"I might have been able to do it, when I first came here. f was barely a hundred back then. Oh I know it sounds old to you, but it's nothing, nothing. I had a husband whose kisses' kept me young,"

"This is King Texas?" Phoebe said.

The woman's hands dropped back into her lap, and she uttered a shuddering sigh. "No," she said. '-Mis was in the Cosm, in my youth. A

soul I loved far more than I ever loved Texas. And who loved me back, to distraction...... An expression of utter loss crossed her face. "It never passes," she murmured. "Me pain of losing love. It never truly passes. I'm afraid to sleep some nights-Abrd knows; poor Abr6-i'm afraid because when I sleep I dream he,s returned into my arms, and I into his, and the hurt of waking is SO great I can't bear to close my eyes, for fear the dream will come again." She was suddenly weeping, Phoebe saw. Tears pouring down her gouged cbeeks. "Oh Lord, if I had my way I'd unmake love. Wouldn't that be fme?"

"No," Phoebe said softly. "I don't think that would be fine at all."

"You wait until you've outlived all those you care for, or lost them. You wait till all you've got left is a husk and some memories. You'll lie awake the way I do, and pray not to dream." She beckoned to Phoebe.

"Come closer, will You?" she said. "Let me see you a little more clearly."

Phoebe duly moved to the side of the bed. "Abr6, that lamp. Bring it closer. I want to see the face of this woman, who's so in love with love. Better, better." She lifted her hand as if to touch Phoebe's face, then withdrew from the contact. "Are there any new diseases in the Cosm?" she said.

"Yes there are." "Are they terrible?"

"Some of them, yes," Phoebe said, "One of them's very terrible indeed." She remembered Abrd's phrase. "the Cosm's a vale of tears," she said.

"I would dream myself a beauty," she replied, chuckling at the notion.

"I would make myself over as the most fetching woman in Creation, and I would go out in the streets and break every heart I could." The chuckled disappeared. "Do you think I could do that?" she said.

"I... I daresay you could."

"You daresay, do you?" the Mistress responded softly. "Well let me tell you: I could do it as easily as piss. Oh yes. No trouble. I dreamed this city, didn't I?" "Did you?"

"I did! Tell her, my little Abr6!"

"It's true!" Musnakaff replied. "She dreamed this place into being."

"So I could dream myself a fetching woman just as easily." Again, she paused. "But I choose not to. And you know why?"

"Because you don't care?" Phoebe ventured.

The paper the woman was in the middle of tearing I-ell from her fingers.

"Exactly," she said, with great moment. "What's your name? Felicia?"

"Phoebe."

"Even worse."

,i like it," Phoebe replied, her tongue responding before she could check it.

"It's a vile name," the woman said.

"No it isn't."

"If I say it's a vile name, then vile it is. Come here." Phoebe didn't move. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes I heard you, but I don't care to come."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Oh for God's s@tkc, woman, don't take offense at a little remark like that. ['in allowed to be objectionable. I'm old, ugly, and flatulent."

"You don't have to be," Phoebe said.

"Says who?"

"You," Phoebe reminded her, glad she'd had all those years of dealing with obstinate patients. She was damned if she'd allow the harridan to intimidate her. "Two minutes ago, you said-" She caught Musnakaff frantically gesturing t to her, but she'd begun now and it was too late to stop. "You said you could just dream yourself beautiful. So dream yourself young and gasless at the same time."

There was a weighty silence, the Mistress's eyes roving Maniacally. Then she began to chuckle again, the sound escalating into a full-throated laugh. "Oh you believed me, you believed me, you sweet thing," she said. "Do you truly think I would live with this"-she raised her skeletal hands in front of her-"if I had any choice in the matter?"

"So you can't dream yourself beautiful?"

"I might have been able to do it, when I first came here. I was barely a hundred back then. Oh I know it sounds old to You, but it's nothing, nothing. I had a husband whose kisses kept me young."

"This is King Texas?" Phoebe said.

The woman's hands dropped back into her lap, and she uttered a shuddering sigh. "No," she said. "This was in the Cosm, in my youth. A

soul I loved far more than I ever loved Texas. And who loved me back, to distraction...." An expression of utter loss crossed her face. "It never passes," she murmured. "The pain of losing love. It never truly passes. I'm afraid to sleep some ni,,lhts-Abrd knows; poor Abr6-I'm afraid because when I sleep I dream he's returned into my arms, and I into his, and the hurt of waking is so great I can't bear to close my eyes, for fear the dream will come again." She was suddenly weeping, Phoebe saw. Tears pouring down her gouged cheeks. "Oh Lord, if I had my way I'd unmake love. Wouldn't that be fine?"

"No," Phoebe said softly. "I don't think that would be fine at all."

"You wait until you've outlived all those you care for, or lost them. You wait till all you've got left is a husk and some memories. You'll lie awake the way I do, and pray not to dream." She beckoned to Phoebe.

"Come closer, will you?" she said. "Let me see you a little more clearly."

Phoebe duly moved to the side of the bed. "Abr6, that lamp. Bring it closer. I want to see the face of this woman, who's so in love with love. Better, better." She lifted her hand as if to touch Phoebe's face, then withdrew from the contact. "Are there any new diseases in the Cosm?" she said.

"Yes there are."

"Are they terrible?"

"Some of them, yes," Phoebe said, "One of them's very terrible indeed," She remembered Abr6's phrase. 'The Cosm's a vale of tears," she said.

It did the trick. The Mistress smiled. "There," she said, turning to Abr6. "Isn't that what I always say?"

"That's what you say," Musnakaff replied. "No wonder you fled it," the woman said, turning her attention back to Phoebe.

111 didn't-"

"What?" "Flee. I didn't flee. I came because there's somebody here I want to find."

"And who might that be?"

"My... lover."

The Mistress regarded her pityingly. "So you're here for love?" she said.

"Yes," Phoebe replied. "Before you ask, his name's Joe."

"I had no intention of asking," the Mistress rasped.

"Well I told you anyhow. He's somewhere out there at sea. And I've come to find him."

"You'll fail," the harridan said, making no attempt to disguise her satisfaction at the thought. "You know what's going on out there, I presume?" "Vaguely."

"Then you surely know there's no chance of finding him. He's probably already dead." "I know that's not true," Phoebe said. "How can you know?" the Mistress said. "Because I was here in a dream. I met him, out there in Quiddity." She dropped her voice a little, for dramatic effect. "We made love." "In the sea?" "In the sea."

"You actually coupled in Quiddity?" Musnakaff said. "Yes.

The Mistress had picked up a sheet of paper from the bed-it was covered, Phoebe saw, with line upon line of spidery handwriting-and proceeded to tear it up. "Such a thing," she said, half to herself. "Such a thing."

"Is there any way you can help me?" Phoebe said.

it was Musnakaff who replied. "I'm afraid-"

He got no further. "Maybe," the Mistress said. "The sea doesn't speak. But there are those in it that do." She had reduced the first sheet of paper to litter, and now picked up a second. "What would I get in return?" she asked Phoebe.

"How about the truth?" Phoebe replied.