The Raven Ring (33 page)

“I’ll do whatever is necessary,” Eleret replied. “But I don’t know anything about card-charting.”

“I will direct you.” Climeral turned to Daner. “Will you hold the wards after I set them? Use the technique I showed you this morning; it will be good practice.”

Daner nodded.

“Very well, then. We begin.” Climeral closed his eyes briefly, then lifted his hands and gestured, almost too swiftly to be seen. “
Lithkatri mec cebarat, ri becvaro lithsavar. Katri a
!”

The four stones on the corners of the desk began to glow. Climeral gestured again, and the glow grew stronger, spreading out from each of the stones like ripples in water. In an instant more, the arcs of light met and fused. The four colors melted into a single, golden radiance that expanded until it brushed the ceiling and the walls, surrounding the onlookers with shimmering light.

“The wards are raised,” Climeral said. “Lord Daner, please take over monitoring them.”

“Flashy, aren’t they?” Karvonen muttered.

Silently, Eleret agreed. If this was typical of protective magic, she was not surprised that her father disdained it. It made her think of the castles the Syaski used—maybe you were safe inside, but your enemies knew right where to look for you. All they had to do was wait for you to come out.
Nobody ever won a war with a brilliant defense,
her mother’s voice said in her memory.
Not the kind of war we’re fighting, anyway.

“Freelady Salven?”

Eleret came back to attention at once. “Yes, Adept?”

“Please remove the cards from the case. It will be better for my purposes if you are the only one who handles them.”

Eleret stepped forward and picked up the silver card-case. To her surprise, the metal was warm to the touch. Cautiously, she removed the lid and shook the cards into her hands. They felt smooth, and they slipped against each other like the feathers of a bird’s wing folding into place.

“Give the case to Prill,” Climeral said, and smiled at Prill’s surprised expression. “Since the cards are your excuse for being here, you may as well be useful. Now, Freelady, hold the cards here, over the desk, and try not to move them until I tell you.”

As Eleret stretched her hands out over the desk, Climeral began speaking rapidly in the same strange language he had used before. This time the spell was longer, but Eleret kept her arms rock-steady. The cards grew warm, and the edges pressed against her fingers.

“You may pull your hands back now, but keep hold of the cards,” Climeral said, and with a small shock Eleret realized that his spell was finished. “Stand facing me. Now find the Shadow-Mage card and place it on the desk, to your right. Try not to look at it too closely.”

Eleret turned the cards over and began looking through the deck. At first the pictures seemed blurry, and she thought it would not be difficult to follow Climeral’s instructions. Then, suddenly, one of the cards sprang sharply into focus: a woman with chestnut hair holding a drawn sword, her retreat blocked by a curtain of flames. The drawing was a little different from the one on Jonystra’s cards, but Eleret still recognized the picture from her chart. It was the Swordswoman of Flames, whom she had taken to represent her mother.

“The Shadow-Mage,” Climeral’s voice prompted softly. “Let your other questions go, for now. Find the Shadow-Mage.”

The drawing of the swordswoman blurred again, and Eleret went on through the deck. Another picture leaped out at her: a person in armor riding a black horse, face and head covered by an iron helm. This one was easier to pass by; it lost its sharpness almost immediately. A third picture snapped into clarity. This time it showed a couple sitting comfortably at a wooden table in front of a fireplace, and Eleret had to fight her desire to pull it from the pack.

“The Shadow-Mage,” Climeral said insistently, and once again the picture blurred. Warily, Eleret kept on. Halfway through the deck, the Shadow-Mage sprang into focus. Mindful of Climeral’s instructions, she tore her eyes away from the hooded figure and the enigmatic objects it seemed to contemplate. Pulling the card from the deck, she laid it faceup on the desk as Climeral had instructed. As the card touched the surface, violet light glimmered briefly around its edges. Eleret let go with more haste than she had intended.

“Excellent,” the Shee Adept said. “This is the card of your quest, which is to know whether and to what purpose the Shadow-born threaten you and yours. Look at the card.”

