The Golden Key (1996) by Melanie Rawn; Jennifer Roberson; Kate Elliott

Author:Melanie Rawn; Jennifer Roberson; Kate Elliott
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, Magic, Family, General, Painters, Fantasy, Fiction, Painting
ISBN: 9780756406714
Publisher: Tor
Published: 1996-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

GALERRIA 1304

That woman, the bane of his recent existence, had not been content to meddle with the do'Verrada family politics. No, she must go and give birth to a son who had no taste but for the display of his own wealth and who, together with his vulgar bride, felt impelled to remodel Palasso Verrada with the most ill-chosen fashions.

Arriano Grijalva stood in the Galerria foyer and stared in dismay. The once classical lines and clean bright walls of the art gallery had been replaced with the latest Zhinna style, lots of spindly-legged chairs painted black and trimmed with patterns of gold dragons, pedestals burdened with ugly black-lacquered vases, all very eastern and exotic. Worse, riotous gold-leaf wallpaper engulfed the walls, drowning the paintings that hung along the length of the gallery.

The paintings, too, had been rearranged. Instead of the old tradition of giving each magnificent painting, whether Treaty, Birth, Death, or Marriage, its own place, now they were hung all one atop the other with barely a hand's-breadth between each one. It looked more like a gaudy storeroom than a gallery. How could anyone be so blind? At least Mechella had not suffered from the sin of bad taste. Her son was not so lucky.

He limped forward, leaning on his cane. Arriano's body was fifty-three years old now. He had given it a good run, better than expected, but its time was over. The bone-fever was affecting his hands.

There, in the nook that looked out over the park, sat the Grijalva drawing class, boys and a few girls brought over this early morning from the compound. He had come today for one last look at the boy he had chosen as his successor.

He paused, catching sight of Lord Limner Riobaro's lovely Marriage of Benetto I and Rostra delta Marei. Matra Dolcha! The fools had stuck it up near the ceiling, surrounded by a series of lesser Treaties that utterly destroyed the graceful beauty of line, the linked hands of Benetto and Rosira. Riobaro had drawn attention away from the bride's plain face by lavishing his lush brushstrokes and perfect sense for color onto her gown's emerald green train, which draped in splendid folds down the steps of the sanctuary in the Cathedral.

This insult made him so angry that he began to shake. He tapped his way carefully to a bench and sank down on it. His joints hurt. With difficulty, he unfolded the guidesheet.

The heavy paper was impressed with a border of intertwined roses outlined with gold paint. An appalling affectation! He skimmed over the names of the Dukes, of the Lord Limners. Was there any order whatsoever to the changes in the gallery? What had they done with Saavedra's portrait?

A shudder of relief passed through his frame. It still hung in the place of honor accorded it by Mechella after the death of Arrigo—as a constant reminder to her sons, perhaps.

Laboriously he tracked through the tiny calligraphy, seeking Riobaro's work. The exhibit had doubled in size in the last twenty years.

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