“When the current occupant was perhaps eleven years of age, they met a young woman who was painting in the common for coin. It is not unusual for mortals. She was striking, graceful, and very talented according to the woman who was a child at the time.” Teela exhaled. “With your permission?”

The Consort nodded. Kaylin, who was about to ask, Permission for what? felt a wave of magic crawl across her arms, up her neck, and down her spine.

“This painter was so taken with the child and her parents that she offered to come to their house and do a private sitting. She arranged the family in a chair they owned, but took special care with the girl.” Teela gestured. In the center of this small table, the painting that Helen had brought to life appeared.

The Consort froze.

“The hair was arranged by the artist. The flower, brought in a planter, was placed in the braided hair by the artist. The child was then asked to sit with her parents. Do you recognize the styling?”

The Consort, however, didn’t seem to notice the complicated braiding; her eyes reflected the flower, as if it were the only thing she could see. “Is this accurate?” she asked, voice soft. “Lord Kaylin?”

“Yes. Although I’m not sure Teela’s magic captures the livid quality of the green.” She hesitated, and received a warning glare from Teela. “My familiar did not like the painting.”

“I wish to speak with the mortal. You will bring her here. Now.”

19

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Teela said, reverting to Elantran.

Kaylin now understood exactly why Teela had been so scrupulously careful to mention neither name nor address. Technically, neither she nor Teela were allowed—by oath and by law—to discuss ongoing investigations with anyone but Hawks or Swords. Teela skirted that edge here, for obvious reasons, but she did so with attention to detail. She had failed to mention many of the significant facts.

Kaylin hoped that the Avatar could not, or would not, remove those facts and lay them across the figurative table, but knew the Consort would find out; Ynpharion could no doubt listen in, and probably was.

There was silence in the wake of that thought. Perhaps he couldn’t at the moment; Helen could also prevent the namebound from reaching out or listening in on any conversation that occurred within her confines, unless she deemed it an emergency.

“She is mortal. This investigation has already caused a handful of deaths—but those deaths fall under the auspices of the Barrani caste court. Any harm done to the mortal will most assuredly not. She is known to the Hawks, and she is held in affection by them; they will not let it go should the worst happen. Kaylin will be chief among them.