The Card

Pale red wine—so she really is from the big city... In the end, Lumian's gaze settled on the glass in the lady's hand. Pale red wine is a spirit made from sugar and pickled cherries. Both its color and its taste make it a favorite with the ladies. Of course, other suitable fruits can be substituted for the cherries, which gives a slightly different taste, though not by much. It was one of the few respectable drinks the Old Tavern of Koldu village could offer. They kept it on hand because Madame Pualis had fallen in love with this pale red drink after a single visit to Bigorre, the provincial capital. —Madame Pualis was the wife of Beost, the local administrator and seigneurial judge. Her ancestors had been nobles, but the family lost its title in the days of Emperor Roselle the Great. She was also one of the mistresses of the parish priest, Guillaume Bénet. Not many in the village knew that; Lumian was one of them. Lumian withdrew his gaze and walked to the bar. A man in his forties sat there in nothing but a linen shirt and trousers of the same color. His brown hair was no longer thick and was rather unkempt, and years of hard work had left wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, around his mouth, and across his forehead. This was Raymond's father, Pierre Craig. Another Pierre. That was why Lumian joked to Lia, Leyn, and the others that if you shouted "Pierre" in the bar, at least a third of the people would answer. When villagers spoke of these Pierres and Guillaumes, they always tacked on whose family they belonged to; otherwise no one could tell them apart. In plenty of households, father and child even shared a name, both called Pierre or Guillaume, so the neighbors had to add "old," "big," or "little" to distinguish them. "Dad, why aren't you in the village square chatting with the others?" Raymond walked up beside his father. The village men liked nothing better than to gather under the elms in the square or at somebody's house to play dice, cards, and chess and discuss every rumor going around—going to the tavern cost money. Holding a glass of red wine, Pierre Craig turned his head and glanced at his second son. "I'll go in a bit. There shouldn't be anyone in the square right now." Right—where had all the village men gone? Lumian was suddenly puzzled. Earlier, in the square, he hadn't seen a single soul. "Uncle, I came looking for you because I want to ask you something." Lumian went straight to the point. Pierre Craig instantly grew wary. "Another practical joke?" There really is a basis in reality for "The Boy Who Cried Wolf"... Lumian tilted his head, signaling for Raymond to speak. Raymond gathered his words. "Dad, how long ago did that sorcerer legend you told me about actually happen? The one where it took nine oxen to pull the coffin." Pierre Craig took a gulp of wine and said, puzzled, "Why do you want to know? "I heard that from your grandfather when I was a child." Leston Province, where Koldu village lay, along with the neighboring provinces of Aulay and Suhit, were all in the south of the Republic of Intis and were famous grape-growing country. Wine there—especially the cheap, poor-quality kind—was very cheap; in some years people could drink wine the way others drank water. Raymond was disappointed to hear this, because his grandfather had died long ago. Just then, Pierre Craig added one more thing. "Your grandfather said he saw it with his own eyes when he was a boy. After that, he was afraid of owls, worried that those evil creatures would carry off his soul." Lumian's and Raymond's eyes lit up at the same moment. So there really was a lead! The legend of that sorcerer was actually something some people had witnessed firsthand? "Did Grandfather ever say where the sorcerer used to live, or where he was carried off to be buried?" Raymond pressed. Pierre Craig shook his head. "Who would care about that?" Seeing that Raymond wanted to ask more, Lumian reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. "Time we headed to the river," he said loudly. Raymond was about to follow Lumian out when Pierre Craig suddenly remembered something. "Wait, Raymond. In a couple of days you'll be a crop watcher. Let me tell you a few things to watch out for." The "crop watcher" patrolled the plateau pastures near the village and the surrounding fields to keep people from grazing livestock during the closed season or letting their animals ruin the young crops. Lumian did not stay to listen. He went to the washroom attached to the tavern. On his way out, he deliberately passed by the young woman from out of town who was drinking pale red wine, the one whose exact age was impossible to guess. He would never do anything like striking up a conversation, but he wanted to observe her in advance and collect the details. When the time came, it might prove useful—just as he had used Leyn, Lia, and the others to stumble onto the parish priest's tryst. After a few unobtrusive glances, Lumian was about to skirt that corner and wait for Raymond at the tavern door. Just then, the lady in the orange-yellow gown, with her languid air, raised her head. Lumian's gaze, not yet withdrawn, collided squarely with hers. For a moment, even a fellow as thick-skinned as Lumian felt embarrassed. Thoughts popped into his head one after another: Should I do what the parish priest or the administrator would do—seize the moment to praise her beauty and turn observation into flirtation—or show my callow side and hurriedly turn and walk away... He had only just made up his mind when the lady spoke, smiling. "You've been dreaming a lot lately?" In an instant Lumian felt as though he had been struck by lightning. His whole mind went numb, and every thought froze where it stood. A second or two later, he forced a smile. "Isn't dreaming a