God of Tarot (12 page)

Brother Paul and Reverend Siltz fell to. There was no blessing of the food; probably the several sects could not agree on the specific format, so had agreed by their Covenant to omit this formality. The soup was unfamiliar but rich; it had a pithy substantiality, like potato soup, with an unearthly flavor. If I may inquire—” he started.

“Wood soup,” Deacon Brown said immediately. “The Tree of Life nourishes us all, but it yields its sustenance more freely when boiled. We also eat of the fruit, but this is as yet early in the season and it is not ready.”

Wood soup. Well, why not? This secondary worship of the Tree was becoming more understandable. Perhaps it would be best if the God of Tarot did turn out to be one with the local Tree. If it were simply a matter of interpretation—but he would have to wait and see, not prejudicing his own mind.

Brother Paul finished his bowl. It had proved to be quite filling. Reverend Siltz immediately took it away. Apparently the Reverend wanted to be quite certain the others were satisfied with the visitor’s equilibrium, so left him alone at any pretext. Another indication of the strained relations here.

“If I may inquire without giving offense,” Brother Paul began, aware that offense was probably unavoidable if he were to proceed with his mission.

“You are not of our colony,” Deacon Brown said. “You do not know our conventions. I shall give them to you succinctly: speak no religion. In other matters, speak freely; we shall make allowances.”

Hm. He would be unable to honor that strictly, since his purpose here was thoroughly religious. But all in good time. “Thank you. I notice you employ a certain seeming symbolism that resembles that of the Tarot deck. Cups, for example. The Tarot equivalent of the suit of Hearts. Is this intentional?”

Everyone at the table smiled. “Of course,” the deacon agreed. “Every sect here has its own Tarot deck, or variant deck. This is part of our communal respect for the Tree of Life. We do not feel that it conflicts with our respective faiths; rather it augments them, and offers one of the few common bonds available to us.”

Brother Paul nodded. “It would seem that the concept of the Tarot was always associated with this planet, with visions drawn from the cards—”

“Not visions,” the deacon corrected him. “Animations. They are tangible, sometimes dangerous manifestations.”

“Yet not physical ones,” Brother Paul said, expecting to clarify what Reverend Siltz had claimed.

“Indeed, physical! That is why we require that you be protected when you investigate. Did the Communist not inform you?”

“He did, but I remain skeptical. I really don’t see how—”

The deacon brought out a pack of cards. “Allow me to demonstrate, if there is no protest from these, my companions of other faiths.” He glanced around the table, but no one protested. “We are in storm at the moment; it should be possible to—” He selected a card and concentrated.

Brother Paul watched dubiously. If the man expected to form something physical from the air…

A shape appeared on the table, forming as from cloud, fuzzy but strengthening. It was a pencil, or chopstick—

“The Ace of Wands!” Brother Paul exclaimed.

Deacon Brown did not reply; he was concentrating on his image. Reverend Siltz had quietly returned, however, and he picked up the commentary. “Now you evidently believe the Lemurian has made a form without substance, a mirror-reflection from the card he perceives. But you shall see.”

Siltz reached out and grasped the small rod between his thumb and forefinger. His hand did not pass through it, as would have been the case with a mere image; the wand moved exactly as a real one might. “Now I touch you with this staff,” Siltz said. He poked the end at the back of Brother Paul’s hand.

It was solid
. Brother Paul felt the pressure, and then a burning sensation. He jerked his hand away. “It’s hot!”

As he spoke, the wand burst into flame at the end, like a struck match. Siltz dropped it on the table, where it continued to flare. “Fire—the reality behind the symbol, the power of nature,” he said. “Someone, if you please—water.”

The representative of the Nation of Islam dealt a card from his own deck. He concentrated. Two ornate golden cups formed. Deacon Brown grabbed one and poured its contents over the burning stick. There was a hiss, and a puff of vapor went up.

Were they trying to fool him with magic tricks? Brother Paul knew something of sleight-of-hand; his own fingers were uncommonly dexterous. “May I?” he inquired, reaching toward the remaining cup.