Reluctantly, Eleret let her eyes return to the drawing. A hooded figure stood beside a table bearing a shattered diamond, a spent candle, a broken feather, and a splintered crab shell. Behind it, the figure’s shadow loomed against the wall, barely distinguishable from the figure itself. One hand reached toward the table, trailing a wisp of black smoke from its fingertips. There was menace in the gesture, and danger, and a deep hunger.
I’m imagining things,
Eleret thought.
It’s only a card.

And then the picture moved. The hand stretched forward, plainly reaching for the dead candle, but unable quite to touch it. Eleret thought she glimpsed a chain holding back the wrist beneath the sleeve. Black smoke collected around the outstretched fingers and rolled forward over the candle, which crumbled into powder. The hooded figure chuckled and began to turn toward Eleret. Automatically she reached for her knife…

Abruptly, the drawing was as it had been, the faceless figure frozen in mid-reach toward four broken, useless objects. Eleret looked up, shaken, and met Climeral’s green eyes.

“Did you see…?” Eleret found she could not finish the sentence, and waved the pack of cards toward the Shadow-Mage instead. She was careful not to look directly at the card.

Climeral shook his head. “What the cards show is for you alone. That is why this spell is so effective—when we finish, we will have two views of the chart, mine, which is an interpretation based on the meanings of the cards, and yours, which is more direct and personal.” He smiled slightly. “I would caution you to remember what you see, but I have already had a demonstration of your abilities in that area.”

“Then what does the card mean?” Eleret said.

“The first card is your question. Often, one sees nothing in it, but when one does, it indicates that the question is of immediate importance,” Climeral said. “It seems you are right to worry.”

“It was turning toward me,” Eleret blurted out.

“What?” Frowning, Climeral glanced toward Daner. “Did the wards—”

“They are intact, and nothing has tried to breach them.” Daner sounded edgy and uncomfortable. Then his voice firmed. “I’ll tell you at once if anything happens. Go ahead whenever you’re ready.”

“Go ahead?” Karvonen said. “Why? If you know now that there are Shadow-born involved—”

“That is not the only thing we seek to learn,” Climeral said. “Are you ready, Freelady? Then begin at the beginning of the deck, and find the card that is clear to you. When you have found it, place it directly in front of you, close to the edge of the desk.”

If Climeral felt that it was important to continue, Eleret had to cooperate. She shifted the cards and began working her way through them once again, trying not to think about the Shadow-Mage. This time, the pictures were uniformly blurred until she was nearly at the end of the deck. Using her peripheral vision, she plucked the card from the pack and laid it on the desk.

TWENTY-FOUR

A
S
E
LERET LAID THE
card on the desk, green light flickered around the edges. Eleret heard a soft intake of breath off to one side: Prill, probably. She kept her eyes on Climeral’s calm expression, refusing to look at the card herself until he instructed her.

“This is the root of the matter, the role that your question card may play in your life,” Climeral said. “It is a Major Trump: the Breaking Tower. Look at the card.”

Eleret let her eyes drop. A tower stood at the edge of the sea, its top half broken off and toppling into the raging waves. Fire leaped from great cracks in the remaining portion, and wind whipped bits of debris into the air. Behind the tower, the slim red crescent of the moon Kaldarin hung in a purple sky; on the road below, three tiny figures cowered away from the havoc.

Again, the picture moved. The tower-top completed its fall, sending water high into the air. Stones crashed all around, some from the disintegrating tower, others from somewhere outside the picture.
The mountains themselves are crumbling,
Eleret thought, and did not know where the thought had come from. Fire, wind, stones, and waves combined in massive destruction, overwhelming the three struggling people on the road.

And the card was as it had been, the tower in mid-fall once more. Eleret raised her eyes.

“The Breaking Tower stands for disaster, conflict, and destruction,” Climeral said. “It is not surprising to find it at the root of the matter when the question involves Shadow-born. Choose again, and lay the card in front of you, near the far edge of the desk.”

Reluctantly, Eleret looked down at the cards in her hands once more. She found the card quickly and laid it on the desk in front of Climeral. White light flared, and Climeral said, “This is the peak of the matter, the role that you yourself play. A Minor Trump: the Mason. Look at the card.”

