As everyone hollered, an unfamiliar voice addressed the crowd. “Isn"t this a funeral? Why aren"t you behaving like rational mourners intent on letting a man"s spirit pass through this world?”
I turned in the voice"s direction, whispering to Nana D, “What"s she doing here?”
Madam Zenya promenaded across the courtyard in a flowing gold and black gown, the ribbon tails of her dress trailing like comets across a great big blue sky. Covered from head to toe in shiny satin, her triumphant entrance exceeded all expectations of grandeur. A robust headdress gallantly rested on broad shoulders, ensuring we saw nothing of her actual face or body—just the extravagant costume. The woman was as much of a spectacle as they"d warned me about, igniting my curiosity beyond belief.
“I apologize for interr