To his surprise, no one objected. He touched the cup, and found it solid. He lifted it, and it was heavy. Extremely heavy; only pure gold could be as dense as this! He dipped one finger into its fluid, then touched that finger to his tongue. Water, surely! He sprinkled some on his burn, and it seemed to help. This was a solid, tangible, physical, believable cup, and physical water. Water, the reality behind the symbol, again, the female complement to the male fire. The Tarot made literal.

“Mass hypnosis?” Brother Paul inquired musingly. “Do all of you see and feel these things?”

“We all do,” Reverend Siltz assured him.

“May I experiment? I confess I am impressed, but I am an incorrigible skeptic.”

“Proceed,” Deacon Brown said. “We approve of skepticism, in your case. We do not need yet another dedicated cultist.” There was a murmur of agreement, though Brother Paul thought he detected a rueful tinge to it. At least these cultists were not overly sensitive about their situation! Probably they had been chosen to deal with him because they were the least fanatical of their respective sects.

“Then if I may borrow a Tarot deck—” One was handed to him. Though he was usually observant, his fascination with the current proceedings rendered the favor anonymous; he could not afterward recall whose deck he had borrowed. He riffled expertly through the cards, limbering his fingers. There had been a time when—but those days were best forgotten.

This was one of the popular medieval-style versions, with peasants and winged figures and children, rather than the more sophisticated modern designs. In this circumstance he was glad it was this type; a surrealistic deck could only have complicated an already incredible experience.

“I shall select a card,” Brother Paul said carefully. “I shall show it to all of you except one. And then that one shall have it and animate it for us, without looking at the rest of you. May I have a volunteer?”

“I will do it,” Deacon Brown said. “We of Lemuria are always happy to demonstrate the reality of our—” Someone coughed, and he broke off. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to proselytize.”

The deacon faced away, his bald pate glistening in the dim light from a window. The storm had brought a nocturnal gloom to the landscape, but now it was easing. Brother Paul selected the Three of Swords. It was a handsome card with a straight, red-bladed sword in the center enclosed by two ornate and curving scimitars, and a background of colored leaves. Silently he showed it to the others, then passed it to the deacon.

In a moment the picture was reproduced with fair accuracy. Three swords and some leaves hung in the air. Brother Paul reached out and touched one of the scimitars—whereupon all three swords fell to the floor with a startling clatter.

There was silence in the hall. Everyone at the other tables was watching now, silently. “Sorry,” Brother Paul said. “I fear my ignorant touch interfered. Allow me to try one more.” Privately he asked himself: if he had been able to accept the presence of Antares during matter transmission, why did he have so much trouble accepting these simple objects? And the answer came to him: because there were witnesses here. He could have imagined Antares; this present phenomenon went beyond imagination.

Brother Paul glanced about. Where were the wand, the cups, the swords? He saw none of them now. Had they vanished into that limbo whence they had come, or had they never really existed? Well, if someone were tricking him, he would have the proof in a moment.

Again he selected a card: the Four of Disks, with its four flowerlike disks, each centered by a four-leafed clover, and an ornate shield bearing the device IM. After he had shown it around, he passed it to the deacon. But, unbeknownst to his audience, he exchanged cards. The actual model was the Ace of Cups.

Now, if the Four of Coins formed, he would know it was mass hypnosis, for it had to have been compelled by the belief of others. But if the cup formed—!

The cup formed, huge and colorful, with a blue rim, a red lid, and a cross inscribed on its side.

“I think our guest is having a little fun with us,” Reverend Siltz remarked, unamused.

“Merely verifying the origin of the Animation,” Brother Paul said, shaken. “Do you all see the coin?”

“Cup, not coin,” Siltz said. “It is controlled by the one who makes it; our expectations are irrelevant.”

Evidently so! And the cup was so large that it could not have been concealed on the deacon’s person for a sleight-of-hand manifestation, even had the man been clever enough to work such a trick under Brother Paul’s experienced eye. This was a larger challenge than he had anticipated. Physical, concrete apparitions, willed consciously into existence!

“Impressive,” Brother Paul admitted. “Yet you seem to have good control over the situation. I had understood you were quite alarmed by untoward Animations.”

Reverend Siltz smiled grimly. “We were indeed, at first. But in the past year we have come to know more about these effects. We are assured of the reality of the Animations; it is God we have yet to compass.”

