"What do you... Oh, do you mean can I turn my Sight on myself and then have you read that? Clever, and yes. Give me a moment. I'll need to partially take down my shields, I assume. Let me just check the room shields are up... Good." He closes his eyes, his expression flattening. "Go ahead and look."
Bella will see a brief glimpse of something that does in fact look sort of like a house, though in a bizarre metaphorical and dreamlike way – a cottage-like dwelling, square and single-storeyed with a thatch-style roof and simple windows on either side of an oak door standing open – and then the view ducks inside, there's a narrow entry-hall with tapestries, one end has something like a desk, there are three doors along it. Two have curtained doorways, one has a heavy door and very obvious lock.
The view swoops through one of the curtained doorways. More tapestries on the walls, though the pictures they depict keep shifting – there are maps, pastoral scenes of fields, other images that seem to be mid-battle, old men seated in curved rows in a stadium-like room, people in white in a smaller meeting-room, all of them half-sketched, more evocative than detailed.
There's a table. It holds books, and jars, and a sheathed dagger, and various other items.
I call this my strategy-and-tactics room, Lancir thinks, the words floating up clearly but not quite projecting. It's the part of me that's engaged for most of my work as the Queen's Own, or my past work when I was a Herald-Mage on circuit.
A point of bright light nudges at the dagger, and something echoes through the room. One of the tapestries becomes brighter while others dim. The books on the table seem to...sink, or become smaller, while several of the jars shine brighter.
That is what I mean by pushing with my Gift, Lancir thinks. I am going to stop doing it now because it's quite distracting to demonstrate on myself in the middle of a conversation.