Still Life by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Still Life

Page 30

armor suits arranged like a tribunal of forgotten duels. One breastplate bore a dent the size of a grapefruit. Finn tapped it gently. "Someone lost a bet," he said.

The castle's layout was deliberately unhelpful. Corridors forked without warning, doors led to alcoves that led to more doors, and every room seemed to have a secret exit disguised as a bookshelf or tapestry. Susie found a map in a brass frame, but it was annotated in Dutch and Latin, with arrows that pointed in contradictory directions. "This place was designed to be misremembered," she said, half admiring.

Eventually, they stumbled into the Great Hall. It was cavernous, with a ceiling so high it seemed to belong to another building entirely. Long tables stretched across the room, set with pewter goblets and plates that looked ceremonial rather than edible. A few tourists wandered through, speaking in hushed tones, as if the room demanded reverence. At the far end, a small bar had been tucked into a corner; modern, apologetic, and slightly embarrassed to be there.

Finn ordered a dark beer with a name he couldn't pronounce. Susie asked for sparkling water and received a glass that looked like it had been borrowed from a chemistry lab. They sat at a side table beneath a tapestry depicting a hunt; stags, hounds,