Nell turned the page and saw it, just as the book said. This was a 
two-page illustration—a color painting, she reckoned. Any one part of it 
looked just as real as a cine feed. But the geometry of the thing was funny, 
borrowing some suprarealistic tricks from classical Chinese landscape painting; 
the mountains were too steep, and they marched away forever into the distance, 
and if Nell stared, she could see tall castles clinging to their impossibly 
precipitous slopes, colorful banners waving from their flagpoles bearing 
heraldic devices that were dynamic: The gryphons crouched, the 
lions roared, and she could see all of these details, even though the castles should have 
been miles away; whenever she looked at something it got bigger and turned into 
a different picture, and when her attention wavered—when she blinked and 
shook her head—it snapped back to the first view again.