perfectly normal thing?" The lady propped her cheek on one hand, studied Lumian, and laughed softly. "A dream in the middle of a thick fog." How does she know...? Lumian's pupils dilated, and a hint of fear crept into his expression. He had been through a good deal, but he was still young, and for a moment he simply could not control his face. Calm down, calm down... Soothing himself, Lumian loosened the muscles in his face and countered, "Did you hear the story I told those three outlanders last night?" The lady did not answer. From an orange handbag on the chair beside her, she took out a stack of cards. She looked at Lumian again and smiled. "Draw a card. Perhaps it will help you unlock the secret hidden in that dream." This... Lumian was startled and suspicious at once. For a moment he was both thrilled and intensely wary. He glanced at the deck, frowned slightly, and said, "Tarot?" It looked like the tarot cards Emperor Roselle the Great had invented for divination. The lady glanced down and gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, wrong deck." She stuffed those twenty-two tarot cards back into the medium-sized handbag and took out another deck. "This is tarot too, but the Minor Arcana. You're not qualified to draw from the Major Arcana yet, and I'm not qualified to let you..." The Minor Arcana had fifty-six cards in four "suits": Cups, Wands, Swords, and Pentacles. What is she talking about...? Lumian was utterly baffled. This lady looked beautiful and refined, but the way she actually behaved was not quite normal. She seemed a little off in the head. "Draw one." The young woman, who appeared to come from the big city, fanned the Minor Arcana in her hand and said with a smile, "It's free. Trying it costs nothing, and it might even solve the problem of your dream." Lumian chuckled. "My sister says the free things are the most expensive." "There is certainly some truth in that," the lady said after a moment's thought. She set the Minor Arcana down beside the glass of pale red wine and went on, "But as long as you refuse to pay no matter what, how could an outlander like me force you to pay here in Koldu village?" She has a point... Drawing one card can't do any harm... It's not every day I get a hint about that dream; how could I not try... But could this involve a sorcerer's curse... Should I ask Aurore for help? Lumian's thoughts churned, and for a moment he could not make up his mind. The young woman did not hurry him. After ten-odd seconds, Lumian slowly bent forward, reached out his right hand, spread the stack of Minor Arcana, and drew one from the middle. "The Seven of Wands," said the languid lady, glancing at the card. On the card, a resolute-faced man in green stood atop a hill, holding a single wand and fighting off six wands thrusting up at him from below. "What does it mean?" Lumian asked. The lady smiled. "Interpret it yourself from the picture. Crisis, challenge, confrontation, courage, and so on and so on. "Of course, none of that matters. What matters is that this card is yours now. When fate arrives, you'll discover its true meaning." "You're giving it to me?" Lumian grew even more puzzled. This card couldn't actually be cursed, could it? The lady put away the rest of the Minor Arcana, picked up her glass, and drained the little pale red wine left in it. Ignoring Lumian's question, she strolled over to the staircase at one side of the Old Tavern and went up to the second floor. Clearly, she was staying there. Lumian meant to follow, but he took only one step and stopped, his thoughts surging. Is this really just an ordinary card? She gave this card to me—doesn't that deck now lack a card forever, so it can never be used again? Aurore should be able to spot the problem... Just then, Raymond came looking for him. "What's going on?" "Nothing. That outlander is really something to look at." Lumian brushed him off. "I still think your sister Aurore looks better." Raymond lowered his voice. "Lumian, what do we do next? My grandfather's been dead a long time." Eager to get home, Lumian thought it over. "First, find old people about your grandfather's age who are still alive and ask them. Second, go to the church and look through the registers—uh, but leave that for last." Remembering that he had just spoiled the parish priest's fun, Lumian felt he ought to stay away from the church for a while unless it was absolutely necessary. —In a backwater like Koldu village, which had only one church, the church took on some of the government's functions, such as recording burials and marriages, because the administrator had very few men under him. Before Raymond could ask more, Lumian added, "Let's split up and see which old folks fit the bill, then go ask them tomorrow." "All right," Raymond agreed at once. ... Inside a two-story building half sunk into the ground. After hearing Lumian out, Aurore studied the "Wands" card for a while. "It really is an ordinary card. I don't sense any curse or anything else out of the ordinary." "Aurore—uh, sis, what do you think that outlander is after? How does she know I've been having that kind of dream?" Lumian asked. Aurore shook her head. "Since she's already shown her hand, that's relatively reassuring. "Over the next few days, I'll 'observe' her properly. "Hmm... keep this card for now. There may be some change. Don't worry, I'll be watching." "Okay." Lumian tried to relax a little. ... Night had fallen. Lumian tucked the "Wands" card into the clothes hanging over the back of his chair, climbed into bed, closed his eyes, and slept. He did not know how long it had been when, in a daze, he seemed to see that gray fog again. Suddenly he gave a violent start and "woke" inside the dream. He felt his clarity return, his reason restored. And the dream filled with gray fog was still there.