She flicked an ash onto the floor.

"Your problem?" she suggested.

He sighed.

"Oh, I don't really have a problem anyone can helpme with. Look, I think I made a mistake coming in here.I'll pay you for your trouble, though, just as if you'dgiven me a reading. How much is it?"

He began to reach for his wallet, but she raised her- hand.

"Is it that you do not believe in such things?" sheasked, her eyes scrutinizing his face.

"No, quite the contrary," he replied. "I am willing tobelieve in magic, divination and all manner of spells andsendings, angelic and demonic. But—"

"But not from someone in a dump like this?"

He smiled.

"No offense," he said.

A whistling sound filled the air. It seemed to comefrom the next room back."That's all right," she said, "but my water is boiling.I'd forgotten it was on. Have some tea with me? I dowash the cups. No charge. Things are slow."

"All right."

She rose and departed.

He glanced at the door to the front but eased himselfback into his chair, resting his large, blue-veined bandson its padded arms. He sniffed then, nostrils fiaring, andcocked his head as at some half-familiar aroma.

After a time, she returned with a tray, set it on thecoffee table. The cat stirred, raised her head, blinked atit, stretched, closed her eyes again.

"Cream and sugar?"

"Please. One lump."

She placed two cups on the table before him.

'Take either one," she said.

He smiled and drew the one on his left toward him.She placed an ashtray in the middle of the table and returned to her own seat, moving the other cup to her place.

"That wasn't necessary," he said, placing his hands onthe table.

She shrugged.

"You don't know me. Why should you trust me?Probably got a lot of money on you."

He looked at her face again. She bad apparentlyremoved some of the heavier makeup while in the back.room. The jawline, the brow ... He looked away. He took a sip of tea.

"Good tea. Not instant," be said. "Thanks.""So you believe in all sorts of magic,'* she asked, sipping her own."Some," he said."Any special reason why?**"Some of it works.""For example?"

He gestured aimlessly with his left hand."I've traveled a lot. I've seen some strange things.""And you have no problems?"

He chuckled-

"Still determined to give me a reading? All right. IIItell you a little about myself and what I want right now,and you can tell me whether 111 get it. Okay?"

"I'm listening.""I am a buyer for a large gallery in the Bast I amsomething of an authority on ancient work in preciousmetals. I am in town to attend an auction of such itemsfrom the estate of a private collector. I will go to inspectthe pieces tomorrow. Naturally, I hope to find somethinggood. What do you think my chances are?"

"Give me your hands."

He extended them, palms upward. She leaned forward and regarded them. She looked back up at himimmediately.

"Your wrists have more rascettes than I can counti"

*'Yours seem to have quite a few, also."

She met his eyes for only a moment and returned herattention to his hands. He noted that she had paled beneath what remained of her makeup, and her breathingwas now irregular.

"No," she finally said, drawing back, "you are notgoing to find here what you are looking for."

Her hand trembled slightly as she raised her teacup.He frowned.

"I asked only in jest," he said. "Nothing to get upsetabout. I doubted I would find what I am really lookingfor, anyway."

She shook her head.

*TelI me your name."

"I've lost my accent," he said, "but I'm French. Thename is DuLac."

She stared into his eyes and began to blink rapidly.

"No ..." she said. "No."

"I'm afraid so. What's yours?"

"Madam LeFay, she said. "I just repainted that sign.It's still drying."

He began to laugh, but it froze in his throat

"Now—I know—who—you remind me of... .**

"You reminded me of someone, also. Now I, too,know."

Her eyes brimmed, her mascara ran.

"It couldn't be," he said. "Not here... . Not in a placelike this. ..."

"You dear man," she said softly, and she raised hisright hand to her lips. She seemed to choke for a moment,then said, "I had thought that I was the last, and yourself buried at Joyous Gard. I never dreamed ..." Then,"This?" gesturing about the room. "Only because itamuses me, helps to pass the time. The waiting—**She stopped. She lowered his hand.

'Tell me about it," she said.

"The waiting?" he said. "For what do you wait?"

"Peace," she said. "I am here by the power of my arts,through all the long years. But you—How did you manage it?"

"I—" He took another drink of tea. He looked aboutthe room. "I do not know how to begin," he said. "I survived the final battles, saw the kingdom sundered, coulddo nothing—and at last departed England- I wandered,taking service at many courts, and after a time undermany names, as I saw that I was not aging—or agingvery, very slowly. I was in India, China—I fought in theCrusades. I've been everywhere. I've spoken with magicians and mystics—most of them charlatans, a few withthe power, none so great as Merlin—and what had cometo be my own belief was confirmed by one of them, aman more than half charlatan, yet ..." He paused andfinished his tea. "Are you certain you want to hear allthis?" he asked.

"I want to bear it. Let me bring more tea first, though."

She returned with the tea. She lit a cigarette and leanedback.

"Go on."

"I decided that it was—my sin," he said. "with . . ,the Queen."

"I don't understand."

"I betrayed my Liege, who was also my friend, in theone thing which must have hurt him most. The love Ifelt was stronger than loyalty or friendship—and eventoday, to this day, it still is. I cannot repent, and so Icannot be forgiven. Those were strange and magicaltimes. We lived in a land destined to become myth.Powers walked the realm in those days, forces which arenow gone from the earth. How or why, I cannot say. Butyou know that it is true. I am somehow of a piece withthose gone things, and the laws that rule my existence arenot normal laws of the natural world. I believe that Icannot die; that it has fallen my lot, as punishment, towander the world till I have completed the Quest. I believe I will only know rest the day I find the Holy Grail.Giuseppe Balsamo, before he became known as Cagliostro,somehow saw this and said it to me just as I had thoughtit, though I never said a word of it to him. And so Ihave traveled the world, searching. I go no more asknight, or soldier, but as an appraiser. I have been innearly every museum on Earth, viewed ail the great private collections. So far, it has eluded me."

"You are getting a little old for battle."

He snorted.

"I have never lost," he stated flatly. "Down ten centuries, I have never lost a personal contest. It is true thatI have aged, yet whenever I am threatened all of myformer strength returns to me. But, look where I may,fight where I may, it has never served me to discoverthat which I must find. I feel I am unforgiven and mustwander like the Eternal Jew until the end of the world."^ She lowered her head.

"... And you say I will not find it tomorrow?"

"You will never find it," she said softly.

"You saw that in my hand?"

She shook her head.

"Your story is fascinating and your theory novel,"she began, "but Cagliostro was a total charlatan. Something must have betrayed your thoughts, and he madea shrewd guess. But he was wrong. I say that youwill never find it, not because you are unworthy or unforgiven. No, never that. A more loyal subject thanyourself never drew breath. Don't you know that Arthurforgave you? It was an arranged marriage. The samething happened constantly elsewhere, as you must know.You gave her something he could not. There was onlytenderness there. He understood. The only forgivenessyou require is that which has been withheld all theselong years—your own. No, it is not a doom that hasbeen laid upon you. It is your own feelings which ledyou to assume an impossible quest, something tantamount to total unforgiveness. But you have suffered allthese centuries upon the wrong trail."