She chose to risk a dining room hutch which was a lot heavier than a chair. Mandoran went out to help Severn move it, which involved removing its contents first. Even empty, it was heavy. Between the two of them, they dragged the hutch into the doorframe, which left very little space to maneuver around. Mrs. Erickson returned to the foyer before they placed the hutch in the doorway; Severn carried the foyer end, and Mandoran slid between frame and hutch, elongating himself to do so.

Serralyn didn’t follow. She saw them through and then returned to the dining room window. Bakkon had, according to Severn and Mandoran, moved his bulk to the porch, so Serralyn didn’t have to lean out the window and shout; they were conversing. Neither were certain the mundane solution would be a solution, which is the only reason Serralyn chose to stay.

Terrano hadn’t taken the stairs; he’d decided to investigate the first floor. There were side doors in the main foyer area, but he avoided those, choosing instead to head past the staircase into the hall beyond it. It was a very, very Barrani hall; it would have been perfectly at home in the High Halls.

Kaylin didn’t understand why the Barrani were so enamored of high ceilings. Probably because they never had to worry about cleaning them. Regardless, these were tall enough she could only see the ceiling in the distance; if she wanted to see the ceiling above her head, she’d be better off lying flat on the ground and looking up.

“I’ve checked the ceilings,” Terrano told them. “The light is magical in nature, but it’s normal magic. There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of interactive enchantments beyond the door itself—at least not on this level. But this hall is interesting. Look at the walls.”

Kaylin nodded. Ahead, at what appeared to be the halfway mark, she could see alcoves in the wall; they were well lit, probably by the same magic Terrano had detected in the ceiling. Or so she assumed.

But as she approached them, she could see that they contained framed paintings.

Hope’s wing tightened against her upper face. The alcoves weren’t symmetrical across the two sides of the halls; they were staggered. She came to the first one and realized she was holding her breath only when she exhaled. The painting was of a Barrani woman.

The painting looked like a painting when viewed without Hope’s wing. It looked the same when viewed through the wing, but the little monster insisted that she examine it with his wing—by smacking her face with it. “Can you give me a hint that doesn’t involve smacking my face?” she snapped.

“You can’t see a difference?” Teela asked.

“No. It’s a well-lit alcove. A portrait of a Barrani woman hangs on the wall beneath the light.”