Lalo straightened and looked at Illyra, who lay back against her pillows withthe stillness of sleep, or trance. There were dark smudges beneath her closedeyes, as if he had touched her with his paint-stained finger there. He had feltthe power moving through him as he painted, but this time the meaning of hiswork was hidden from him even when he came out of his own trance of creation andlooked at the cards.

The three flame-cards that were finished glowed in the sunlight that camethrough the window, the colors seeming to vibrate with their own energy. /should be grateful, thought the limner. At least now I know that my hands stillhave power. But he did not understand what he had painted, and something achedin his belly at the anguish he saw in Illyra's shut face. Carefully, quietly,fearing to disturb her, Lalo began to put his paints away.

"The cards are beautiful," said Gilla. "So many of Lalo's recent commissionshave been murals, I'd forgotten how lovely his detail work can be." She laid theroot card of Wood carefully back atop the pile. The rich greens and browns ofthe "Forest Primeval" seemed to glow with their own light, like sunshineslanting through innumerable leaves. Molin Torchholder's demand had for themoment given the marriage mural precedence over Kama's commission for the cards,even though the deck was nearly finished now. Illyra was nearly well now too, inbody. But she and Gilla had grown accustomed to each other's company.

"I hate them," said Illyra in a low voice.

Gilla looked back at the couch, an angry defense of Lalo's work trembling on hertongue. The S'danzo's eyes were closed, but the slow tears were welling frombeneath her shut lids. Gilla stifled her anger and went to the other woman, tooka damp cloth, and began to sponge her cheeks and brow.

"My dear, my dear, it's all right now...." It was the instinctive murmur of a