Prospero Lost: Prospero's Daughter, Book I - Plot & Excerpts
Mab looked at his watch. “With any luck, no,” I replied. We stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, gazing back toward Capitol Hill along the green avenue known as the Mall. The serpentine length of the Vietnam Memorial, the World War II Memorial, the rectangular reflecting pool, the towering white obelisk of the Washington Monument, and the handsome buildings of the Smithsonian museums lay between us and the dome of the Capitol. It was an impressive sight, as grand as the cathedrals of Europe. The wind was bitingly cold. Few tourists were about. A young couple in matching plum parkas sat within the memorial eating their lunch, and a small tour group of elderly citizens stood together in a tight cluster, reading the inscriptions on the inside walls of the memorial itself. These made up the entirety of those present, except for the three Italian stonemasons who were doing some repair work on the farthest of the enormous columns that lined the front of the monument. I would have preferred to spend the morning flying down to the Caribbean, but since we could not depart from Washington, D.C., until after our meeting with Ferdinand, we had spent it shopping instead, with periodic interruptions as I fielded calls from Prospero, Inc.
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