Isidore stiffened a little, falling back into her role. “I am flattered that you would think I am such a woman, Magda, but I am merely her humble servant.”

“You play the role of aide to the spiritist so that you will not have to entertain appeals directly. That insulates you and gives you an easy way to turn people away, saving time and trouble. You work with the gifted, so you need to be able to keep others at arm’s length without having to turn down the appeals directly. More than that, you are empathetic and don’t like to disappoint people, but you have more important work and this small deception enables you to remain focused on that work without the streams of supplicants who would be eager to contact deceased loved ones if word got out that you were a spiritist and you would be willing to help them.”

Isidore sat quietly, hands nested in her lap, not offering any comment.

“I will not betray your secret, Isidore. But there is no one else. You are the spiritist. Your eyes are covered to help hide this world from your vision so that you may look into another world. That is what you do. You look into the spirit world.

“I have helped you to be safe from the dream walkers as you go about your important work. Please, Isidore, my work is important as well. Let’s not play games.”

As Isidore finally released a deep sigh, her posture sagged a bit. She was apparently relieved to no longer have to lie.

“You have it mostly right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is more than a blindfold keeping me from seeing this world.”

Magda reached out and laid a hand over Isidore’s. “Show me.”

As the cat curled up for a warm nap in Magda’s lap, Isidore nodded, then reached up behind her head to the leather thongs holding on the blindfold. When at last it was untied, she slipped it away and sat a bit stiffer, nesting her hands again, letting Magda look at her face.

Isidore’s eyelids were closed over sunken sockets where her eyes should have been. They were not sewn shut. There were no eyelashes. It looked as if she had never had eyes, or as if they had been injured and healed over.

Magda knew better. She knew that Isidore had not been born this way, nor had she been injured.

“How did you lose your eyes?” Magda asked, fearing that she already knew the answer, fearing that this was wizard’s work.

“Is that the question you have come to ask the spiritist?”

“No. It is a question I would ask from one woman to another, because the reason for it greatly concerns me.”

Isidore thought a moment, her head turning blindly as if trying to see Magda.

“My eyes were taken from me so that I could see.”

“You were altered by wizards.”

“Yes.”