Many a man and many a woman had ascended the stair to her abode in the hope that she could work miracles for them. Most wanted love potions, or draughts to bring them wealth. Some wanted poisons. The rare few wanted something extraordinary, and they themselves always bore a special lustre. This black-eyed wanderer was one of them.
"It is as you have heard, I can help you find your heart's desire." She was prepared for his request; from the folds of her dress she took the compass, which she opened, and cast onto the table like dice.
He advanced a step or two to peer at the unfocused needle. "It doesn't point north," he said, his eyes quizzical.
"Is north what you desire most? Pick it up."
He took the compass in his rope-roughened hand and she watched him stare fascinated at the swinging needle. As it found its heading, the glimmerings of a smile, a real smile, not the brittle calculated-to-charm grin he had bestowed upon her when he first arrived, graced his lips. For the first time in years, she knew, he had a link to that which he had lost.