“If everyone felt the same way, the world would be a fairer place,” the witch said. “If you’ll tell me what happened, I’ll give you my attention.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She stood out of the way, inviting me in.
■
“…a vestige,” I finished. My recap had been loose, general, skipping whole chapters and ideas. The story wasn’t as important as the underpinnings.
I met her eyes, “And you knew.”
“I had an idea,” she said. “Vestige isn’t the idea that leaped to mind.”
I nodded. “It’s funny, but names mean so much, symbols, all that, but all the same, at the end of the day, labels are a bit of a trap.”
“Yes. Any of us have had labels applied to us over the course of our lives. Some are accurate, some aren’t. Man, woman, normal, freak, genius, ‘good’, idiot, ‘wrong’…”
“Fool,” I said. “High Priestess.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Labels that were applied to me,” I said.
“How, exactly?”
“They were scrying me or something, using a spell to read me. They drew the Fool with the right hand, the High Priestess with the left.”
“Ah. I don’t know that particular trick.”
I nodded, “me either. Didn’t really get a chance to research after, either.”
“The Fool can be the lowest value or the highest value card. The ‘zero’.”
“I know that bit.”
“Fitting, for someone who doesn’t really exist.”
I grimaced. “Ugh.”
“The High Priestess addresses the veil of awareness, about intuition,” she gave me a pointed look, one eye peering at my hand, where the tattoos were more intense.
“Well then,” I said.
“For those of us who know about the practice, it has a second meaning. The very first thing we perceive when we enter this realm.”
“Connections.”
“Yes. Make of that what you will.”
“Left and right hands?”
“I don’t know the exact ritual or the exact meanings. I do know the most basic aspects of the left and right hands, practically and symbolically. The right hand is the active hand, the hand fixed in the now, the one with which you address the world.”
“Sure,” I said.
“The left is the hand we use when we’ve got our hands full, in times of stress, more clumsy, but we’re strongest when we use it in concert with the other, rather than relying on the other alone.”
“Solid advice.”
“Except-” she started.
I looked up.
“The left hand has another meaning. When referring to the parts of the body, terminology for the right side is Dexter, as in dexterity. When referring to the left, the word is Sinister. In superstition, the left is viewed to be the side closest to evil. When we spill salt, we’re to throw a pinch over our left shoulder to ward off evil. When the angel and devil are depicted sitting on a man’s shoulders, the appropriate representation puts the devil on the-“
“Left side,” I said, in concert with her.
“With allowances for artists who don’t know what they’re doing.”
“So,” I said, “What does that mean? This decision I just made is evil?”
“Not necessarily. As I said, the left hand is the hand you use when the right hand alone isn’t up to the task. We use it when we’re in a desperate situation,” she said. She gestured at our surroundings. “And our actions tend to be clumsier. Not wrong, not evil, but it’s not a stretch to jump to that conclusion, when all’s said and done. I’d worry more about when the High Priestess intrudes on your life and it’s not in moments of desperation.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well that’s a relief, then. Because I don’t think I’ve had a minute to breathe where my circumstances weren’t desperate.”
“In the quieter moments between fits of whatever it was you were doing.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“The possibility remains that I could be very wrong. Give some thought to whoever did this reading for you, and why. The only time I imagine someone should be concerned with your left hand is when they’re your enemy, and they want to know what you have up your sleeve, how you might function in a moment of peak stress, or if they wanted to put a ring on your finger.”
“Wedding ring?”
“I’m not being entirely serious,” she said. “We put rings on that finger because of the myth that it was the sole finger with a direct line to the heart. I’m not sure it has any meaning.”
“Uh huh,” I said. I thought of the Behaims. “I’m not entirely sure what they were planning. What about the Hanged Man in the right, the Chariot in the left hand?”
“For who?”
“My, uh, mirror self. The girl who took my place when I came here.”
“The Hanged Man suggests suspension. Patience, waiting to act to achieve a better outcome. Being stuck. Despite the implications of the name, the man is often depicted hanging from his ankle, not his throat.”
“Enough said. The Chariot?”
“Victory, control, overcoming obstacles. It can mean travel, reaching a new point in life. It suggests aggression finding a clear outlet, being honed, often in the frame of being articulate, winning arguments, and confidence.”
“My concern is what it means in the left hand,” I said. “I’m… rather worried about what she’s doing.”
“For that, we can look to the image on the card. I’m working from memory, but the card usually features a man with a laurel or crown on his head. The victor, if you will. The conqueror.”
I leaned back, my head striking the door, making it bang against the frame.
“Problem?”
“That’s ominous,” I said. “Very ominous, considering the events prior to me making my way down here.”