Tarot

by Marissa Kennerson

  Anna took a step away from the King. She looked from him to the Moon and back again. “The Moon has visited me in my dreams since I was a child.”

  “Has it?” The King’s eyes bulged and his face turned an angry red. “Really?”

  Anna paused, trying to explain. “Sometimes I feel like the Moon is guiding me. I know it’s not real, but it’s always there, somewhere between dream and waking.”

  “Did your advisors tell you about the Moon?” The King tugged at his collar.

  “No, we’ve never talked about it,” Anna admitted.

  “You never asked them why there is no moon here? In this land?” he demanded.

  Anna shook her head.

  “Damn him.” The King pressed his lips together. “Guard! I am ready to leave!” The guards, who had been standing at the doorway, snapped to attention.

  “Where are you going? Damn who?” Anna tried to think of what she might have missed, but everything was happening so quickly.

  The King leaned in close to Anna. “I had a feeling about you. I was right to keep you locked up here, and here is where you’ll stay.” He jabbed his finger at her.

  “You don’t even know me! You’ve never given me a chance!” Anna grabbed the King’s arm. “You can’t leave.”

  But the King shook her off and stormed past her, crossing the room in just a few steps.

  “Father!” Anna pleaded, her voice dissolving into a desperate sob. “What’s happened? Please stay and talk to me.” But the King was already halfway out the door. His guards ran after him. “When will you return?” She was answered with the sound of the key turning in its heavy lock and then the stony, damp silence of the Tower. She pressed her head to the door and heard the echo of a guard’s voice.

  “I don’t know why he doesn’t just hand her over to us. We’d take care of her properly. Throw her in the real dungeons and teach her a lesson or two.”

  Anna stepped back, picked up a glass jar of charcoal sticks, and threw it against the door. “Damn you, Father! Damn all of you!” The jar shattered, glass cascading across the floor.

  “You promised!” She shook her head. “And I was fool enough to believe you.”

  She turned and crossed the room to touch the unfinished tapestry—the tropical land, ruled by youth and passion. She pressed her palm onto the shimmering white threads of the Moon.

  When her advisors finally arrived, it was dusk, and Anna had lit lanterns and candles to combat the coming darkness. Outside her window, the sky turned different shades of pink and violet as the sun set. She could hear the sounds of the day coming to a close: the loud creak of the front gates being drawn shut for the evening, the peasants yelling and corralling their livestock for the night. The hollow ring of the campanile’s bells, signaling evening curfew. Anna could even smell the peasants’ humble dinners roasting, the scent wafting through the evening air.

  For the second time that day she heard keys grind in the lock of the Tower door. When it opened, a small white dog as fluffy as a perfect cloud came bounding straight for Anna.

  “Hello, darling dog.” She smiled for the first time that day and took him in her arms. The little dog launched an attack of unrelenting licks onto Anna’s face, his small body trembling with happiness. She laughed and finally managed to duck away. “My little Bembo! What would I do without you?”

  The dog was followed by Anna’s three advisors: the Fool, the Magician, and the Hermit. They were called as such for the roles they served in the King’s court. If they had other birth names, they had never revealed them to Anna. She let Bembo go, and he started exploring the room, sniffing everything he came in contact with.

  “What took you so long?” Anna moaned. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”

  “We’re so sorry, Anna. We didn’t know how long he’d be here,” the Fool said, fidgeting with his tall onyx staff.

  “How did it go?” The Magician stepped fully into the room. She had silky brown hair, always in a long braid down her back, with one shock of gray woven through, making her look older than her thirty-five years.

  “You haven’t seen him? He didn’t come to you?” Anna started pacing, nervous energy jolting through her.

  “No.” The Magician knitted her brows.

  The Fool poured Anna a glass of water from a pitcher on the worktable and brought it to her.

  “Thank you.” She gulped it down and, taking a few breaths, walked over to the bench beside the worktable and sat down. Anna gestured for the rest of them to follow. Bembo took the opportunity to jump onto her lap, and she stroked his soft, downy fur, finding the motion calming.

  “I was showing him all of the finished tapestries. He seemed very impressed, more so than he wanted to let on.”

  “That’s great, Anna,” said the Fool.

  Anna looked at him. “He got angry for a moment, when I mentioned artisans and creativity.” The three studied her, concerned. “But we moved on, and then—”

  Anna stood up and walked over to the unfinished tapestry. Lantern light beneath it made it look as if the tide were ebbing, the tall palms swaying above it.

  “What is that?” The Magician’s voice was hard. Anna whipped around and faced her.

  “That is what set him off.” Anna looked closely at the Magician. “He saw the Moon, and he yelled at me and stormed out.” Anna thrust her hands into her hair. “He said that he was right to keep me here and that here was where I was going to stay.”

  “When in heaven’s name did you add this, Anna?” the Magician asked.

  The three advisors stood up to examine the Moon, shining big and bright in the lantern’s light.

  “I did it last night. I was going to weave it into all of the lands.”

  “This is a disaster,” said the Magician.

  The Hermit, usually the image of calm, drummed his fingers over his lips.

