She pointed at the next card, this one lying directly downcloth from the first two. “The Ten of Swords is the basis of the situation. It means broken goals and deep distress lie at the heart of the matter.”
“Perhaps it’s why the city was abandoned,” suggested Lissa.
Aylis shook her head. “No; ’tis more likely goals the King of Swords had.”
“Well, could not that king once have ruled the city?” asked Dokan.
“Perhaps,” said Aylis. “Yet the King is what crosses us now, and though that might be something rooted in the distant past, I think instead the broken goals refers to events more recent.”
Moving deasil and to the left of the first two, at the following card she said, “Behind us is what has gone before: still more conflict, as is shown by the Chariot, which placed as it is represents a triumph in the past. Mayhap in battle or war.”
“The Black Fortress?” murmured Aravan.
“Perhaps,” said Aylis, “though it could be the War of the Dragonstone or even triumph over Gyphon, or even any one of the many conflicts and struggles upon the Planes. It is unclear as to which triumph it represents, though given the number of swords, I deem it lies in war.”
“Say on, my love,” said Aravan.
Yet moving deasil, Aylis pointed to the card lying directly upcloth from the first two. “Justice is next, and, as it lies, it means possible loss, which could come into being.”
Brekk growled and said, “My Châkka warband will see that it doesn’t.”
“Wait a moment, now,” protested Binkton. “Your warband includes two Warrows and a Pysk.”
Brekk’s hawklike gaze swept to Binkton, then to Pipper, and finally to Lissa. Then he smiled at Binkton and said, “Forgive the omission?”
“Well, er, aye-aye, Armsmaster,” said Binkton, now mollified.
When none said ought else, Aylis moved to the next card. “The Knight of Swords follows, and in its reversed orientation it represents someone who is underhanded, perhaps an associate of the King of Swords. It lies before us.”
Lissa stood and stamped her foot. “But that’s the card I drew, and I’m not underhanded.”
Aylis smiled. “Nay, Liss, you are not. Yet this Knight of Swords represents someone else, someone who is not you. And in this spread and in the reverse orientation, it is perhaps the pawn of the King of Swords, who, as I said, is someone quite cruel.”
Somewhat placated, yet with a remnant of disgruntlement lying upon her face, the Pysk sat down once more.
Aylis looked about the table, and then pointed at the next card in the spread, the lowest of four lying in a vertical line to the right of the first six. “The Ace of Swords represents the negative, and in this reversed orientation it means the seeds of defeat are taking root and could come to fruition.”
Again Brekk growled, but otherwise said nought.
Aylis moved to the next card up the line. “The Wheel of Fortune reversed represents the feelings of all of us, and even in the face of apparent defeat we must remain strong and have courage.”
“Châkka shok. Châkka cor,” muttered Dokan, then adding, “Hai, Pyska; hai Waerans.”
“Is that our battle cry?” asked Pipper. “Me, I’d settle for Châkka shok, Châkka cor.”
“Dwarven axes, Dwarven might?” asked Binkton. “But we’re not Dwarves. Why that, Pip?”
“It’s shorter,” replied the buccan. “Easier to call out in the midst of battle.” He looked at Lissa.
She shrugged and said, “All right.”
Smiling to herself, Aylis touched the third card in the line. “Now we come to the Hermit upright. It represents positive actions, as of a door being opened, as of a seeking and finding. In the context of all the other cards, I think that even when things seem lost, still there is a way.”
“I can open doors,” said Binkton. “Do you think that means something I have to do?”
“Mayhap. Yet I deem it more likely it is something all of us must be aware of.”
“Oh,” said Binkton, disappointed.
“Finally, the tenth and last card,” said Aylis. “Here again we see the Tower, but this time it is upright. In this complete layout, it means things can change rapidly, whether for good or ill, I cannot say, yet change they will.”
Aylis then held out the remainder of the pack to Aravan and said, “And now one final trial: you, as our captain, must draw a single card from these, for it might tell us what the spread does not show, what we do not know; mayhap it will be the key to all.”
Aravan took the cards as Aylis muttered another arcane phrase. He cut the deck and looked about at the others, and Pipper and Binkton sat up straighter, while both Nikolai and Lissa got to their feet.
Aravan then drew out a single card and turned it face up.
“Thaimon!”
hissed Nikolai, and he made a circle of protection upon his chest, even as Lissa blenched and turned her face away. Both Dokan and Brekk copied Nikolai’s gesture, and Dokan uttered several words in Châkur, “Elwydd” among them.
“What? What is it?” cried Pipper, leaning forward to see.
Aylis sighed and shook her head and said, “The Demon.”
44
Crossing
ELVENSHIP
EARLY SUMMER TO MID AUTUMN, 6E9
“Demon?” blurted Pipper.
“Aren’t you listening, Pip?” snapped Binkton. “That’s what she “just said.” “Aren’t you listening, Pip?” snapped Binkton. “That’s what she
“No, no, Bink,” said Pipper. “What I mean is, does it have anything to do with Grygar?”
