"Please," said Merlin softly to the Romany man who was packing trunks into his wagon. There was an intensity in his tone that made the man look up.

"Please, I was here yesterday. A woman who was here with you, gave me this amulet yesterday. I... I need to speak to her again."

Merlin's heart sank as the man shook his head softly.

"It's very important," he pleaded touching the man's sleeve.

"I cannot say if you will see her again. I have no way to control what my mother chooses to do." The man laughed softly and went back to loading boxes carefully into the wagon.

"But she is here with you, isn't she? " Merlin paused for a second. The woman he remembered was still young, still in her twenties. He would have thought she was this man's wife or sister. He dismissed the thought. His need for Freya drove him forward, just as it had possessed him since the moment the amulet had touched his palm.

"Please," Merlin said more strongly. "I do not wish to hurt you or your mother. She gave me this and I need some answers, I mean, I have many questions."

"Good luck with that," the man replied under his breath, as he placed the final trunk into the wagon, with the pride of a man who had just completed a complex puzzle. He smiled at Merlin. His eyes were the same lucent amber that the servant remembered from the woman with whom he had spoken with the night before. There was a mysterious glint of mirth in them, but no hint of danger or of ill will, a familiar kinship. He began to hope.

"My mother is a romantic," he said, still smiling. "Be content she left it at that, young sorcerer, " the man said, leaning in to whisper his last words into Merlin's ear.

"Do not question further, I warn you."

Merlin's heart sank in hopelessness and he felt a surge of frustration at the same time. As he turned away, the warlock felt strongly that if he simply stayed close, the man's 'mother' would shortly appear. The tinker's replies made little sense to Merlin, but he took hope from the fact that the man freely acknowledged that he knew the woman and that she been there yesterday. Well, he hadn't actually said that, thought Merlin, trying to caution himself. But he hadn't denied he knew her either. He focused his thoughts back on finding the woman before the Romany caravan left.

He peered around a corner, pausing. His need to find Freya rose to choke him, In his heart he pleaded with whatever powers existed to help him find her once more. It was a a plea of desperation, it was hopelessness fueled by the love that drove him.

Then he heard the familiar question, like a refrain, and for a moment he wondered if it was truly a voice in the street or only an illusion.

"Tell your fortune, sir?"

Moving quickly, he was beside her in an instant. He reached out to touch her, but his hand slipped through hers, his hand scattering silvery motes. Her smile deepened as she looked him. Comprehension dawned in his eyes suddenly.

"Did you not guess, Merlin?"

He reached out his hand again, but this time, even though he knew she was a ghost, he encountered a solid presence. His magic sang coldly. She seemed like a ghost, but his magic tingled in a way he never before recalled. He looked at her in confusion for a moment, hardly knowing where to begin, but before the questions could pour from his lips, she touched them lightly with an out stretched fingertip. It was like the smallest bite of lightning, and Merlin somehow knew it was better not to struggle.

In the depths in the clear eyes of the ghost before him, he wondered how he would ever find the truth. And then for a thunderous, wild moment all he could think of was Freya.

Memory possessed him. Everything came pouring back to him, every detail. He had been alone so long, that some days he could not trust his memories. Could it be that her smile had really been so sweet, so completely piercing? Could anyone have actually looked into the eyes of the awkward frightened boy he had been and seen him as entirely wonderful?

And yet, there were other days, other nights, long, terrible, wonderful nights, when he could see the breathless sweetness of her eyes, feel the whispering touch of her lashes as she brushed his cheek with her lips. If he held his breath, he could feel the slight tremor of her hand in his. Freya. And just as it had in the long ago spring rain, his heart started to beat wildly,

But that was all it was. Memories. Precious as jewels, empty as the ashes of yesterday. Until this very same Romany woman who stood before him had slipped the amulet into his hand with her disconcerting words. And now, perhaps this was his last chance to communicate with Freya, to find her again into whatever realm of magic her spirit had found a haven.

"Please!"

Merlin's voice choked on the word; the spell of the gypsy woman snapped with a spark of silver. The woman continued to smile but her eyes grew sad as she looked up at the dark haired young man. She was very beautiful, beyond her eyes was an almost numinous glow.

Encouraged, he began to speak very softly. "I'm begging. I'm asking you, please. If you see my lady," he paused, "give her this." He handed her a small white leather pouch, the ties,dangling with a small clear crystal.

I cannot say, young Emrys," she said quietly, as if she was trying not to disappoint the boy who stood before her., "I have no way of knowing if I will see your lady again. There are many mysteries, many pathways, that even I cannot see."

"Then take it with you," he answered firmly, passionately, "and if you do not see her, perhaps you will think of me and remember."

"Remember what?"

"Sometimes I'm not so sure anymore," he said softly. He opened his mouth as if to speak again.

"Then I will help you," the woman said softly. And with that phrase, her eyes glowed gold, her left hand held up in a warding gesture. Merlin reeled, taking a breath, as if an in sudden shock, and the world around him spun into another reality.