The Silk Pavilion

A wide black silk umbrella rested half-unfurled across the checkered tiles, looking less like forgotten rain gear and far more like an imposing carnival marquee. To pass such an audacious dome without mounting the scaffolding would be outright negligence, wouldn't you say? Gathering my trailing skirts, I scaled the curved crook of the polished wooden handle and stepped out along a taut steel rib. The fabric dipped beneath my heeled boots with a deep, drum-like thump that resonated across the quiet hall. Reaching the peak, I wedged a stray mother-of-pearl collar stay upright between the stitched panels, crowning the summit with an exquisite spire. One cannot simply leave a travelling court without its proper finial.