Dark Weaver (Weaver Series) by Dena Nicotra Read Free Book Online Page B

such an impressive sight and I wanted to stop and ask a ton of questions but our host wasn’t stopping.
    I could make out people below us going about their day.  Many were on horseback, while others drove strange looking vehicles the shape (and color) of eggs.  Enormous glass buildings sat adjacent to stone-fronted merchant shops with hanging signs depicting their trades.  I could make out a few of them and wondered what sort of establishment Sandy Regrets might be.  My mind flashed briefly to a stolen kiss on the beach and I quickly shoved that down.  If I could help it, Kess would not be mentioned while I was here.  Even though Kalan had spent a ton of time telling me that it was rude to block my thoughts, I’d made up my mind to do it anyway.  I figured it was better to leave some thoughts to myself – besides, I didn’t want to confuse Kalan or hurt him with stupid thoughts I couldn’t control thinking about.  I sent up a silent prayer that my ability to cover my thoughts with my mental blanket was working, and pressed on behind our guide.
    The breezeway led into a portico, which housed several banks of elevators.   To my delight, I was able to get a closer look at the weavers who were bustling about.  Some paused to bow before Kalan and others were so deeply engrossed in conversations that they didn’t notice us.  What I found most interesting was the manner of speech.  I mean, some spoke normally but others I could hardly understand.  The use of ‘thee’ instead of ‘the’ and ‘thou’ instead of ‘you’ just tickled me to death.  I caught the tail end of another conversation between two young women who appeared to be just a little older than I was.  One of them was pregnant and they were discussing the importance of weaving as it related to raising children.  The one who was not pregnant said, “I would have to disagree, weaving ahead in the child’s life to see what mistakes they will make in advance provides a definite advantage!” The doors to their elevator closed and I was left wondering what it would be like to be friends with them.  I couldn’t imagine what it would be like hanging out with experienced weavers my age!
    Torvin pressed a button in the wall, which summonsed a private elevator and the three of us entered alone.  As the doors closed, our host turned to Kalan with his eyes slightly downcast, “I can only assume that you must be exhausted from your travels in the natural realm my Lord.  We will make this as brief as possible.”  Kalan nodded dismissively and I got the distinct feeling that they were continuing a private conversation mind to mind.  It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t hear them because I assumed they must have been chatting about my inept abilities.  Truth be told, I was terribly concerned about being an embarrassment.  I was thankful that we were here and that I was going to be able to get the help, but if I did anything that caused the slightest discomfort, I’d never forgive myself.
    Proper manners are the backbone of a good Southern girl (especially for one living in a small town), and I was damned and determined to do my very best to make a good impression here.  Granted, it wasn’t as simple as ‘please and thank-you’ or ‘sir and ma’am’ but I’d grilled Kalan on the proper etiquettes and felt relatively confident that I could handle this.  It wasn’ t like me not to adapt to my surroundings.  I’d managed to move from Dempsey to California, and that took some serious adjusting.  Changing my ‘y’alls’ to ‘you guys’ was no easy task. 
    We were directed up a flight of stairs, which led to a Victorian looking building.  Carved into the marble were several words, and I could not decipher most of them.  I scanned the lettering and finally recognized the words ‘Centenium Hall’.  To my relief, Torvin stopped before a set of twin double doors guarded by a matching pair of stone gargoyles.  With a bit of