The Gypsy took a step towards Clemens and stared deep into his brown eyes.

“The knife and the Presence are intertwined. To know about the knife, you must ask your… ‘Guest’ the questions.” Clemens smelled something on her breath, he wasn’t sure if it was garlic or old age.

“I’ve asked him over and over, and each time I do,he becomes more agitated,” he stepped back away from her and looked sideways at Horace.

“Ya, he gits all crazy and stuff”, Horace said, Clemens could see Horace tracing the lines of his brass knuckles in his pocket, and hoped they would stay where they were.
“If ya can’t tell us, what can ya do?” Horace asked her, fidgeting and trying to hide the facial tick.

“I can ask the Presence within him directly.” Looking at Clemens she said," I take it you can’t talk to it, only share feelings?", she looked smug, and cackled a bit and turned in a few circles, ending up back near the stairs to her wagon.
Clemens felt the whirling dervish come alive in his stomach, and he strained to control it.