“My father, Sebastian Wolf, was one of the better-known members of the Brotherhood. And we lived with him. One fine day he decided to hammer me. And my sister as well. She perished, and I survived. Before this he had used us as obligatory decorations. And Mama as well. But she died earlier.”
“But . . . how old were you when you were hammered?”
“Seventeen.” Olga stared at the piece of fish on her fork. She picked it up and lifted it to her mouth. and once again dropped it on her tray. “I don’t feel like eating.”
