Chapter 11
ISANDOR WALKED ON in the grey-blue light of dusk. Above the roofs of houses, the skylights danced and shimmered in pretty displays of orange, pink and green. Far away, the sounds of partying continued, the crowd cheering the jugglers in the markets and the drummers at the festival grounds.
He had no idea where Carro had gone, but he didn’t feel like going back into the meltery.
He might as well go back to the eyrie.
And then . . . golden strands snaked from the sky. Very briefly, they touched roofs and chimneys; they shimmered over the sloping sides of the limpets and crackled along the ground. A thread touched his hand and burst into a spray of diamonds. The display lasted a heartbeat before it winked out.
Icefire.
He stopped to look over his shoulder, his heart thudding.
