“A really dusty room with spiderwebs on the ceiling. But it’s darker. We could maybe open the curtains?”

Teela shook her head, and another surge of magic rubbed Kaylin’s skin raw. She was annoyed to see that it had been used to call forth a light.

“It’s not a normal light, so don’t start whining.”

Kaylin frowned. “It can’t be a weaker light than you normally call up.”

“No. It’s much stronger; it illuminates corners that our natural vision can’t always see clearly.”

“That’s not what it’s doing, for me.”

“What is it doing?”

“It’s...it’s kind of making everything look darker.”

“Everything?”

“No—I can see the light reflected on the floor here and there, but the rest of the room seems to be in darker shadow.”

“How much darker?”

“Darker. It was better without the light.” Kaylin started to move toward the curtains.

“Don’t touch them. Do not touch anything.”

“Standing on the floor okay?”

“Where you’re standing now, yes, and before you ask, I’m fine. But there is something off about this room. You can’t sense magic? Your skin isn’t reacting?”

“If someone hadn’t used two spells, I might be able to answer that question helpfully.” At Teela’s raised brow, Kaylin relented. “No, when I entered the room my magic allergy didn’t alert me the way it does with door wards and the spells you generally cast.”

“That’s less good. Fine, I’ll be patient. Ask Mrs. Erickson about this room.”

The children were not in the kitchen; Mrs. Erickson was. She was baking.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Kaylin began.

“No, it’s fine. The children are upset and they’re in the parlor.”

“What are you baking?”

“Cookies. I know they can’t eat them, but I find baking very calming. I like to make things that people can enjoy. It isn’t world-changing, I know.” She said the last apologetically. “Is the corporal concerned about something?”

“There’s a small room behind the kitchen that’s covered in dust and cobwebs.” It reminded Kaylin of Evanton’s storefront. “It looks sort of like I’d imagine an attic would when no one’s been in it for decades.”

Mrs. Erickson returned to her mixing in silence.

“Do you have an attic?”

“No. We have a half attic, and it was occasionally used for storage, but it’s difficult to access without ladders, and it’s hard to store things that weigh very much there now. I have trouble with ladders.”

“And the room I mentioned?”

“It’s not used anymore. It hasn’t been used for a very long time. It was once a family room, admittedly a small one.”

“The children don’t like it.” It was a guess, but it was also a statement.