Stepovich leaned against the door, staring into the tank. He wasn't there. And he should be hurrying to report that to someone, to ask if he'd been kicked loose by mistake, if he'd been taken somewhere for questioning. But instead all he could feel was the hanging weight of the knife in the back of his jacket lining.

The Lady smiles when she looks into your face

She open up her arms for you. awaiting your embrace.

"THE FAIR LADY"

The Fair Lady is hard at work, knitting a scarf. It must be pretty, or no one will wish to pick it up, and it must be strong, to snare a soul. When it is done, she might cook a broth in which to boil the purity of a maiden, or craft bellows with which to create a storm to wreck ships. She has done these things for a thousand thousand years, and she takes no less care then she ever has. At her side sits a bald-headed nora. In front of her stands a mother who has killed her own child in order to become a midwife. The Fair Lady rocks before her hearth, in which burn the bones of those she has caused to die before their time, and she is content.

"Well?" she says.

The midwife, all a-tremble, says, "Here it is, mistress. " The midwife hands the Fair Lady a lock of grey hair.

The Lady inspects it carefully, and grants the midwife an approving smile. "It will do," she says. "Did the old woman suspect?"

"No, mistress. She never saw me."

"Then how did you get this?"

"I bribed the bellboy to let me into the room, and I too kit while she slept."

"Very well. You are resourceful, my dear. Go back to your knitting, now."

"What must I knit, mistress?"

"A veil to confuse the sight of an old woman. With this lock of her hair, it should not be difficult."

"Very well, mistress. It will be done-" she pauses, confused. She cannot say when it will be done, because she no longer understands the passing of time. The Fair Lady grants her another smile, however, and she is content.

Old woman, your hands are thin,

And I think as scarred as mine.

Old woman, is this all a lark,

Or is it how you spend your time?

Old woman, they tell me here

What you do is called a crime.

Old woman, your predictions

Aren't worth a copper dime.

"BLACKENED FACE"

She woke with her hands in her hair as if she'd lost a comb, not realizing what had wakened her. A glance at the old wind-up alarm clock told her that it was too early to be leaving to see her sister, and what could it be?

The Sight was a rare gift, and one that could come or go at its own whim, so she should not have been surprised that at first she didn't recognize it. There had been so many years, so many roads, so much living. Yet, after all of that, here it was. Hardly surprising that she didn't know, at first, what had caused her to wake from her afternoon nap, or why she felt that vague, undefined, yet familiar disquiet that was located somewhere below her heart.

She sat up in the narrow motel bed and looked once more at the clock. Sitting up was often the most difficult thing she did all day. Once she had been frightened by the way her heart sped up, but now she accepted it, as she had accepted each day since-

Ah, there it was.

She knew it for a Seeing because it brought to her the memory of those dark, haunted, condemning eyes. Shirt open to the middle, baggy pants tied around the ankles, dark curly hair, strong hands, yes,she remembered that one, and it was something about him that had awakened her. The Sight then. She accepted it without amazement, and with only a little pleasure, for she had lived enough to know that knowledge is a burden exactly as often as it is a blessing.

She got out of bed, stepped over her pile of knitting, and put on her torn quilted blue robe. The suitcase, small, brown, handle missing and one snap broken, was under the bed. Inside it was a cedar box,inlaid with knotwork similar to Celtic, though perhaps not as finely detailed and with a bit more baroque filigree work. Inside the box, folded in red satin,was a two-inch length of quartz crystal. It was about half an inch thick, with a small chip out of one side,and felt very slightly cool as she held it between thumb and forefinger. The quartz had been given her at a fair somewhere in New England, by a customer who had liked the reading she'd given him. Tarot,she thought, or perhaps the leaves. But he'd been a nice young man, with eyes that were unusually innocent for this time and place, and the crystal always carried a certain part of the nice young man, which was why she used it. If she had realized then that she'd come to like it so much, she'd have asked him of its history, but most likely he'd bought it at a museum or something, so it was just as well she didn't.

My mind is wandering again. Must stop that.

She worked herself into the stuffed chair the hotel provided, and stared idly at the crystal. She turned it with her fingers, and wondered about the man in baggy pants with a scarf around his head, the man who had stumbled into her life and out again, so quickly, so long ago. Who had he been, she wondered once more. There had been that mark on him,even then, that said he would become part of her life in some way. If anything, she was surprised it had taken so long. What sort of difficulty was he in? The police? Did it have anything to do with an old policeman with grey eyes and a wide jaw, holding a knife?The knife was probably important, although not in any obvious way, perhaps only in that the policeman thought it was. Who was the policeman, and why was he so confused about which side he was on?Should she look for him, or for him? And how should she begin to look, if she chose to do so? Perhaps she ought to begin with Little Philly, and check hotels there, especially one facing the sunrise, with a narrow street where the curbs were broken and there was a motorcycle shop with a long crack in its window, and several young men sitting protectively in front. And perhaps she should do so soon-before the brothers failed to come together, or coming together, found themselves paralyzed by ignorance.

Yes.

She rolled the crystal between her palms. It was rather like a bullet, in shape. Interesting that this should occur to her. Her mouth became dry, and there was a moment of fear, of a palpitating heart. She had become more and more aware of her heart over the last few years, more conscious of its strength and weakness. She would probably know before it gave out, which might be good or bad. It wasn't about to give out now.

She got dressed slowly, her mind racing, her thoughts unfocused. In her left earlobe she put two thin silver hoops, in her right she put three smaller ones. A skull ring went over her little finger because she had worn it the first time she'd seen him. About her neck she fastened a lapis lazuli on a gold chain. Her dress was conservative and pale yellow, with alight blue shawl. She studied herself in the mirror,looking for traces of the future and finding none. At last she called for a cab.

What is your desire?

Fame. or love. or gold?

It's there in your hand, my friend.

But answer if you can, my friend

What are you reaching out to hold?

"THE FAIR LADY"