  “I think it’s time we told her the truth,” he said. He spoke slowly and not very often, so when he did talk, people tended to listen. He paused, always careful with his choice of words. “She needs to know who she is. It is the only way she can protect herself.”

  Anna’s eyes widened. “Protect myself?”

  “Maybe we can talk to him,” the Fool offered. “He can be stubborn, but he’s not a monster. Anna’s just a girl.”

  “There will be no talking to him now. Not after this.” The Magician lifted her chin toward the Moon. “We need a plan, and yes, Hermit, you are correct.” She turned her attention back to Anna. “My dear, you and I are going to have a talk.” She gestured to the seat next to her, and Anna came and sat back down.

  “You’re scaring me,” Anna said.

  “Frankly, you should be scared.” The Magician placed a hand on her knee.

  The Hermit cleared his throat, signaling for the Magician to be more sensitive.

  “Anna, what we are about to tell you is going to change everything.” The Hermit looked at her, a calmness in his amber eyes. “But you are strong, and our hope is that it will set you on a new path.”

  Anna eyed the Magician, uncharacteristically harried and anxious. She fidgeted with the golden serpent belt that wound around her red velvet robes. The emerald eyes of the snakehead clasp gleamed in the candlelight.

  “I’m not very good at this kind of thing. . . .” the Magician began, wringing her hands. “The King is not your father, Anna,” she blurted.

  The Fool and the Hermit looked at each other and shook their heads. The Magician really wasn’t good at this kind of thing.

  “What do you mean?” Anna said.

  “Your real father was a great magician named Marco Russo. He was the most powerful magician that ever existed.” She paused. “He was also the King’s best friend since childhood. And my brother.”

  “Your brother? You are not my aunt?” Anna raised her brows in confusion.
>
  “I am your aunt, but I am not the King’s sister. I am Marco’s sister. I was Marco’s sister.” The Magician stared down at her hands. She looked to the other two advisors for help.

  “The Hierophant King is not my father?” Anna asked.

  “No,” the three advisors said in unison.

  As her shock diminished, something like hope bloomed in Anna’s chest. She stood up.

  “Tell me the rest. I want to know all about my real father. Where is he now? How did I end up locked in this cell my whole life?” She started to pace. “Was my mother actually the Queen?”

  “Yes!” the Fool said eagerly. “That is true!”

  “Tell me more about Marco Russo,” Anna said, turning to the Magician. “Your brother.”

  “Not now!” the Magician snapped at her. “Hermit, go to the kitchen and get two days’ provisions. Anything from the larder you can manage. Tell them you’re going on one of your silent retreats and you need supplies.” The Magician looked up as if she were checking an imaginary list in her head. “Clothes too. A warm cloak, boots.”

  “Where can I get those tonight?” the Hermit asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Steal them if you have to.”

  The Hermit nodded and pulled the hood of his own soft gray cloak over his head, covering his amber eyes and waves of prematurely gray hair. He motioned to the Fool to follow.

  Anna looked on, shock taking hold once more. Her mouth hung half-open as she watched the scene unfold before her.

  Anna and the Magician watched them leave, Bembo tucked into the silk handkerchief at the top of the Fool’s staff. Then the Magician turned to Anna, who stared back at her like she was mad. “I know. You want answers.”

  “Why am I hearing this for the first time? Why now?” Anna’s shock was turning to anger, but she wasn’t sure where to direct it.

  “When your mother died in childbirth . . .” The Magician paused.

  Anna waved her aunt on to continue.

  “The King hadn’t recovered from her betrayal, and when she died, it was too much for him to bear. He was so full of rage, and you were just a baby. My niece, my brother’s child, for stars’ sake. I didn’t know what the King was capable of. So I struck a bargain with him.” The Magician peered at Anna now, her eyes filled with tears. Anna reached for her hand. The Magician let her hold it for a moment and then pulled it back.

  “What sort of bargain?” Anna asked.

  “I asked that he let me raise you. That I be responsible for you—for your education and upbringing. As long as I gave up my magic. I handed over my wand and my potions—everything.”

  “You gave up your magic for me?” Anna put her hand to her mouth.

  “I never really thought of it like that. If I wanted to keep doing magic, I would’ve had to flee the kingdom. But I couldn’t leave you. I don’t think I would have gotten very far anyway. The King became especially vigilant after your mother’s death.”

  “Vigilant how?” Anna asked.

  “That’s when he established his idea of fixed fates. He banned magic, as you’ve gathered. He became tyrannical. When a subject was born, he named their craft and even who they would marry one day. He closed the gates to trade, set rigid curfews, and—”

  “He locked me in this Tower.” Anna clenched her fists.

  “He did. I was able to visit you every day, but I could not let you out.” The Magician pulled her long braid over her shoulder and ran her hand over it. “But the Fool, the Hermit, and I were worried about the King snapping one day. I think in some ways we’ve been preparing for it all along. I never trusted him with your safety, Anna. This situation”—she gestured around them at the Tower—“always seemed precarious at best.”

  The Magician’s chest rose as she took in a deep breath. “I have to leave you now. I should be at dinner, and I don’t want to give him any reason to be suspicious.” She patted Anna’s knee awkwardly. “We’ll be back at dawn, and we’ll get you out of here.”

