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.