He set down the empty bowl. Well, he was through with the last part. He was going to take the knife back to the cemetery, tonight. Somehow he was sure that would get the Gypsy out of his mind.
THREE
The Gypsy and the Wolf
Beasts and demons laugh and yell.
The lonely midwife sings;
They dance around like puppets,
But the Lady works the strings.
"THE FAIR LADY"
Cigany left the diner without paying; simply got up and walked out before they noticed him, turned the corner around a building and was gone. He was cleaner, though he wished he could jump into a river,and there were two pieces of tasteless chicken in his stomach along with a great deal of city water.
As he walked, scenes from his most recent past began to return to him. The holding tank, for one; where they put you before they knew where to put you. That, he had figured out. He wasn't certain how he had escaped it, or what the cost had been. Moreover,he wasn't certain why they had arrested him. He didn't think he'd done anything, but, then, it was always like that. A pal from Ireland once sang him a song about being born in the wrong place. He smiled at the memory. But he, Cigany, had been born in the right place, and then had left. Why?
His head began to hurt, and he reached for, for something he couldn't remember. Pills of some sort?He had had this sort of headache before, he knew; in fact, now that he thought of it, he almost remembered getting it every time he ate-that strange pulsing in his head, and then his vision would waver, and then the pain.
He shook his head. Ignore the pain. There was something he had to do, he knew that. He'd been trying to do it for so many years that he could no longer estimate the decades that had passed. But what was it? Had it been so long that he'd forgotten his mission? He had promised to do something, he knew that. He took a deep breath, brushed his mustaches, and-
–And realized that his knife was missing.
He began to tremble.
Of course it was missing, the police had taken it.Why was he so upset? What was it about the knife?He knew that it could protect him, but-
It had killed. While out of his possession, someone,who didn't know what he had, had allowed it to kill. That meant that there was an enemy who knew that he, Cigany, didn't have it, and that he was vulnerable, and the enemy had killed a friend.
He leaned against the wall, and he wondered who his enemy was. He almost knew. Was it his brother in the vision? No, his brothers were scattered, lost. The enemy was the one who had been preventing him from completing his mission for so long.
What mission? What enemy? He ducked behind abuilding, squatted there, and tried to think. His head throbbed, like his skull was being split with an ax.
It had snowed, not too long before, and then melted,although he hadn't noticed it at the time. But there was water dripping from the gutter, and it formed a puddle on the paved ground, perhaps a foot wide.
Cigany felt his mouth become dry again. Here he was going off to find his knife, and, because he didn't have it, he hardly dared to go. He stood up and waited for several minutes until the moon was in the proper place over his shoulder. It wasn't quite full,but he thought it might be close enough. He stepped forward once with his left foot, once with his right,and again with his left, the last landing him squarely in the puddle.
The Fair Lady looks up, suddenly, seeing before Her a figure all of fire, with one leg that of a goose and the opposite arm that of a horse. She puts down Her knitting and smiles sweetly. "Yes, what is it?" Her voice is the tinkling of fine crystal, with a very faint echo if you listen closely. Her face is young. Her eyes are old, and they reflect the firelight; Her hair and skin are fair. There is a crown of candles on Her head, making folds in the skin of Her forehead. There are nine candles, but three of them have gone out.
"Fair Lady," says the liderc. "Someone is coming."
"Coming? Here? A visitor?"
"Indeed, yes, mistress."
"Well, who can it be?"
"A mortal, fair mistress. A Gypsy."
"But his name," She says gently. "Don't you know his name?"
"I do not, for he knows it not."
"Ah, well he may attend me then. "
"It shall be as you wish, most precious one, " says the liderc, and rushes to admit the visitor.
He stands before Her, and his black eyes reflect the firelight too, so that for a moment they seem to be kin, and She says, "Well, little boy, what is it you want of me?"
He says, "You have my memories, Luci, and I will have them back."
"Your memories? What would I do with them?"
"Keep me from completing my task," he says.
"But what is your task, little boy?"
"I don't know, for you have taken my memories. And my knife, Luci, return me my knife. "
"How is it you know to come here without your memories? And how is it you dare without your knife?" The nora thinks this very funny and begins to laugh. The Fair Lady cuffs him without rancor, and he scampers away on his arms and legs, like an ape.
"If I do have these things, little boy," says the Fair Lady, "why should I return them?"
"Because if you don't, I shall find the calk from a Coachman's whip and send you back to your home below the earth."
The Fair Lady laughs, "Well, little boy, you have found your task. But I fear it is too late to find your knife, for it has killed the only one who could have set you on the path. And it is far, far too late for a calk to help you. And since you have come here unguarded, there is no reason to let you leave at all." With that, she lifts the bellows and begins to work them, and he suddenly finds that he cannot breathe.He struggles, but to no avail, until, at last, he pulls from his pocket an oddly formed lump of grey metal, which was made by pouring molten lead into holy water, and he throws this at Her, and She cries out, and-
–Cigany fell backward against the building, taking many deep breaths. For several minutes he stood there, wondering if the dream had been real. He checked his pocket, but the lead was gone, although he still had his key, and a scrap of paper which he now remembered had something to do with his headaches, although he couldn't remember the spell nor understand the symbols. But, hadn't the police taken these things before? He couldn't remember. He shrugged. He hoped he could do without it. His headache seemed to be receding.
Whatever had happened, it had taken a long time;it was now fully dark. When he felt strong enough,he pushed away from the wall, not sure where he was going, but needing to walk. Somewhere, not too far off, a siren wailed. He winced and continued through the back streets. The night brought with it a slight chill, but he scarcely noticed.
After a while he realized that he had been here before. Yes. The cemetery. Why have my feet brought me this way? he wondered. He remembered the ghost,and wondered if someone else had died yet, allowing her to rest- Poor child. So young. But she had died of the wasting disease, and that was the work of a liderc if anything was, and the liderc was a creature of Luci, the Fair Lady, who dwelt below the world, with the dark sun and the dark moon to light Her dark ways.
What had allowed Her to reach the middle world,with the half sun and the half moon? And how had it become his, Cigany's, job to return Her to where She belonged?
He stopped in his tracks. Suddenly there was a Wolf before him, blocking his path, bristling- He shook his head to clear it, and saw that it was only a man. The man was staring at him, shocked. Cigany wondered if he were the last to die, who had released the girl.
But another step closer and he recognized him,even without his uniform, and his mouth became dry and his heart beat very fast within his breast.