The deacon turned, and his cup faded out. “Any one of us might Animate God in his own image, but that would be merely opinion, not reality. It is vital that we know the truth.”

“Yet would I not Animate God in
my
own image?” Brother Paul inquired, troubled. This really was the point Siltz had raised in their private discussion.

“We must trust to your objectivity—and we shall send Watchers with you to assist,” Reverend Siltz said. He was not giving away any of his private attitude now! Did members of the Second Church Communist play poker? “They will also try to protect you from untoward manifestations.”

And such manifestations, as had been made clear, could be lethal! “May I try this myself? Here, now?” Brother Paul asked, feeling a slight shiver within him, as of stage fright.

“Do it quickly, for the storm is passing,” Deacon Brown said. “These effects are erratic at best; this has been an unusually good run. Normally it is necessary to go into the abyss of Northole to obtain such clear Animations. And that is dangerous.”

Brother Paul picked out the first of the Major Arcana: Key Zero, the Fool.

“No!” several voices cried at once.

“Do not attempt to Animate a living man,” Reverend Siltz said, evidently shaken, and his sentiment seemed to be shared by the others. “This could have unforeseen consequences.”

Brother Paul nodded. So they were not really so blasé about the phenomenon! If they had never attempted to Animate a man, they had not experimented very much. He knew where he had to begin. “Still, if I am to explore this phenomenon properly, I must be permitted to Animate anything that is in my power—and I would prefer to attempt it first here, under your informed guidance.”

The others exchanged glances of misgiving. They might belong to many opposing religions, but they had a certain unity here! “Your logic prevails,” Reverend Siltz said heavily. “If you must do this thing, it is better done here. We shall stand aside.”

Brother Paul sifted through the cards. In this deck, the Fool was titled
Le Mat
and garbed as a court jester. Not at all like Waite’s interpretation, in which the Fool was a noble but innocent lad about to step off a cliff, symbolic of man’s tremendous potential for aspiration and error. Other versions had a vicious little dog ripping the seat from the Fool’s pants, so that his bare buttock showed: the height of ridicule. He had seen one variant in which the Fool appeared to be defecating. Probably it was after all best to pass this one by, this time; to attempt it could indeed be Folly.

Key One was the Magician, or Juggler, performing his cheap tricks at a covered table. At the Order Station, Brother Paul himself was sometimes teased— very gently, of course, since no Brother would deliberately hurt anyone—about his supposed affinity with this card. They knew his background as a one-time cardsharp, and had observed his uncanny proficiency with mechanical things. Brother Paul accepted such allusions with good spirits, grateful for the camaraderie he had found within the Order after a prior life of—never mind. He preferred to think of himself as Everyman in quest of life’s ultimate meanings as symbolized by the objects resting on the table in the Vision Tarot card: a wand, a cup, a sword, and a coin, meaning fire, water, air, and earth respectively in the ubiquitous symbolism of the form. In that version, too, the cosmic lemniscate, or sidewise figure-eight, the symbol of infinity, hovered like a halo above the Magician’s head, and about his waist was clasped a serpent devouring its own tail: the worm Ouroborus, a symbol of eternity. All things in all space and time—that was the grandeur of the concept for which this modern Magician strived. But here in this deck, as a degraded trickster—no, pass it by also.

Key Two, here titled Juno. In Roman mythology, Juno was the wife of Jupiter and queen of the gods, counterpart to the Greek Hera. She was the special protectress of marriage and women. Her bird was the peacock, also represented in this card. Here she was a handsome female in a bright red dress, full-bosomed and bare-legged. But such an amazonian figure might not be well-received by this male-dominated assemblage. Pass her by, regretfully; even in her more common guise as the High Priestess (and the notorious Lady Pope!) she was a questionable choice.

Key Three, the Empress—a more mature and powerful woman than the preceding one. In many decks, the Priestess was the virginal figure, while the Empress was the mother figure. Here she sat on her throne; in other decks the throne was situated in a field of wheat. Had it really been her he had glimpsed when he emerged from the capsule, only hours ago? If so, he did not want to invoke her here in public. He would prefer to meet her privately, for there was something about her that attracted him. Pass her by, for now.