Bill and Alice and I talked. I told them I was a comeback. They asked what it was like. I told them it was far better than the twenty-first, the last good time. When Alice joined the others, I showed Bill the clothes in the paper bag, stockings, silk blouse, skirt, underthings. High-heeled shoes, the kind I never wear, never have worn. They were way too small for me, but I remembered them on Bill’s tiny feet. The fleece was in there, soft and new now, not the way it would be when I cut the boots out of it. I said I’d found the sack on the pier, and I guessed I’d throw them away. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the bag after that. I kept fighting down the urge to tell Bill I loved him. That would have confused him utterly.
The day wore on. Janice clung to Martin, not even noticing me. The whales spewed and basked, and Jaybee ran his cameras. He had one that went underwater, like a tiny submarine, guided from a little TV screen with controls. The man running the boat stayed up front and paid no attention to any of us.
All the time I kept arguing with Puck in my head. He had chided me for wanting vengeance. Father Raymond would have said that vengeance belongs to God. I told myself it wasn’t vengeance, and it wasn’t for myself. It was for some other innocent person. Then I’d argue with myself some more. If Jaybee hadn’t been there, right in front of me, I might have talked myself out of it. Every time he looked up at me, though, it was with that dead-eyed, death-making arrogance, an expression that said he was above any law, outside any commandment. It made me hurt inside. Each time I fought down the notion of what I was going to do, he made it come back more strongly.
Finally, I couldn’t fight it anymore. When the boat turned back toward land, I asked Bill to introduce me to Jaybee.
Bill said, “Jaybee, here’s a comeback lady wants to meet you. She thinks you’re fascinating.”
“I didn’t say that,” I bridled. “I said I thought his photography was fascinating.”
Jaybee looked up at me and sneered. He didn’t care about old women. He was kneeling on the deck, busy packing up his cameras.
“Be nice, Jaybee,” Martin said. He was a handsome man, a bit older than the others. He had that power that some men have, of being always center stage, no matter who else is there. He wore boots and a complicated jacket with many pockets. “Be nice.”
“I’m busy,” Jaybee snarled. “No time for chitchat.”
“Bill and Martin tell me you’re a fine photographer,” I said.
“There’s never been a better one,” he said, peering at me, seeing nothing there to interest him, letting his eyes drop away. “I’m good. I’m very good.”
“You use oculum root, then, I suppose.”
“Never heard of it,” he snorted.
“Oculum root?” Bill laughed. “Sounds like a sneeze. What is it?”
I acted surprised. “You don’t know about it? Really? I thought all the really great photographers used it. Not that it isn’t a bit risky, but all the biggies seem willing to take the risk.”
“Oculum root?” Martin frowned. “I think I’ve heard of it.” He hadn’t, of course, but he was that kind of man. He ran one hand along the side of a boot, polishing it. Janice put her hand on his and mooned at him.
“For sharpness of vision,” I said. “Sometimes it’s called hawkeye root. It lets the human eye see things in a new, fresh way.”
“I’d love to try something that did that,” Bill laughed. “But I confess I’ve never heard of it.”
“Well, of course,” I said, as though surprised at my own stupidity. “Of course, you haven’t heard of it. It doesn’t exist in the twenty-first. Because of Fidipur.”
“Oculum root,” he said.
“It’s rare, even now,” I said, getting off the rail where I’d been perched and dusting my hands. “I understand the supply is extremely limited. Pity. With oculum root, you’d probably be exceptionally good.” Then I went off to look over the opposite rail, leaving Jaybee glaring after me. He might not remember. If he didn’t remember, well and good. If he didn’t remember, and if he gave up trying to find Beauty, nothing would happen. I’d go home. That’s the bargain I’d made with myself. It was really up to him.
When we got back ashore, I went off up the pier empty-handed. I had already seen Bill wearing the clothes in the twenty-first, so I knew he would take them with him.
I found an unoccupied alley nearby where I could put on the boots. I told them to take me to Faery. There was a whirling blackness that seemed to go on too long. Then it cleared, showing me the landscape under the evening sky. It was almost the same as I remembered, the blue sky, the spangled stars, the flower-sequined grass. It was more shadowy than before. There were no palaces. No people. From the woods against the mountains came a faroff howling, totally inhuman, with a tone to it that sent a shiver of pure terror up my back. I stayed just long enough to find two of the hairy-stemmed herbs Mama had squeezed into my eyes. They came up easily, soil clinging to their roots. I told the boots to take me to Wisdom Street. The same whirling darkness happened again.
When I got back to the house on Wisdom Street, Puck was waiting for me.
“That was foolish,” he whispered to me.
“What was?” I asked him stupidly.
“You went into Faery,” he said. “It doesn’t take much magic to get there, Beauty. Not now. There’s not much of Faery left, and what is left is very close, because it doesn’t belong to us anymore.
