The Denver Art Museum loomed on the edge of Civic Center Park, just south of downtown. Travis knew the museum was considered a masterpiece of neogothic architecture, but to him it looked more like a castle seen through a fun-house mirror: big and hulking but distorted, containing none of the original grandeur. Only after a minute did he realize that both he and Grace stood before the museum’s glass doors, unmoving. Travis could understand his own hesitation. After all, his last conversation with the Seekers had been anything but cordial. He had been furious with Deirdre Falling Hawk, accusing her and the Seekers of manipulating him. It wasn’t until he returned to Eldh and encountered the ancient, wise, and vastly cruel dragon Sfithrisir that he realized what a weapon the truth could be. Sometimes lies were the only things that made the hard realities of life bearable, and the Seekers had known that. But why was Grace hesitating? The Seekers had helped her escape an ironheart at the Denver police station not three blocks from this museum.
