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If she were the real thing, I knew what it was--perception at a level a TK can t match. The real healers feel the nerves themselves. I d been worked on before. The more hysterical healers, some really creepy witches, had given me some signs of relief, but none could ever find the real weak place, as she called it. She was mumbling to herself. I guess you could call it an incantation. I got a picture of a nubile waif, too freakish to fit where she d been raised. What had her Hegira been like? In what frightful places had she found herself welcome? From her talk, it could have been an Ozark backwater. I didn t want to know what backwoods crone had taught her some mnemonic rendition of the Devil s Litany. Her hands passed up beyond my shoulder, to my neck.