But abruptly, as Si'Wren turned from smiling at Sorpiala in order to include Nelatha in the conversation, she was struck dumb with shock by the stark, thinly veiled terror in Nelatha's trapped-looking eyes. After betraying that one warning look to Si'Wren, Nelatha bent over her work and pretended not to be aware of anything around her, especially anything in the direction of Sorpiala.
Si'Wren looked back at Sorpiala again quickly, blinking rapidly in confusion.
"Fear not," soothed Sorpiala, reaching to stroke Si'Wren's cheek gently with her fingertips. "I have heard of the Invisible God. Does he not watch over all the world and even ourselves at this very moment?"
"Aye," Si'Wren nodded doubtfully, casting her round eyes from Sorpiala's curiously reassuring countenance, to Nelatha, who, looking sick at heart, seemed ready to die of fear on the very spot.
Si'Wren suddenly wished that Nelatha would stop worrying. Could Nelatha not see how loving and faithful Sorpiala was, both to them and to this Invisible God?
"Don't work too hard, Nelatha," Sorpiala said, and then let out a funny little laugh. "Remember; the Invisible God is always watching every move, and hears every word. Bye-bye, girls."
"Bye, Sorpiala," said Si'Wren, smiling fondly.
But Nelatha did not return the farewell, and when Sorpiala was gone, Si'Wren stood motionless for a long time, as motionless as any dumb graven idol, as she struggled with some nameless, faceless inner turmoil in her effort to take proper stock of the situation.
Why was Nelatha so troubled, and so unwilling to so much as speak of it?
* * *