Solomon's lips quirked humourlessly as Paddy talked almost to himself, and then talked himself out of getting an answer before Solomon could refuse it. Solomon answered anyway. "You're forgetting I can see your state of being. Believe me, there are some things which won't help you to know right now."

But there might be something Solomon could do for him, he realised suddenly, and looked at Paddy more directly. He had managed to influence Corrival to some degree. He had managed to touch China's soul. He'd soothed Ghastly's emotional pain. Why couldn't he do the same for Paddy?

"You did," Solomon agreed a little absently. He'd never put much stock in talking over one's problems, but every time he spoke to Paddy, even when he didn't come to a perfect solution, he felt more on an even keel. He still didn't agree with the man's perception that he would or should start leading people in a spiritual manner, but he knew more about what might happen. If war was possible, there should be something they could do to prepare--to minimise it, if nothing else.

Paddy's soul was still hot enough to make the plants look withered and ragged, as if sand-lashed. The water's level hadn't lessened at all, but there was only so much it could do against the heat. Solomon hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hand, palm up, just short of touching one of the fronds.

"May I ...?"