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Authors: Zoran Zivkovic
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throat to attract the driver’s attention, but he either didn’t hear or was ignoring her.
The further they moved from the entrance the darker it got. When they turned left down a side alley they found themselves in pitch darkness relieved only slightly by the lanterns of the two carriages. Then, some distance in front of them, a place lit up.
She stared in that direction. Was that Madam Vera’s burial place? She couldn’t tell in the dark. Before they even got there, however, she realized that it wasn’t. It was an enormous mausoleum resembling a small house, not an ordinary grave with a small tombstone. It was illuminated by spotlights placed about the ground. The black marble absorbed most of their radiance.
When the first carriage reached the mausoleum it was greeted with a fanfare. At the sound, the carriage with Madam Olga stopped too. Sticking her head out to the side, she saw two figures dressed in tuxedoes and top hats approach the first vehicle. There was something unusual in their appearance, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
They stretched out their hands and helped Madam Vera descend. Then they led her to the mausoleum entrance. The door opened and she quickly disappeared inside. The first carriage went forward and the closer of the two figures signaled the second carriage to approach.
When hands were stretched out to help her too, Madam Olga realized what had seemed strange. The figures in tuxedoes were girls. Their red hair was tucked up under the top hats. They smiled broadly, but this did not reassure the passenger. She would have preferred to order the driver to keep following the first carriage, but she suspected that he would not have obeyed.
She accepted the hands reluctantly. Before she descended, however, one of the girls took her leaflet and looked at the back of it, then nodded to the other girl. As soon as Madam Olga touched ground, the door in front of her started to open. She thought she would go in by herself like Madam Vera, but the girl with the leaflet went in before her.
Just beyond the entrance, steep steps of bare stone led downwards. Torches in iron sconces were placed at regular intervals on both sides. Since there was no railing, Madam Olga held onto the cold, wet wall.
There must have been at least thirty steps. Before reaching the bottom, Madam Olga heard a round of applause from down below. They finally reached a high, round room, lit by a ring of torches at head-height.
To the left of the entrance at the bottom of the stairs was a semicircular viewing stand with six rows of seats placed in steps one above the other, similar to an amphitheater. There was an aisle that cut through the middle, dividing the seats, with three on either side. All the places seemed to be taken. Madam Olga had never seen so many clowns together in one place.
Across from the entrance, a figure dressed in a long purple robe was sitting on a high-backed, throne-like chair. Its face could not be seen because its head was bowed and covered by a purple hood with no eye slits. Gloves of the same purple hid the hands placed on its knees. In front of the figure stood a square glass vessel like a fish tank, half-full of multicolored balls.
Madam Vera was standing on a mound in the middle of the room, her back to the audience. If it weren’t for her black blindfold, she would be looking at a large wooden wheel with leather straps by the wall to the right of the entrance. The box she’d bought in the old-fashioned weapons store lay on a little table next to her. Its glass top was raised so Madam Olga could finally see the four long daggers.
The girl in the tuxedo who had brought her down the stairs motioned towards the stand. That’s when Madam Olga noticed that it wasn’t completely full. The middle place in the second row on the left was empty. She wasn’t expected to join the clowns, was she? But there could be no doubt; the seat had a large number eight, the same that was written on the
The further they moved from the entrance the darker it got. When they turned left down a side alley they found themselves in pitch darkness relieved only slightly by the lanterns of the two carriages. Then, some distance in front of them, a place lit up.
She stared in that direction. Was that Madam Vera’s burial place? She couldn’t tell in the dark. Before they even got there, however, she realized that it wasn’t. It was an enormous mausoleum resembling a small house, not an ordinary grave with a small tombstone. It was illuminated by spotlights placed about the ground. The black marble absorbed most of their radiance.
When the first carriage reached the mausoleum it was greeted with a fanfare. At the sound, the carriage with Madam Olga stopped too. Sticking her head out to the side, she saw two figures dressed in tuxedoes and top hats approach the first vehicle. There was something unusual in their appearance, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
They stretched out their hands and helped Madam Vera descend. Then they led her to the mausoleum entrance. The door opened and she quickly disappeared inside. The first carriage went forward and the closer of the two figures signaled the second carriage to approach.
When hands were stretched out to help her too, Madam Olga realized what had seemed strange. The figures in tuxedoes were girls. Their red hair was tucked up under the top hats. They smiled broadly, but this did not reassure the passenger. She would have preferred to order the driver to keep following the first carriage, but she suspected that he would not have obeyed.
She accepted the hands reluctantly. Before she descended, however, one of the girls took her leaflet and looked at the back of it, then nodded to the other girl. As soon as Madam Olga touched ground, the door in front of her started to open. She thought she would go in by herself like Madam Vera, but the girl with the leaflet went in before her.
Just beyond the entrance, steep steps of bare stone led downwards. Torches in iron sconces were placed at regular intervals on both sides. Since there was no railing, Madam Olga held onto the cold, wet wall.
There must have been at least thirty steps. Before reaching the bottom, Madam Olga heard a round of applause from down below. They finally reached a high, round room, lit by a ring of torches at head-height.
To the left of the entrance at the bottom of the stairs was a semicircular viewing stand with six rows of seats placed in steps one above the other, similar to an amphitheater. There was an aisle that cut through the middle, dividing the seats, with three on either side. All the places seemed to be taken. Madam Olga had never seen so many clowns together in one place.
Across from the entrance, a figure dressed in a long purple robe was sitting on a high-backed, throne-like chair. Its face could not be seen because its head was bowed and covered by a purple hood with no eye slits. Gloves of the same purple hid the hands placed on its knees. In front of the figure stood a square glass vessel like a fish tank, half-full of multicolored balls.
Madam Vera was standing on a mound in the middle of the room, her back to the audience. If it weren’t for her black blindfold, she would be looking at a large wooden wheel with leather straps by the wall to the right of the entrance. The box she’d bought in the old-fashioned weapons store lay on a little table next to her. Its glass top was raised so Madam Olga could finally see the four long daggers.
The girl in the tuxedo who had brought her down the stairs motioned towards the stand. That’s when Madam Olga noticed that it wasn’t completely full. The middle place in the second row on the left was empty. She wasn’t expected to join the clowns, was she? But there could be no doubt; the seat had a large number eight, the same that was written on the
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