Kaylin knew that the light—the sunlight, the open space—wasn’t real. Whatever lay beyond open windows and arches was like a painting; it looked genuine but it couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be entered. She expected that this gallery—it was called a gallery—would be full of artificial light, something that mimicked sun.

“She believed that sunlight would damage paintings.”

“Artificial sunlight?”

“It was not always artificial,” the Avatar replied. “And she was not wrong.”

Kaylin could see a hall in dim light. A window of a kind existed at the far end of the hall, not the normal Barrani open arch. The light from that spread out to touch walls; the walls were farther apart than the gloom and dim light suggested. Not a hall, then. A long, narrow room.

“Can you add light to the room so we can examine it?”

“I can,” the Avatar said, but after a longer pause.

“Don’t,” Teela told him. “Don’t add anything that she herself did not add when she entered this gallery.” Something about her tone was pure Hawk.

Hope’s wing remained over Kaylin’s eyes.

Only when he lifted it—briefly, as if to make a point—did she see that the gallery was well lit.

“Teela.”

Teela nodded.

“It’s a much darker room when seen through Hope’s wing.” It reminded Kaylin of Mrs. Erickson’s unused parlor.

“Hope?” Kaylin said.

No.

“I need to be able to see what’s in the room.”

The Avatar fell silent for two long breaths. “Lady,” he said, although he didn’t look at the Consort, “I must ask you to leave.”

The Consort stiffened; Kaylin thought she would argue.

“She is arguing,” the Avatar then said. “Lady—there is something very strange, very off, about this enclosed space. It should not be possible, and it implies that I am not in full control, not fully aware, of what has been done.”

Teela turned to the Consort, her eyes indigo. “He requires your permission to remove you. Give it.” It wasn’t a request; the Consort might have been Kaylin for all the respect she was now offered.

“And will you leave Lord Kaylin at risk?”