As Geo raised himself, Urson stood up too. "Look," he said to Argo, "he needs the rest more than any of us. If you want to question him about rituals and spells, take Iimmi. He knows just as much as Geo."
"I need a poet," smiled Argo, "not a student. I need one who has suffered as he has. Come."
"Wait," Urson said. He picked the jewel from Geo's chest where Snake had returned it when they entered the chapel. "You better leave this with me."
Geo frowned.
"It still may be a trap," said Urson.
"Leave it with him," suggested Argo, "if it eases him."
Geo let the great hand lift the thong from his neck.
"Now come with me," said Argo.
They left the room and walked back through the chapel to the door. Argo stood in the entrance, looking down at the molten rock. The light sifted through her robe, leaving the darker outline of her body. Without turning, she began to speak. "The fire is a splendid symbol for life, do you agree?"
"And for death," said Geo. "One of Aptor's fires burned my arm away."