Father Gheraeld chuckled. “No, Ayn. You are looking through the glass to the room below. The actual room.”

“Why would you do this instead of using a vid screen? I mean, can they see you, too? And how did you get it? Oh, I’m sorry.” Ayn put a hand over her mouth. She looked up at Father Gheraeld.

“Not to worry my dear,” he smiled. “I would be disappointed if you weren’t full of questions, given who your parents are … and were.”

Tears stung Ayn’s eyes. Stupid, she thought. Don’t lose it now. “You knew my mother?”

“Indeed. A long time ago. You look like her,” he said.

Ayn turned from the glass to find him watching her. He stood with his hands behind his back and there was a look in his eyes she couldn’t, or didn’t want to, understand. She blushed, taking a step away from him.