The Master of Misrule (20 page)

The crashing noise reverberated in her head. With every echo, Cat seemed to see the door swing shut again and again, each time closing on a different view. She glimpsed Lucrezia, Odile and Ahab, each looking up at her with grief and loss and terrible longing.

The door slammed shut for a fifth time, leaving Cat alone in blackness. There was nothing except the sound of her quick, shallow breathing, and an unseen weight of stone. Then one lamp, then another, winked into life, and she was back in the crypt, looking into the strained, pale faces of the three other new kings and queens.

They left the Hanged Man’s chamber in silence. Speech of any kind would have felt irrelevant. But when they reached the room with the golden curtain, a new shock awaited them. The High Priest was lying sprawled on the ground in front of the arch. There was a single crumpled playing card clutched to his chest.

Flora knelt beside him to check for signs of life; Toby, to prize the card free. He was not breathing, although they could find no sign of injury. His eyes were open in the same trapped, unblinking gaze as the past Game Masters had when they last sat around the table.

There was no one around it now. Instead, they pulled back the curtain to find the Master of Misrule sitting cross-legged on the table, tearing greasily into a chicken leg. The hair that flowed to his shoulders was as soft and white as thistledown, and he was dressed in a rich and glittering version of the Fool’s patchwork rags.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” he said, bowing low from the waist.

“What’ve you done to the Priest?” Blaine demanded.

The Master of Misrule widened his already wide blue eyes. “His card has joined my discard pile. And there he will wait, until such a time as I see fit to reintroduce him into play.” He tilted his head at them in mock concern. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like what I’ve done to the place?”

The wave of his arm indicated everything from Temple House to the boundless reaches of the Arcanum.

“Of course, I couldn’t have managed it without you!” He laughed merrily, and gnawed some more on the chicken leg.

“Without cheating us, you mean,” Flora muttered.

“Cheated? But I bestowed the prizes you asked for! It is no fault of mine if they were not quite what you expected … for didn’t I warn you that every card has two sides?” The curve of his cheek and the gentleness of his smile were like a child’s, yet something cold and ancient seemed to peer out from behind his face. “Have no fear, my friends. You will soon see how glorious our Game has become.”

“The High Priest already showed us,” said Cat, lifting her chin, “and I don’t think much of it. There’s more than enough bad luck and random nastiness in the world as it is.”

“Wisely spoken, Your Majesty.” Misrule clasped his hands together and nodded eagerly. “Why indeed should some men live in comfort and ease while others starve in gutters? What absurdity dictates the tyranny of birth! How
capricious opportunity is, how narrow the span of one man’s destiny!

“Chance has always been at the root of men’s fortunes, good or bad, but its influence is flimsy and fleeting. I seek to redress this imbalance. And so my Lottery shall render every man, woman and child equal in vulnerability and opportunity alike. Each player will live an infinite variety of lives, suffer and celebrate a thousand destinies. The prince shall become the pauper. The sinner, the savior. The detestable may be beloved; the dying can rise again.… Until, that is, the next spin of my wheel, when the cards will once more set all at liberty from their fate.”

Flora’s face was pinched with loathing. “How can you talk of liberty? You’re far more of a tyrant than any of the old kings and queens. You’re out to play
God
.”

The man laughed, showing even white teeth. His lips shone greasily from the meat. “A god at play is a generous one. I have no need of thunderbolts; I will impose no laws on tablets of stone. I have only to ensure that the wheel spins and the cards turn, for what lies on their reverse, and who receives them, is still Fortune’s lot. I am her consort, not her conqueror.

“I once told you how the Game began, as a Lottery of the people. When I tried to advance its powers, I was cast down and condemned. And so my beautiful Game became a secret, hidden thing, crippled by boundaries and corrupted by false laws. But just as you released me, so will I release the Game. Beyond the thresholds of the Arcanum, its destiny will be fulfilled.”

“Not if we can help it,” Toby retorted.

“Ah yes … your brave new round!” When he had talked of the Game’s origins, Misrule had become grave and still, but now his lighthearted tone returned. “All manner of play delights me. I did not set the Game free only to frustrate its sport. You may wander the Arcanum for
all
Eternity if you wish. And besides,” he continued, licking his chicken bone clean, “although Fortune loves a fool, she likes to toy with kings even better.”

