"She was going to be pretty..." said Illyra in an oddly conversational tone. "My Lillis had golden hair like her father's, do you remember? I used to comb it and wonder how anything that pretty could have been born from me...."

"Yes," answered Gilla quietly. "I know." She had only seen Illyra's daughter a few times, but that did not matter now. "Ganner was the fairest of my children..." Her throat closed.

"How can you understand?" exclaimed the half-S'danzo suddenly. "You still have children! But my daughter is dead and they have taken my little boy away! There is nothing left for me."

"Your child was young," said Gilla heavily. "You do not know what she would have been. But all the labor of raising my boy to manhood is wasted. He will never give me grandchildren now. I have buried one infant and lost one from the womb; the boy that was born after Ganner died of a fever when he was six years old. I know the pain of losing them at all ages, Illyra, and I tell you truly that whatever age your child is taken from you is the worst. But I will bear no more. You are still young-you can have other children."

"What for?" Illyra said harshly. "So that this town can kill them, too?" She sank back upon the silken pillows with which the Aphrodisia House furnished even a sickroom and closed her eyes.

From somewhere on the floor below them came a mocking echo of music. The faded silk of the cushions glowed softly in the afternoon light, but to Gilla they seemed as colorless as everything else had been since that terrible day when so many died. Illyra was right-why give more hostages to malicious fate?

Someone scratched hesitantly at the door. When neither Gilla nor Illyra answered, it opened softly and Myrtis, a little thinner, but as impeccably painted and jeweled as ever, came in.

"How is she today?" She gestured toward the half-S'danzo, who lay with her eyes tightly closed.

Gilla got to her feet and moved heavily to meet the older woman-at least one assumed that Myrtis was older, and today she looked it, as if the spells by which Lythande had preserved her famous beauty were fading too. Molin Torch holder's gold had paid for Illyra's convalescence here, but the famous madam of the 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. "I think 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 only thing there is! After all she's survived, and you, too, are you going to give up and 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. She moved aside and Gilla saw another figure in the doorway behind her, tall, black haired, with a lithe poise that the rich gown she wore so awkwardly could not disguise and an energy that made even Gilla give way as she swept into the room past Myrtis.

"What are you doing? She's not well enough-" Gilla began as the newcomer strode to 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 useless. I need information. My old comrades said you're honest. What will you take to See for me?"

"Nothing." Illyra pulled herself up against the pillows, stony-eyed.

"Oh, no-enough of my comrades came to you in the old days that I know you keep to the traditional rule. If you take my coin you are bound to answer me...." She pulled gold from her pouch and held it out. Furiously, Illyra dashed it from her hand.

"Do you know who I am?" the woman said dangerously.

"I know you. Lady Kama, and there is nothing in Sanctuary that will make me See for you!" She caught her breath on a half-sob. "I could not even if I would. When my-in the riots-my cards were destroyed. I am as blind as any of the rest of you now!" She finished with bitter triumph.

"But I have to know!" Kama said angrily. "I have promised to wed Molin Torchholder, but when I ask him about the ceremony he puts me off with theological caveats. And the Stepsons are taking the Third Commando with them on some mysterious campaign-all my old comrades! I could go with them-I'd rather go with them, but I have to know what I should do!"

Illyra shrugged. "Do what you please."

Considering that Molin Torchholder had taken Illyra's other child away, Gilla thought the S'danzo's reaction to this request from his woman mild.

Kama bent suddenly and gripped Illyra's shoulders. "What does that have to do with it? I've sworn oaths-they still bind me even if the gods aren't listening anymore, and I've lost too much blood in this town to just walk away without knowing why. Do you think I've stopped being a warrior because I'm wearing these?" She twitched angrily at the rich folds of her skirts. "I will have answers, woman, if I have to wring them out of you!"

Illyra shook her head. "Can you wring blood from a stone? Do whatever you like to me-I have no answers anymore."

"There may be no blood left in your veins," Kama said dangerously, "but what about your husband's? I've learned a lot in this cesspool you call home-will you sing the same song when you see me applying some of that knowledge to Dubro?"

"No..." said Illyra faintly. "He has nothing to do with this. You can't make him suffer for me . .."

"Were you somehow under the impression that life is fair?" Kama straightened and stood looking down at her. "I will do whatever I have to do."

Gilla looked from her to Myrtis, who was watching with a faint half-smile. Had the madam of the Aphrodisia House put Kama up to this in an attempt to shake Illyra out of her depression? She could believe it of Myrtis, but she found it hard to imagine Kama cooperating in anyone else's schemes.

"But I cannot..." said Illyra pitifully. "I told you. I have no cards. And I cannot borrow a set-each deck is attuned to the S'danzo who owns it. Mine came to me from my grandmother, and there is no S'danzo craftsman in this town who could paint a new deck for me."

Kama stared at her. Then her gray gaze moved thoughtfully from the S'danzo to Gilla and back again.

"But you know the patterns of the cards-"

Now it was Illyra's turn to stare.

"And her husband is a painter who is said to have certain powers ..." As Kama continued, Gilla read in Illyra's face her own anguished awareness that they both still had hostages to fate.

"Molin Torchholder is the limner's patron. He will order Lalo to come to you, and together you will make a new deck of cards. And then-" Kama's lips twisted in what was intended to be a sweet smile. "Then we will see if there is any magic left in this world."

Lalo pinned another rectangle of stiff vellum to his drawing board. He could feel the tension in his neck and shoulders, and Illyra looked pale, with a sheen of perspiration on her brow. The two cards they had already finished were drying in the sunshine that came through the window.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly through the mask over his mouth he always wore now while working, to keep his breath from accidentally giving life to what he made. "We don't have to do any more today. ..." Even if he had had the energy to continue, he did not think that the S'danzo woman could go on much longer.

"One more..." Illyra winced as she pulled herself upright against the pillows. She was pushing herself. Lalo wondered if she was beginning to feel incomplete without a set of cards, as he always did without drawing materials somewhere at hand, or if she simply wanted to get rid of Kama.