Vengeance of Dragons (Secret Texts) by Lisle Holly

Author:Lisle, Holly [Lisle, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC009020
ISBN: 9780759520134
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2000-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

A week to the day from Kait’s meeting with Domagar Addo, the traders met with the would-be investors. Dùghall had chosen the site, and he and Kait went in early by separate routes, carefully shielded.

The Bradenberry Inn squatted at the base of Palmetto Cliff, nestled into the bones of the Galweighs’ mountain, positioned directly beneath Galweigh House. As she walked up the street toward the inn, Kait looked up at her old home with both longing and regret. Galweigh House, the part built into the face of the cliff, soared toward the clouds, a gleaming white fortress sparkling with semiprecious stones and mosaics of colored glass that blazed like gemstones in the midday sun. It was an Ancients’ artifact made a part of the mountain, haunted by the horrors of its past; it was a treasure house locked away above the rest of the world; it was like a beautiful woman who flaunted her riches but held herself in haughty disdain over the heads of the poor and the powerless. And if the rumors were true, it lay empty, home only to vermin and ghosts. She longed to climb up to it, to walk through its gate and enter its great hall and run through its corridors. She longed to touch its walls and call out the names of her mother and father, her brothers and sisters—and she longed to hear their voices shout her name in greeting.

But she wouldn’t make that climb—only dust and the ghostly whisper of the wind and the echoes of her voice would greet her if she dared return.

Ahead of Kait, the translucent half-arch of the Avenue of Triumph rose from the center of Celebration Square to the western end of Palmetto Cliff Road, looking like a thread spun by a spider to connect the mundane world with the magical House above. Behind her, the obsidian Path of Gods switchbacked up the cliff face, ugly and solid and imposing.

She was as close to home as she dared to get. She might never step inside Galweigh House’s translucent white walls again, might never again sleep in her own bed, might never watch the sun rise through her window or reclaim her belongings. She had to assume that everything she had lost was gone forever. So she indulged herself with only that one wistful look at the white balconies stepped down the cliff face, and then she returned her attention to her task. She reached the inn and pushed through the thick, carved mahogany doors into cool dimness.

Dùghall, already in place, sat at a table near the interior arches, which framed a lovely garden. He sipped at a tankard of iced papaya beer, and nibbled at a plate of steamed maize, peppers, and Rophetian beans. He was staring out into the garden, and he didn’t look in her direction when she entered. Her shields were as tight as she could hold them, so he couldn’t feel her presence. He gave no sign that he was aware of her arrival.

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