CHAPTER 20February 23
Friday, morning
Frank gradually became aware of a great drum beating louder and louder, making him more aware of something physically real: the bed he was lying on, distant windows, a table, chairs, a vase of flowers and, above, a glassy reflection of himself sprawled grotesquely on a velvet bedspread. He rose on his elbows and looked around. The drumming had slowed to a steady pain in the center of his head and seemed to dissolve parts of his brain every time he moved. He managed to move to the side of the bed and sit, putting his feet unsteadily on the floor.
Thick carpet sprang up around his shoes. Gold flashed from all parts of the room. The chairs were from the fifteenth century Italian Renaissance and gilt like the picture frames. A pair of rose medallion Chi
