They followed the hand through the Bavarian Quarter until it came to the graveyard - and face to face with Lapinette. Bathed in daytime moonlight, she stood directly in the path of the hand. Her paw moved upwards and with a deft gesture, produced a Tarot card. Time seemed to freeze and with it the hand. "Cards or palm?" hissed Lapinette. The hand flipped over and offered a palm creased with lines. "Criss cross." whispered Lapinette, "you have more lines than the Coliseum, more junctions than King's Cross." The hand trembled under Lapinette's searching eyes. "I see a vague musical talent, stretched past its best," murmured Lapinette. The hand twisted in discomfort. The Wabbit watched, powerless to intervene. He glanced at Wabsworth, then at the hand. "Magic," shrugged Wabsworth, staring at Lapinette. Lapinette's voice became silky smooth as she scrutinised every line in the palm. "You must seek another path." The forefinger moved and seemed to inscribe something - like graffiti on an ancient wall. "Yes, you do have a choice," answered Lapinette. "Forget your lines, they're old and tired." The hand dropped to the ground and crawled along the path towards Lapinette. The light of the daylight moon fell on the Tarot card - and now the Wabbit could see it clearly. "The Magician," he breathed ...
