He grinned, relishing the joke."I'm Jeremy Mitchell.Oboe.Youknow what they say about double-reed players.""Hi," Eric said, holding out his free hand."Pleased to meet you.Back whendinosaurs ruled the earth, they always used to say the pressure on the brain'd drive you crazy.Glad to hear it's still true.""Some things never change," Jeremy agreed happily."I'm a musical prodigy--;but then, hey, aren'twe all? This is Lydia," he added, pulling a redheaded girl forward."Lydia Ashborn, meet thelegendary Eric Banyon.""Hi," Lydia said, blushing heavily.If he hadn't met her here, Eric would have been sure she wasone of the drama students.She had the looks for it--;flaming red hair, ivory skin, and the mostamazing eyes Eric had seen outside of Underhill, a deep violet color."With Banyon here, Rector won't have any time to pick on you," Jeremy promised her."He's supposedto be a real monster--;likes to keep his students from getting too stuck on themselves, from whatI hear.""I know the type," Eric said."Ashborn.Isn't--;""Yeah," Lydia said too quickly, looking even more uncomfortable than before.Marco Ashborn was a world-class violinist, and Lydia was obviously his daughter.And equally obviously would rather be anywhere but here."But it isn't your fault," Jeremy said."Nobody's going to hold it against you.We won't, anyway.Right, Banyon?""Right," Eric said, because it seemed to be expected of him.For all his upstart sassiness, Jeremyseemed to be fond of Lydia and doing his best to put her at ease.It couldn't be easy coming hereas the child of a star of the music world.Talk about performance pressure.file:///G|/rah/Mercedes%20Lackey/Lackey,%20M.%20Rosemary%20-%20Beyond%20World's%20End.txt (20 of 124) [2/2/2004 1:21:13 AM]file:///G|/rah/Mercedes%20Lackey/Lackey,%20Mercedes%20&%20Edghill,%20Rosemary%20-%20Beyond%20World's%20End.txtAt least that was one thing I never had to face: parents who were expecting me to follow in theirgolden footsteps.Just then the bell rang."Time to face the lions," Jeremy said cryptically."C'mon.Let's sit together
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