“Show me the room you sat in—if you don’t mind. Also, keep talking.”
Margot said, “I don’t want you to touch anything without my permission. Everything in the room I used is expensive. Everything.”
“It’s meant to impress the wealthy?”
“Yes. I have another two rooms, both of which see more frequent use. This room is meant to impress.” She pointed to a curtain composed of long strands of beads. Or of what appeared, at a distance, to be beads. Margot clearly meant the “don’t touch” part; she pulled the beads back to either side of the open arch herself, hooking them carefully in place before she entered the room.
Kaylin slid her hands behind her back and clasped them loosely as she followed.
* * *
Kaylin expected the room to be a gaudy, bright den of things—sort of an upscale version of the dust-covered, cobweb-anchored shelves in Evanton’s store, but more practical. It wasn’t. It was almost austere in its simplicity. There was, of course, a table, and on it a crystal ball, which was a prop for fraud as far as the Hawks were concerned.
Kaylin had visited the Oracular Halls a number of times, all on duty—she knew that Oracles and their prophecies didn’t require something as fixed as a large glass ball. Vision was not confined, in Kaylin’s experience, to fixed locations. She glanced at the rug, the wall hanging, the painting; she saw a vase, flowers and four chairs, all of which were empty.
The chairs, however, would have been at home in the palace. They were upholstered and very heavy. Margot indicated that the Hawks could sit, but her expression made clear that the chairs were far more valuable than her current visitors. Kaylin declined. It wasn’t like she was ever going to be comfortable in Margot’s company, anyway.
“First, I want it to be clear that I never talked to you.”
“Well, at least it’s believable,” Kaylin replied. “What made you overcome your normal reluctance?”
Margot’s smile was leaden. “I know you believe me monstrous,” she said, “and in general I don’t care. But the man who came to visit me today was unusual.”
“Go on.”
Margot turned to the painting on the wall. “Records.” It was a good thing Margot’s back was turned, because she missed seeing Kaylin’s jaw fall open. By the time she turned again, Kaylin was back in control of her face.
What Kaylin had assumed was a painting was, in fact, a mirror. The colors of mountain and city and sky broke into tiny pieces, recombining into an image of this room, and one of the occupied chairs. “This is the visitor.”
“Anything unusual about him?”
“Yes—but not visually.”
Visually, however, he was impressive. Not a single hair was out of place. If he hadn’t so obviously been human, he might have been Barrani. His eyes were a gray blue, which accentuated the subtle ice of his expression. He didn’t look familiar to Kaylin, but she understood why Margot had pegged him as a wealthy mark. It wasn’t his clothing—although that, to Kaylin’s eye, was costly—but his carriage, his demeanor. He was clearly used to both having power and wielding it to gain obedience.
She didn’t like him. Then again, neither did Margot.
Severn was staring at the man.
“Another one of your former clients?” Kaylin asked, half joking.
“I’m not completely certain,” was the serious reply.
Margot frowned, but said nothing. Kaylin, however, flinched. “What name did he give?”
“He didn’t.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Many of my wealthy clients come to me on the condition of secrecy. As long as their gold is good, I don’t care what they call themselves, even if it’s nothing. I usually recognize them regardless.”
“Not this guy.”
“No.”
“You think he’ll be coming back?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it. He came because he wanted the usual glimpse into the future.”
