“Jamal,” Mrs. Erickson said, joining her plea to Kaylin’s. The old woman’s voice reached him. To Kaylin’s surprise Jamal attempted to throw himself into the old woman’s arms. He passed through her.

Kaylin crouched to bring her face in line with his, as Mrs. Erickson had. “Jamal,” she said quietly, “An’Teela is my friend. She’s a Hawk.” She took her first chance. “She is not Azoria.”

Silence then. Or silence from Jamal.

“She’s not? You’re sure?” Katie asked, her head and shoulders jutting out from a wall.

“I’m absolutely certain.” Kaylin hesitated, and then said, “I know the Barrani are very, very similar to look at—but she’s a Hawk. She serves the Emperor. There’s no point in breaking windows. Nothing you could throw—nothing I could throw—could hurt Teela.”

“Will it annoy her?” Esme asked, coming through the same wall that Katie had half appeared through.

“It depends on her mood.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s in a very good mood right now.”

“No. But her mood might improve if you could get Jamal to stop throwing things out the window.”

“I doubt it,” Katie said, fully emerging as well. “He’s not going away.” He referred to the neighbor. “Do you think he thinks she’s Azoria as well?”

“I’m not sure,” Kaylin replied slowly, as if considering the question. She was. Azoria, if she were truly the occupant of a home that no longer existed in Records, except as an artifact—a ghost—had not been in the neighborhood since well before the neighbor was even born. If he had made the same mistake the kids had, there had to be a reason for it. She didn’t like the possibilities.

Teela didn’t make the immediate connection; the man didn’t speak a name as he wept and groveled. He did appear to be apologizing for losing her special gift—but also begged her to punish Mrs. Erickson for the theft. That much, she could glean from what Severn could hear, because Severn had remained between the house and Teela, as if intent on extricating the Barrani Hawk should things become messy. Or messier.

“Jamal, why don’t you guys head into the kitchen?”

Jamal shook his head. He couldn’t actually touch Mrs. Erickson, but could he, Kaylin was certain he’d have a death grip on her sleeve. Mrs. Erickson, for her part, smiled at him, trying to be encouraging.

“Are you sure she’s a Hawk?”

“Yes, dear. I see her from time to time in the front office.” Kaylin’s word was clearly suspect; Mrs. Erickson’s was not.

“Sorry.”

“No one was hurt.”

“I broke the window.”