We’re standing in the room with it now: a big, airy room full of all the expected trimmings—rich silks and fine tapestries, expensive art. That marble nymph over there might be by Phidias—if I just grabbed it and ran off, I’d be financially secure for the rest of my life. You’d think they’d make an impression—but they don’t. No more do the people, the legion hardcases and their new recruits, all of them just accidentally resting with hands by their weapons. The whole crowd and all the wealth is so much mist. It doesn’t matter that it’s full of life and matter, this room is all but empty. There’s me, and there’s the Chamber, and we’re alone together.