Someone scratched hesitantly at the door. When neither Gilla nor Illyraanswered, it opened softly and Myrtis, a little thinner, but as impeccablypainted and jeweled as ever, came in.
"How is she today?" She gestured toward the half-S'danzo, who lay with her eyestightly closed.
Gilla got to her feet and moved heavily to meet the older woman-at least oneassumed that Myrtis was older, and today she looked it, as if the spells bywhich Lythande had preserved her famous beauty were fading too. Molin Torchholder's gold had paid for Illyra's convalescence here, but the famous madam ofthe Aphrodisia House had given them more than a landlady's care.
"The scar is healing, but Illyra grows weaker," Gilla said in a low voice. "Ithink she does not want to live. And why should she?" she added bitterly.
For a moment Myrtis's eyes glittered. "Do you need a reason? Life is the onlything there is! After all she's survived, and you, too, are you going to give upand let them win?" Her gesture seemed to encompass everything outside the room.Then she drew back her hand as if surprised by her own intensity.
"In any case, there are others who need her," she continued more calmly. Shemoved aside and Gilla saw another figure in the doorway behind her, tall, blackhaired, with a lithe poise that the rich gown she wore so awkwardly could notdisguise and an energy that made even Gilla give way as she swept into the roompast Myrtis.
"What are you doing? She's not well enough-" Gilla began as the newcomer strodeto the bed where Illyra lay, and stood looking down at her.
"They say the S'danzo have no gods, and no mages," the woman said gruffly."Well, the gods the rest of us had aren't talking these days, and the mages are