In The Cards

The Chaltar deck of cards is used for sleight of hand, the conning of the trusting and the gullible. It is used for gambling, and the exchange of coins based on skill or luck. But occasionally, and in the hands of the right person, it may be used for something else entirely.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

"Oh, come on, Rini! You know you want to, you really do! Pleeease!" Imoen scrunched her face up into her best appealing smile and directed the full force of it at her best friend and almost-sister. "And you're so good at it too", she shamelessly went on. "You predicted that Dreppin would trip and fall into the mud puddle, didn't you?"

"That," Zaerini said dryly, "was because Dreppin always trips over his own feet whenever you're around. Really Immy, a blind mole could have predicted that."

"What about the fact that you predicted Sarra would run off with that young guard of hers? That was genuine, wasn't it?"

"Ha! They'd been seeing each other on the sly for months, and she had started throwing up every morning. Either she'd run off or face her mother's wrath for getting pregnant. It was obvious." Zaerini pushed her bright red hair out of her eyes and nonchalantly shuffled the deck of cards using only one hand. She then gave her sister a friendly wink, her half-elven features mischievous. "What I do with this deck isn't exactly magic, Immy", she explained. "I just watch people and use the deck to explain what I see. That's all."

"All the same," Imoen persisted, "I'd really like it if you did a reading. Come on! It'll be fun."

"Oh, all right," Zaerini said. "Have it your way. I'll even do it for free, how's that for being generous?" The two girls were holed up in Zaerini's room, a small chamber in one of the highest turrets of the library fortress known as Candlekeep. Apart from the small bed and the table and two chairs, most of the space was occupied by a large bookshelf, overflowing with books and various oddments. A violin case rested in a prominent position on a shelf all of its own and there was sheet-music all over the bed.

"Go ahead," Zaerini said, holding out the deck of cards with the backs toward Imoen. "Pick three."

The human girl eagerly reached out for the cards, her blue eyes alight with excitement. "Oh, this is great!" she said. "Make it a dark and handsome stranger and a long journey would you, Rini?"

Zaerini rolled her eyes. "Just show me the cards", she said. She then studied the three cards intently, leaning her chin on her hands. "Hmmm", she said. "The Knight of Swords. The Archmage. And Death."

"Not very cheerful is it?" Imoen asked, biting her lower lip nervously.

"Oh, you mean Death?" Zaerini said. "I wouldn't worry about it. Generally it just means transformation of some kind."

"Ah. So what you're saying is that a mysterious and dark stranger will turn my life around and take me into a new world of magic and mystery, rather than sweeping floors for Puffguts down at the inn?"

"Exactly!" Zaerini said, grinning. "See? It's so easy you can do this yourself!"

"Oh, very funny, sis. Now do one for yourself. A full prediction, with all the bells and whistles."

Still grinning, the half-elf shuffled the cards again and spread them out in a flower-like pattern in front of her. "Oh, spirits of the great beyond!" she moaned in a deep and solemn voice. "Hark and listen to my plea! Grant me your wisdom from beyond the dark veil!" Her lips twitched as she saw Imoen fight to suppress a giggle. "Grant me knowledge of my past, my present and above all my future", Zaerini continued. Her amber eyes sparkled wickedly. "And grant me knowledge of my True Love, while you're at it", she added. Imoen promptly lost her fight against the giggles, collapsing in a quivering heap onto the table where both girls were sitting. "Let him be handsome!" she pleaded. "Let him be wise, brave, intelligent, witty, charming, gallant and preferably rich. Oh, and handsome. Tall, dark and handsome. Did I mention handsome?"

Imoen was bright red by now and had tears streaming down her face. "Stop it!" she wheezed. "I - I can't take it, Rini!"

Zaerini shook her head in mock despair. "Children these days", she sighed. "No stamina at all." She then examined the cards, turning her full attention to the pattern in front of her. It was a strange one and her smile faded as she watched it.

In the center was The Bard, an obvious representation of herself. But behind her was a weird combination of cards. The Archmage and Death, in conjunction. Then the Harp. It could mean music, but she wasn't sure. Death in her past, well no mystery there. She was an orphan after all, her mother lost as she was born, her father a great unknown. And the Archmage could be none other than her foster father, the old mage Gorion.

Then the present. Again the Death card, and the Archmage. And crossing them both lay the Knight of Swords, a dark and armor-plated figure with its head concealed by the visor of its helmet. Then the Harp again, and the Wanderer. Hints of a journey, perhaps?

In the near future, the Wizard of Coin, his face almost entirely hidden by the deep cowl of his robe as he raised his hands to cast a spell. Behind that card and almost hidden by it lay the Rogue, a shadowy figure cloaked by darkness. She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, since both tended to be solitary cards.

And at last the Death card again, overshadowing the entire reading, the grinning skull staring at her in what almost seemed to be mockery.

"Rini?" Imoen asked, her voice hesitant. "Are…are there supposed to be that many Deaths in the Deck?"

The half-elf shook her head, her hands trembling as she stared at the cards. "No", she murmured. "There should be only one. I…I don't know how…" Her voice faltered as she saw the images in the cards begin to move in front of her wide eyes, staring back at her. The Archmage watched her sadly, tears streaming down his ancient face as the Harp played a mournful tune. The Wizard of Coin gave her a sidelong glance from under his cowl, beckoning her forward impatiently as magic sparked in the air around him. Behind him the Rogue watched silently, an almost invisible presence among the shadows that surrounded him. And the Knight of Swords reared up towards her, a tower of rage and destruction with a sword almost as tall as she was. It arced towards her, a glittering lightning out of the darkness, and she shied back in fear. And as she saw the Knight approach, the skull visage of Death kept grinning without lips and laughing silently at her plight.

"Rini? RINI!" The half-elf gave a sudden jerk and was surprised to find herself being violently shaken by her best friend. Imoen was almost in tears by now, her normally cheerful face white with worry.

"I…I'm fine, Immy," Zaerini said, surprised at how shaky her normally smooth voice sounded. "I…I just felt a little dizzy for a moment I suppose."

"You were staring into empty space and muttering to yourself", Imoen said, her voice trembling. "I thought you were sick or something."

"I don't think so," Zaerini said, her face thoughtful. "I feel just fine now." She shrugged her shoulders. "It was probably nothing", she said. "But if you see any really big armored guys with huge swords hanging around, be sure to warn me to stay out of their way, OK? I only have so many spare pairs of clean underwear."

Imoen made a face. "Eeewww!" she exclaimed. "That is just so icky!" A sudden knock on the door interrupted whatever she was about to say next. Zaerini winked at her friend and went to open the door, pleased with how she had diverted Imoen's distress. She gave the servant standing outside the door her best smile, causing the man to blink and stutter.

"Ah…Miss?" he said. "Your Father wishes to see you at once, in the courtyard. H-he sent me to tell you that it's ur-urgent."

And now Father probably wants to set me up with some really boring chore, Zaerini thought, rather ruefully. Or quiz me on my latest study subjects or something. Oh, well. I've had enough excitement for today, anyway.

She nodded in acknowledgement to the servant, said 'Catch you later, Immy' and bounded down the stairs towards the sunny courtyard of Candlekeep, secure in her anticipation of the comfortably dull and familiar day that no doubt lay ahead of her. She was, of course, completely and utterly wrong.