With that, the Master of Misrule took the drumstick between his hands and broke it. In a snap of bone, the room in the crypt disappeared, and the former chancers found themselves standing in Mercury Square.

“Well,” said Flora shakily, “that was interesting.”

Dazed, Cat turned round to face the steps of Temple House. A toss of a coin … the slam of a door … a snap of bone … In real time, she had barely had the chance to catch her breath after her last move, and yet its ordeal already seemed misty and muddled, like something from long ago. She looked back at the others. “Did you see the giant chessboard, too? And the other kings and queens, with their cards?” she asked.

They nodded.

“It was strange,” Flora murmured. “It’s not as if I’d expect them to be overwhelmingly grateful for being set free. After all, we’re the ones who wrecked their Game in the first place. But they … they looked so … 
ruined
.”

“They’ve lost everything,” Toby replied solemnly. “After centuries of ruling the Game, what could life in this world
possibly offer? Perhaps for an ousted Game Master, even suffering in the Arcanum is better than being banned from it.”

“More fool them,” said Blaine.

“And more power to us!” Toby’s face brightened. “C’mon, guys, we
did
it. We’re the new generation of Game royalty! All hail the King of Pentacles! Wooo-HOOO!” He let out a victory yelp that echoed around the square.

Flora smiled a little but shook her head. “What’s the use of grand titles if we don’t have our Game Masters’ decks?” She spread out her empty hands. “One minute the Queen of Cups’ cards were there—floating toward me—and the next they had gone. Nothing.”

Toby inspected his own palm. “Hmm. There must be a way of getting them back. Maybe we need to find those magic-ball-amulet thingies first.”

“Or maybe Misrule has stolen them,” said Flora. “Who knows? Without the High Priest to guide us, we haven’t a clue. About
anything
.”

Cat opened her mouth to tell them about the oracle, then thought better of it. The words of the prophecy were hopelessly entangled; she needed to straighten them out in her own mind first. In the meantime, Toby’s confidence was irrepressible.

“Well, we’ve got at least one card up our sleeves. Look!” With a flourish, he pulled out the card he had taken from the old man. “It’s blank at the moment. But the High Priest must have meant us to have it, as our next move. Perhaps it will take us to the rest of the deck.”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Cat cautioned. “It could lead to anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “Once we’re in the Arcanum, the Game will show us what to do. We’ll just keep going until we get some answers. I lost my die but I’ve still got my ace, by the way. What about you guys?”

It transpired that they had two dice but only the one ace between them.

“Better than nothing,” Toby said. “And you never know, our last moves might hold some clue as to what’s in store for the next one. Here, Blaine, what card did you get?”

Blaine glanced up from trampling leaves in the gutter. “Nine of Swords. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What d’you mean?”

He lowered his brows heavily. “Exactly what I said.”

But Toby didn’t back down. “I’m sorry, but what affects one person affects us all.”

“He’s right,” Flora told Blaine. “The High Priest was the only person who could have told us what to do next. But we’re on our own now. When it comes to the Game, all we have is each other.”

Cat noticed that Flora had turned a little pink.

They went to a greasy spoon in Soho that they’d met up in before and whose chief recommendation was that the spacing of its tables and noisiness of its customers helped even the most outlandish conversation go unnoticed.

It wasn’t even noon, yet the idea of food was comforting.
Plates of fries revived unsettled appetites; everyone began to relax as they eased into the bustle of the café.

In the end, Blaine was the first to relate his experience in the Arcanum. It was a curt and cut-down summary that set the tone for the others’ narratives. Even Toby’s account was relatively restrained. Flora spoke third.

“… and I still don’t know what a cross sum is, let alone who or what Death’s is supposed to be,” she said in conclusion.

“The Emperor, obviously,” said Toby.

Flora rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s obviously not obvious to me.”

“The cross sum of a number is what you get when you add its digits together. Death is the thirteenth triumph, right, and one plus three equals four. The fourth triumph is the Emperor. So if you think about it, that last question was actually the most straightforward of the lot.… Pity you wasted that ace, though.”

