Teela closed her eyes briefly. “Parlor. And, Helen? I might avail myself of something to drink if it were offered.”

“Corporal Handred?”

Severn shook his head. “I don’t drink unless I’m working.”

“You don’t drink when you’re working, either,” Kaylin pointed out as she followed Helen.

“Some of my work involves fraternizing with people who consider themselves highly important; if they offer a drink, there are times when I can’t afford to refuse it.” He walked beside Kaylin until they reached the parlor door, and then followed her in.

16

There were always enough chairs in the parlor; it didn’t matter how many guests Helen—or Kaylin, in theory—was entertaining; she was aware of the needs of her guests, and she met them. The chairs that appeared were different from the usual chairs; they seemed more formal to Kaylin, and therefore less likely to be comfortable. Teela, on the other hand, didn’t seem inclined to sit. She was pacing.

“Helen, how much of an exotic botanist are you?”

“I’m not really a botanist at all, dear. What I know of plants, I learned from my various tenants: some were avid, even ferocious, gardeners. You are asking about the flower Kaylin saw in the painting.”

“I am. You can see it clearly?”

“I can see it as clearly as Kaylin did. Kaylin, do you mind if I show the others?”

Kaylin shook her head. Had she thought to do it, she might have requisitioned one of the Halls’ portable mirrors, or one of the palace’s memory crystals. The latter request was less likely to be rejected, given events involving Sanabalis, and the man who served as quartermaster to the Hawks had never quite forgiven Kaylin for the destruction of nonstandard but very expensive kit.

Helen, however, served the function either of the two devices would have served. “Do you want to take a seat?” Kaylin’s home asked Teela. “The chairs are arranged in a messy circle, and I would like to create the projection in its center.”

Teela took a seat. She hadn’t personally seen the painting. Kaylin had. The younger Hawk wondered if this projection, this illusion, was the sole reason Teela had practically marched Kaylin home.

“It is,” Helen replied. “This will be larger than it was in the painting for better visibility,” she added to the cohort at large, none of whom were yet in the room. That changed as Helen worked. Mandoran and Terrano joined them. The others chose to watch from a distance.

A green ball of light appeared in the center of the chairs, at chest height. It was larger than Kaylin’s head, and it started to spin. Filaments darkened and solidified as it did; Kaylin recognized the color those filaments adopted. It was just as unattractive in midair in the safety of her home as it had been in the painting.