I came around to a resounding headache and a mouthful of foliage. In a surreal moment the rose in my mouth changed from red, to white, to black, attempting to match itself to my mood: it settled on storm-grey; I agreed with its choice.
I felt the heat at my back before my ears remembered how to work to an accompanying roar of flames. One glance over my shoulder told the tale. There was no point looking for survivors, there wouldn"t have been any. The palace was no more, blown apart. It looked like God had enclosed the building in a gigantic globe, given it a fierce shake, then tipped the bits out in the exact same spot. There wasn"t a speck of paint out of place beyond the outer structure"s confines even the awful bruise of a walkway carpet was half intact. But followed back, one"s eyes p