“The Demon Plane?” asked Binkton. “Why didn’t you say so? And what would that have to do with anything?”
“Well, if it does,” said Pipper, his voice quavering, “it means the reason the city was abandoned was because of a Gargon or such.”
Brekk and Dokan glanced at one another, being from Kraggen-cor as they were.
“I mean,” continued Pipper, “those Fearcasters are demons, or so it is I hear.”
“Oh, my,” said Lissa.
Both Warrows and the Pysk looked to Aylis for confirmation.
“Gargons are indeed Demons of a kind,” said Aylis. “But this card, the Demon, has little to do with such. Upright, and in relation to this layout, the card means an evil external force, a dreadful influence that one must take steps to break.”
“Oh, well, that’s better,” said Pipper, heaving a sigh of relief.
Aylis shook her head. “Take no solace in what I just said, for, given the import of the casting, still it could mean something just as vile as a Gargon, though more likely it is incorporeal.”
“Incorporeal?” asked Pipper.
Binkton groaned in frustration at Pipper, for he knew that his cousin meant to ask something else altogether instead of merely repeating a word.
“What I mean, Bink,” said Pipper, now glancing at his cousin, “is how can something incorporeal hurt us?”
“A Gargon’s fear is incorporeal,” suggested Lissa.
Pipper looked at the Pysk and nodded, saying, “Oh, right you are.”
“And fear that strong can burst a person’s heart,” said Binkton.
“There are other nonmaterial things that can do harm,” said Aravan.
“Oh, don’t tell me,” said Pipper. “It’ll give me bad dreams if you do. Won’t it, Bink?”
Binkton nodded. “Ever since I’ve known Pip, he’s been given to nightmares, especially when told some ghost story or tale about dreadful Dragons and such, or grisly doings.”
“Now I’ll dream about those things, Bink, just because you said them.”
“If you do, I’ll waken you, like I’ve always done.”
Nikolai said, “Ghost?”
“You mean as an incorporeal being?” asked Aylis.
Nikolai nodded. “Ghost, shade, like in poem.”
“I suppose,” said Aylis. “Yet I’ve not heard of a shade being able to do harm, other than to cause alarm.”
“Oh, now you’ve done it,” groaned Pipper. “I’ll dream of ghosts all night.”
Binkton reached out and laid a hand on Pipper’s forearm and again said, “I’ll waken you.”
Brekk cleared his throat. “Is there anything else you need tell us, Lady Aylis? Anything else the cards reveal?”
Aylis looked at the spread and the lone Demon card and sighed. “Only that there appear to be dark forces arrayed against us, and it seems we’ll have a fight on our hands when we reach the City of Jade. We must go well armed”—she glanced at Pipper and Binkton and then Lissa—“and well equipped to deal with whatever we face.” She turned to Aravan and added, “Your stone of warding, my love, perhaps will prove to be key, in that it will warn us of peril at hand.”
Aravan’s hand strayed to the blue amulet on its thong at his throat, next to the falcon crystal. “The stone does not give notice against all things of evil intent, and so we depend on scouts—and perhaps Valké—to detect things lying in wait.”
“You can depend on Vex and me,” said Lissa. “If it’s there, we will find it.”
The vixen, hearing her name, raised her head from her doze. But when no command followed, she went back to sleep.
Binkton started to protest—“I say, Pip and I, we’re scouts, too, and—” but Dokan, speaking at the same time, said, “If it is the Grg, we will deal with them.”
Brekk nodded and said, “We will be ready, Captain.”
Lissa stood and asked, “Is there more?”
Aravan looked at Aylis, and she turned up her hands. “I can see no more.”
“We are finished,” said Aravan.
“Good,” said Lissa. “Dinny and I are in the middle of a tokko game, and I am about to stun him with a move of an eagle.”
Brekk and Dokan got up from their chairs, and Pipper and Binkton hopped down from theirs. As Nikolai lowered Lissa from the table, he said, “When play Dinny tokko, he be sly one. Probably already know move you make.”
Lissa called Vex and mounted up, saying, “We’ll see, Nikolai. We’ll see.”
As all trooped out but Aylis and Aravan, Pipper overheard Aravan say, “Would that I yet had Krystallopŷr or a sword like the one Riatha bears, then I would feel more—”
Following Binkton, Pipper passed beyond hearing whatever else the captain then had on his mind.
Faring southwesterly, past Hoven and Tugal the
Eroean
ran, the early summer wind braw and steady and off the stern port quarter. Down through the Northern Strait of Kistan she fared, the rover isle to larboard, the realm of Vancha starboard. Past the inlet to the city of Castilla the ship sped, that port of call notable for cargos of a wine called Dark Vancha, perhaps the finest in all of Mithgar, though the winemakers of the Gothon vineyards would say otherwise.