  “How?” Anna looked at her, incredulous.

  The Magician lowered her voice and looked around. “The King took my supplies, but I have been practicing without them for many years in secret. I knew this day would come.”

  Anna bit her lip.

  “My magic is significantly weaker without my wand and potions, but it’s not useless. Performing spells just drains my energy.”

  The little spark of hope in Anna’s chest grew larger. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “We were forbidden from discussing any of this with you, Anna. But now I think we should have told you much sooner.” She got up to go, but stopped and turned to Anna. “Now it’s your turn to tell me something. How do you know about the Moon?”

  “It has come to me in my dreams for as long as I can remember. It became my muse, my inspiration for the worlds I wove.”

  “And that is what you told the King?”

  Anna nodded.

  “When Marco died, the Queen was utterly devastated, and told the King that her love for him would never die. Your mother said that she and her unborn baby had a connection with Marco that could not be broken because he had taken the form of the Moon, and he was untouchable.”

  Anna’s eyes sparkled.

  “The Queen’s assertion became a legend that swept through the entire kingdom. Marco was a beloved man. He was kind, and much better with people than I am. He would visit the peasant children and produce sweets and warm bread for them. No one would ever go hungry if he was near.” The Magician wrinkled her nose and twisted her serpent belt. “He was a wonderful older brother. No one could make me laugh like he could.”

  Anna raised her eyebrows at the Magician.

  “Right. No one else could even make me laugh.” The Magician looked out Anna’s window. Rain pounded against the walls of the Tower. “It’s really storming now. Be sure to light that fire.”

  Anna joined the Magician at the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass. “So everyone believed the legend?”

  “Yes. I think the people were so grieved by his loss, the story offered comfort. People told the legend to their children at bedtime. It made the King irate. He couldn’t stop his subjects from looking up at night and saying a little prayer to Marco.”

  “But there is no moon here,” Anna said.

  “That was part of the bargain as well,” she said. “I was to banish the Moon, and if I succeeded, the King would let you live. Here, locked away in the Tower, but alive.”

  “You were so powerful that you banished the Moon?” Anna gasped. “And I’ve just told the King that the Moon, Marco, has spoken to me in my dreams since I was a little girl.” The realization slowly sank in.

  “You’re not safe here anymore, Anna. And there’s one more thing.” The Magician frowned. “We need to destroy your tapestries before you go.”

  Anna gaped at the Magician. “Destroy them?” Heat rose in her chest. “Absolutely not. You know how long I have spent weaving these worlds.”

  “That is exactly why you have to do it, Anna. You wove these tapestries into existence, and we have no idea how powerful they might be. You can’t take them with you, and you can’t leave them here with the King.”

  “I won’t destroy my work. Could you hide them?”

  “The King would find them. I know it’s difficult, Anna, but it would be like leaving pieces of yourself in his possession.” The Magician crossed the room to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning. Try to get some sleep.” She paused. “You’ll make more, Anna. Trust in that.” The Magician slipped out into the rain and locked Anna in for the night.

  A great storm was raging outside the dining hall. The Fool could barely hear the pounding of the rain over the chatter of the King’s court and the clanking of dishes, but he still jumped every time a flash of lightning lit the vast hall in eerie blue l
ight. These were not good spying conditions. Despite being seated so near the King, he could not hear a word the man said.

  A bubbling seafood stew was served, brimming with mussels, shrimp, crab claws, and whitefish. The crowd around the table, men and women alike, some noble, some cabinet members, decorated knights, spouses, and other hangers-on at court, tore huge chunks of warm, just-baked bread and dipped it into the stew’s savory broth. Forty of them, loud and raucous, gulping down good red wine, happy to be indulging inside the great hall while the storm surged outside.

  The King didn’t touch his meal, though the stew was one of his favorites.

  The Fool looked down the length of the spread and tried to catch the eye of the Magician or the Hermit. The table seemed to go on forever and ever, stretching across the hall. Tapestries that paled in comparison to Anna’s, embroidered simply with the King’s purple-and-gold crest, hung from the giant stone walls. The Fool caught the eye of Drake at the other end of the table and gave him a small smile.

  Drake was seated next to the other young squires and the knights they served. The Fool wished like mad that he were sitting with his friends or his lover. But that would never happen, not tonight or any other night. His job was to entertain the King after the meal.

  Across the room, the Fool turned his attention back to the King, who had spent the entire meal speaking to Senator Bassett.

  “Might I bring Bembo up for a brief visit before you sleep this evening, Sire?” The Fool held the little dog up and whispered in his ear. “Put on your cutest, most irresistible dog-face. This is for Anna, Bembo.” Bembo lifted one paw up toward the King in a wave.

  That did it.

  * * *

  Once in his private apartments, the King removed his rings and clenched and unclenched his fingers. His valet took his outer robes from his shoulders.

  He started a game of fetch with Bembo, throwing a ball made from yarn for him to return. The Fool looked on while the Senator tapped his foot impatiently, his long, thin face pinched. Finally the King collapsed into a large oak chair, and Bembo jumped up onto his lap. Senator Bassett followed the King’s lead and took a seat near him.