The Infinity Concerto Read Online Free PDF Page A

the space, chairs upended neatly on the table edges. Beyond the tables, the carpet gave way to wooden parquet flooring. The room could have held a respectable-size ball, and stretched to the front of the house, where tall arched windows afforded a view of the rising sun. Morning light smeared silvery-gray across the table tops.

    The room smelled of dust and a rather bitter tang of flowers. He looked to both sides and decided to try the broad door on the right.

    That took him into an equally decrepit and impressive foyer, with modem-looking overstuffed couches spaced along the walls beneath more tall arched windows. A demolished grand piano cluttered a small stage like a crushed beetle. At the opposite end of the foyer was an immense staircase, transplanted from a castle or luxury liner, with gold banisters mounted on turned pillars of black wood. He looked up. A balustrade ran from the staircase across the length of an upper landing.

    "Ne there! Hoy ac!"

    The largest woman he had ever seen leaned over the stone and metal railing of the balustrade, directly above him. She pulled back. The creak of the floor allowed him to trace her footsteps as she approached the stairs. Through the rails her shapeless body appeared to bulk in at least five hundred pounds; she stood six and a half feet tall, and her arms were thick as hams and like in shape, covered by the long sleeves of a black caftan. Her face was little more than eyes and mouth poked into white dough, topped with well-kept long black hair.

    "Hello," he said, his voice cracking.

    She paused at the top of the staircase and thumped her palm on the railing. "Hel-lo," she repeated, her tiny eyes growing almost imperceptibly larger. He couldn't decide whether to stay or run. "Antros. You're human. Where in hell did you come from?"

    He pointed to the rear of the house. "Outside. The vineyard gate."

    "You couldn't have come that way," the woman said, her voice deepening. "It's locked."

    He took the key-holder from his pants pocket and held it up. "I used this."

    "A key!" She made her way down the stairs slowly, taking each step with great care, as well she should have. If she fell, she was heavy enough to kill herself and bring the staircase down with her. "Who gave that to you?"

    Michael didn't answer.

    "Who gave that to you?"

    "Mr. Waltiri," he said in a small voice.

    "Waltiri, Waltiri." She reached the bottom and waddled slowly toward him, her arms describing archs with each step to avoid the span of her hips. "Nobody comes here," she said, vibrating to a slow stop a few feet from Michael. "You speak Cascar or Nerb?"

    He shook his head, not understanding.

    "Only English?"

    "I speak a little French," he said. 'Took two years in high school. And some Spanish."

    She tittered, then abruptly broke into a loud, high, sad cackle. "French, Spanish. You're new. Definitely new."

    He couldn't argue with that. "Where am I?"

    "When did you get here?" she countered.

    "About half an hour ago, I think."

    "What time was it when you left?"

    "Left where?"

    "Your home, boy," she said, some of the gravel tone returning.

    "About one in the morning."

    "You don't know where you are, or who I am?"

    He shook his head. A slow anger grew alongside his fear.

    "My name," the huge, corpulent woman said, "is Lamia. Yours?" She lifted one arm and pointed a surprisingly delicate finger at him.

    "Michael," he said.

    "What did you bring with you?"

    He held out his arms. "My clothes, I guess. The key."

    "What's that in your coat pocket?"

    "A book."

    She nodded as best she could; her head was almost immobile on the column of her neck. The effort buried her chin in flesh. "Mr. Waltiri sent you. Where is he?"

    "He's dead."

    She cackled again, as if that was something ridiculous. "And so am I. Dead as this house, dead as a million dreams!" Her laughter scattered off the walls and ceilings like a flight of desperate birds. "Can you go back?"

    "I don't know," he said. "I want