Rain kept beating against the umbrella, making a sound like a dense roll of little drumbeats.
Although a bluestone path ran through the courtyard, mud swept down constantly from above, almost covering the tops of his boots.
And the farther he went, the more urgent the rain and mud seemed to become, like a symphony gradually building toward a full ensemble.
Kallen placed his hand on the rusty door handle and turned it gently.
The handle turned, but the door would not open. It probably was not locked; the lock was simply broken.
He stepped back half a pace, raised his boot, and controlled his strength.
Bang!
The door was kicked open just like that. A piercing scraping sound came from it, like someone sawing at steel with a wire.
He stepped inside, and the door behind him seemed suddenly caught by the wind.
Bang!
The door "was" shut, shutting out the clamorous, chaotic rain as well.
The transition from noise to silence was a little too abrupt, so abrupt that even Kallen paused to adjust.
The entryway was somewhat dirty. A spot in the corner seemed to have been deliberately arranged for growing mushrooms, making them convenient to fetch when needed in the kitchen without going outside.
He left the entryway and reached the edge of the living room.
Puppet people sat on the chairs, one after another. They were not particularly lifelike, since their faces bore clear seams. Looking at them by lamplight at night would have been frightening.
Alcohol, coffee, and some pastries sat on the dining table and coffee table, as though a lively party had just taken place-or rather... it had not actually stopped and was still underway.
Kallen found an empty chair, gently patted its cushion, then turned and sat down.
He adjusted his