“You think I’ll accept?”
He smiled. As smug as he was, a thin-lipped snake’s grin would have fit him, but he had very full lips, as characteristic of many Behaims. When he spoke, it was with confidence. “Yes. I well and truly believe you won’t deny the agreement, if it’s fair. No killing, no permanent harm, nothing that would alarm the locals, beyond our small battleground here. I’ve got a ready-made spell in play. No interference.”
The bell continued to echo in the background, as if punctuating everything that happened. A sound that altered the tone of things as sure as a red tint or darkness would on a visual level.
If I’d felt top-notch, at full strength, I might have gone after Alister before he could get his footing, and the sound of the phantom bell might have played a role in that decision.
As it stood, I felt just a little shaky. A little less like Blake and more like a broken reflection, sticks and spirits all glued together with Drainstuff.
What did it cost me if I said no? If I refused to play fair and acted the hypocrite? Caused the chaos Rose was worried I’d cause? I’d lose a bit more Blakeness, I was sure. I needed to feed the inner bogeyman and replenish the spirits before I risked it. I didn’t want to crumble or fall back to the Drains. Not like this.
“Fine,” I said. “Consider this my declaration of war. We’ll make this an even contest.”
“What about me, huh?” Evan asked. “I bit out a chunk of your uncle’s eyeball.”
“I’ll try to remember to be careful with my eyes, then,” Alister said. “When I speak of you, I speak of you as a pair, a situation unified. Which, I imagine, isn’t too far off the mark?”
He showed us the card at the bottom of the deck. The two of cups.
“That’s getting irritating fast,” I said. “Just agree, Evan. It makes the most sense.”
“Ugh,” he said. “Fine. Deal.”
Even as I’d mentioned the irritation the deck was causing me, I was thinking about it. The deck was important. Was it his implement?
I paced, moving from surface to surface. Hearing the bell toll, I felt like I had in the Drains. Sitting still was almost like giving up. I had to keep moving, stay active.
Alister turned, keeping me in his sights, using one hand to cut the deck in half, then rotated the top half around one finger until it was on the bottom.
I could see how he kept the deck in his peripheral vision. Cut, combine halves, bottom of the deck visible, showing different cards. Answering questions he wasn’t asking aloud.
“That deck,” I commented.
“It could be a scam,” Evan said, loud enough for Alister to hear. “Feels like it’s all fakery.”
Good bird. Challenge what you thought could be challenged. Break the glamours and other illusions.
Alister smirked, but didn’t look at the bird.
“You’re smiling, but you’re not saying he’s wrong,” I said.
“He’s wrong,” Alister said.
He said it so confidently. I almost lost my stride.
“Evan could be onto something,” I said. “Bravado, showmanship, appearances. You show off well, but is there anything beneath the surface? It’s not a scam, but only because people buy into it. Like glamour? Or even certain magics that desperate practitioners try to pass off as chronomancy?”
He didn’t flinch in the slightest.
“Prophecies are something that have cropped up in any number of cultures and times,” Alister said. “Any number of stories, myths, epics and legends.”
“They have a common theme, though,” I replied. “Very frequently, the actions of the people involved in the prophecy help bring the prophecy to come to pass.”
“True. Does it matter?”
“Maybe Evan’s right. Maybe we should just ignore the cards, ignore the prophecy. Put it all aside and take you out of the picture, so to speak.”
Alister cut the deck and raised it, bottom card facing me.
A naked man lay on the ground with a red cloth draped over his buttocks and legs, a number of long blades stuck into his back. I saw the ‘x’ in the corner.
The tolling felt like it was fractionally louder.
Going by Roman numerals… Ten of swords?
“I don’t know what that means,” I said.
“Bad end,” he told me. “The plan leads to catastrophic failure.”
“For you or me?”
“For you.”
“Why not Death?” I asked.
“Death as a card isn’t quite what it sounds like. The ten of swords, by contrast, is a loss so complete you don’t need to worry about further losses. There’s a kind of peace you have to make in the face of absolute failure.”
“I’ve been there more than once,” I said. “Your card has it wrong. Things can always get worse.”
The knell was louder still. I tried not to let it inform my actions.
“Can they?” he asked. He had to keep turning around to keep me in his field of view. Good. He shrugged a little, cut the deck, then showed me the two of wands, not even looking at the cards. “Rose is currently debating what to do. She’s on the brink of a decision. Does she send you help? She’ll decide to, very soon. Act recklessly, and you’ll lose what little faith she’s placed in you. The fallout… well, things can get worse, but it’s the sort of loss you never recover from.”
If I’d had a proper heartbeat, my heart would’ve been pounding at that.
Well played, Alister.
That was scary. Scarier in a way than the Drains.
I could handle the Drains, on a level. I’d done it once. I’d been miserable, but I’d done it.
Handling Rose, though? The best I’d done to date was form short lived partnerships, only to see them fall apart. I could totally believe that I’d lose my shot if I fucked up.
Not that I was willing to fuck up. By breaking myself out, I’d promised myself that I’d make things better as a result. Besides, I was willing to admit I had an ulterior motive. I didn’t want to fuck up and screw Rose over because that would prove Rose right, and I was way too pissed off at her to do that.
“It’s easy to blame those poor souls that got involved with prophecies in the epics and the myths, say they walked right into it, but when you’re actually facing the prospect,” Alister said, “it isn’t such an easy thing to handle, is it?”
“You’re making a lot of very definite statements,” I said. I tried to fake him out, changing the direction I was walking when he didn’t have a clear view of me. He didn’t miss a trick. “Dangerous for a practitioner.”
“Useful too,” he said. “The spirits like it. Keeps things simple, with everything being less effort for them to arbitrate. It puts me on better terms with them, because I make it all easier.”
That deck. It was his implement, I was almost positive. It was at least part of how he professed to know everything that was about to happen, or at least narrow things down enough to make a good guess. So long as he could, he could make confident statements, the spirits would be happier with him, and they’d help the statements come true out of goodwill, just like bad karma had been dragging me down and introducing problem after problem for the entire time I’d been human.