Donahue groaned. Hart straightened and stepped away from him, so that when he emptied his stomach, she was well clear. He started to roll over, but she whispered a spell. In his weakened state, he had little resistance and succumbed to the enforced sleep she pressed upon his mind. She tapped the hall’s illusions, extending them, to cover the sprawled body. Stretching an existing illusion was something that she couldn’t do anywhere, but the mana-rich environment of the palace allowed certain liberties to be taken. The masking was an imperfect job, but it might delay discovery of the sleeping Donahue for a few minutes.