“
Excuse
me—I didn’t ‘waste’ anything, thank you very much,” Flora retorted. “I used the card to save Odile’s life.”

“She would have survived anyway. That’s the point of Misrule’s punishment: whatever horrible things happened to them in one move, they’d always regenerate safe and sound in the next one. Think of their doppelgängers in the crypt—there wasn’t so much as a scratch on them.”

“I’m still not convinced. And there’s no need to look so pleased with yourself, Toby,” she added. “It was only sheer dumb luck you didn’t have to use your ace as well.”

“Not necessarily. The fact is, whatever card you get
dealt, there’s always going to be
some
way of winning it, even if you haven’t got an ace to help you. For example—”

“You haven’t heard about my card yet,” Cat interrupted, hastily launching into a description of the High Priestess. As she’d expected, although everyone was interested in the Minotaur, it was the oracle that got their attention. After explaining the falsehood about the Empress, she did her best to relate the main prophecy.

“OK, here goes. The prophecy began with a lord standing over a threshold, and filling a house with cloud and a court with glory. Then the Priestess described four wheels: one with a bull in the middle, and a man and a lion and an eagle in the others. Like in the picture of the Triumph of Eternity. But there were cherubs mixed up in it, too—riding the wheels or something. Anyhow, we have to make some kind of offering to the cherubs because they’re the only ones who can bring us Eternity.”

“Cherubs?” Toby pulled a face. “Like on Valentine cards?”

“Those are cupids, technically,” said Flora. “
Cherub
is the singular of
cherubim
, who were originally powerful angels, and part of the heavenly host. But the only angel-type cards I can think of are the Triumphs of Love and Fame.”

“Hmm.” Cat helped herself to the last of the fries. “Well, we have to find some way of working out who they are and what kind of offering they need—or else Misrule and his wheel are going to kick into action. At the turning of the year, the girl said.”

“So the big showdown will be on New Year’s Eve!” Toby failed to keep the relish from his voice.

“I might have got things garbled,” Cat warned them. “It didn’t help that the Priestess was speaking in this fancy ye-olde-worlde style.
Thee
and
thou
and whatever.”

“I’m beginning to think it could be biblical,” said Flora. “Both Tarot and triumph cards use religious imagery, you know.”

“Or religion uses Game of Triumphs imagery,” said Cat. “After all, the Game and the Bible are both old and creepy and don’t make much sense. Maybe the Bible pinched some of its ideas from the Arcanum.”

Flora rolled her eyes. “Amateur theology aside, the business with the wheels and cherubim sounds familiar. It’s the kind of apocalyptic vision the book of Revelation goes in for.”

“Or the prophet Ezekiel,” said Blaine quietly. “ ‘Then the glory of the Lord went up from the cherub, and stood over the threshold of the house; and the house was filled with the cloud, and the court was full of the brightness of the Lord’s glory.…’ Does that sound right, Cat?”

“Hell, yeah. That’s it
exactly
.”

Flora laughed. “You’d be top of any Bible study class. Maybe Charlie wasn’t so wrong about you and the priesthood, after all.”

Cat and Toby looked confused; Blaine, uncomfortable. He coughed. “The last time we were in this café,” he said, “I asked how you people first got mixed up in the Game, remember?”

“Yes,” said Cat. “And you said that you’d got involved because of something you read in a book.”

“A notebook. It was written by the man I’m looking for.” Blaine moved to touch his scar before self-consciously pulling back from the gesture. “He filled it with research on the Game. Or rather, some of it’s about the Game. Mostly it’s the usual hocus-pocus Tarot crap. Anyway, there was a reference to Ezekiel chapter 10 in his notes on the Triumph of Eternity. When I looked up the passage, it didn’t mean much. But now …”

“Do you still have the notebook?” Toby asked eagerly. “Have you checked out all the references yet? Can we see it?”

“It’s back at Flora’s place.”

Toby got to his feet. “Then what are we waiting for?”

“Don’t get too excited,” Blaine warned them as they approached the Seatons’ house. “There’re no earth-shattering secrets waiting to be discovered in this thing. Most of it’s any old occult rubbish.”