A Shee woman in a gray smock crouched on one knee before a partly finished wall of rectangular gray stones. She held a trowel in one hand and a V-shaped mortar holder in the other, and she was frowning slightly, as if she had been interrupted at her work.

Eleret tensed as the picture began to move. The Shee woman shook her head, brushed a loose wisp of hair out of her eyes with the back of her wrist, and turned back to the wall. Her frown faded as she worked, replaced by a look of absorption. The soft scrape of her trowel against the mortar was oddly comforting. Before the card froze, the wall had grown by two more blocks.

“The Mason stands for patience and dedication to a constructive task, and for the power of perseverance in the face of great odds,” Climeral said. “Not unreasonable, under the circumstances. Choose again, and lay the card to your left, on a line halfway between the other two but off to the side.”

Feeling a little more comfortable, Eleret complied. This time the light was red-orange, and for a moment she was afraid the card had caught fire the way Jonystra’s had. The light faded, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“This fuels the matter,” Climeral said with unruffled calm. “It represents the resources you have. Three of Stones. Look at the card.”

A Wyrd stood in a dense forest, just placing the last rock on a three-stone trail marker. The picture remained motionless much longer than the others had; then, as the Wyrd straightened, an enormous pebble-skinned creature with large, dark eyes and long claws leaped out of the trees. Fast as thought, it swung at the Wyrd; simultaneously a flight of glowing arrows came out of the trees. The Wyrd dodged, barely in time; the arrows struck home; the monster collapsed; the Wyrd made a triumphant gesture at the unseen archers; and the card returned to its peaceful initial picture.

“The Three of Stones stands for unexpected action, particularly unexpected activity on your part,” Climeral said, and Eleret choked on a laugh. “Unexpected” certainly described the scene she had just witnessed, but how it related to her and her problems was not exactly obvious. Climeral gave her a questioning look; when she did not respond, he went on. “Your primary resource seems to be surprise. Choose again, and lay the card to the right, next to your question card.”

As she started through the deck for the fifth time, Eleret realized that this card, with the previous three, would form a diamond, with the Shadow-Mage off to its right.
We must be nearly finished,
she thought, and set the card in its place. Blue light flared, and she looked at Climeral.

“This drowns the matter; it represents the resources that oppose you. Mage of Flames, reversed. Look at the card.”

A tall man in red stood on a staircase, pointing toward the hearth below; fire shot from his hand to the flames roaring up the chimney. Eleret recognized the card at once, even upside down. It had appeared in Jonystra’s chart, and it had been her immediate opposition.
The shapeshifter,
she thought,
Mobrellan.
As if in response, the picture began to move. The man in red gestured, and more flames sprang up around him, driving back the ghost-cat that had been contemplating the dangling ends of his belt. The man’s face twisted, and again he gestured, and again, until the whole card was enveloped in fire. From behind the flames came a laugh, the laugh of the hooded Shadow-Mage from the first card. Eleret jerked involuntarily, and the card returned to its original condition.

“The Mage of Flames is a man of power and intelligence, capable of using the abilities of others for his own ends. Since the card is reversed, his power is likely to be misused. Choose again.”

“I thought that was the last card,” Eleret said, surprised.

“One more,” Climeral said. “Choose, and lay your card in the center of the diamond.”

Eleret found the card almost immediately; it was the fourth from the front. She positioned it with a feeling of relief, and did not even start at the warm golden glow that briefly surrounded it.

“This is the crown, which opens the road to the future,” Climeral said. “A Minor Trump: the Raven. Look at the card.”

Before Climeral even finished speaking, Eleret’s eyes dropped to the picture. A raven in flight filled the center of the card, its wings extended behind it in readiness for their next stroke against the air. Below stretched mountains, some bare, others covered with trees or dotted with tiny fields.
Home,
thought Eleret, and hardly noticed when the raven’s wings began to move and the scenery below flowed past. The bird cawed once and beat the air with its wings, then stretched and soared higher on some invisible current of air. The mountains and everything in them fell away below it, until all that surrounded the raven was clear air and a sense of release.