Chapter XVI
We Walked Upon Harp Strings
With nimble gelware fingers, Ellenancy removed an errant blonde hair from the lapel of her beige silk suit and pointed the follicle at the oval room’s picture window. “How many people died in the fire last night?”
Beyond the glass, funereal smoke tainted the sky.
“Three hundred and twenty-one are presumed dead,” said Lisanne.
The re-bodied woman dropped the hair. As it fell, she dexterously plucked a melancholic melody from the lute in her lap, a phrase that was an excerpt from a piece entitled “The Line That Defines the Boundary Between Compromise and Defeat.”
“That was well-played.”
“Danke. I will be able to play the entire piece correctly on Saturday.”
“I agree.”
During the last two weeks, the twins had spent nearly every waking moment r
