Now that he had edged through the doorway Serrin could see a little more of his surroundings. The decor was a bizarre clash: oil paintings behind security glass—a Rembrandt, if he wasn’t mistaken—and more anonymous Dutch landscape works, a cabinet stuffed with elven crystal work from Tir Taimgire, and a Ming vase on a pedestal. Truth be told Serrin didn’t know whether it was a Ming vase or not. He’d tagged it that mentally because Ming was the only dynasty name he could remember. Interspersed with the art were surveillance vidcameras, sensor systems, sprinkler systems, and a pair of wall-mounted autofire crossbow pistols that swiveled to face his chest as he sat down in the room’s only chair. None of it made him feel very safe and secure.