"Lay her down on the couch," said Illyra in a strained voice. "We'll need coldwater and cloths."
"I've already ordered them," said Myrtis calmly, "and perhaps these will help aswell." She gestured, and one of her girls brought in two of the plumed fanswhich they used to fan away the sweat of amorous exercise from the bodies oftheir more important customers, then scurried out of the room.
Illyra had already smoothed the coverlet. Gilla laid Latilla down and reachedout for the first compress without looking away. But she was aware of Lalo closebeside her, and she drew on his energy as Illyra had drawn upon hers when theymade their spell. After a little, the fanning and the cold cloths seemed to havesome effect, and Latilla fell into an uneasy doze.
The first crisis over, Lalo had gone to his worktable and was fussing with hispaints, laying them out instinctively as if work could help him control thechaos of his world.
"Oh Gilla," said Illyra pitifully, "she looks so like my little girl!" Gilla mether eyes, and the S'danzo flushed painfully. At her words, Lalo looked up ather.
"Where are the finished cards?" he asked then. "There were only a few to bedone-if I complete the deck, perhaps you can read some hope for us now!"
Illyra stared at him, and her face went stark white against the dark masses ofher hair. Then her gaze slid unwillingly to the table in the comer, where thecards were still as she had laid them a week ago. Still unsuspecting, Lalo wentto it and stood, looking down.
Gilla's flesh had turned to stone. Lalo was no S'danzo, but he was a master ofsymbol, and he had painted those cards. She tried to read his reaction in theslump of his shoulders, the bent head with its thinning, ginger hair. Surely he