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“The looking glass is infused with magic from Bavaria,” he said. “It is no ordinary glass—this has the ability to show your future.” He ran his hands down the front of his very nice waistcoat, puffing out his chest a bit. “To my knowledge, it has near one hundred percent accuracy with showing who your husband shall be. Most young women leave here quite satisfied.”
How extraordinarily disappointing.
“Is that all it does?” I asked. “I thought it showed one’s future. What if there is no marriage in mine? Will it not show my career or any other part of my life, then? There are those who prefer to not marry anyone. What does the looking glass show them?”
Andreas gave me the sort of look one made when passing a foul chamber pot. To his credit, his tone was still quite cordial when he spoke. “In order for me to work the spell properly, I’ll need to secure your hands with a bit of ribbon behind your back.” He produced a thick, black satiny ribbon from his coat, allowing its end to flutter down in dramatic fashion. “And place a cover across your eyes. Spellwork is very fickle, you see.”
I pursed my lips, hoping to contain the unpleasant retort that had sprung to mind. Now I understood why they called him the Fool. He’d have to be one to think I’d agree to being tied up and blindfolded while alone with him. Was there any young man in this carnival who wasn’t a miscreant? After a minute, I said, “Indeed, I imagine it is fickle.”
He sighed, the first unscripted sound that he’d uttered. “Mephistopheles thinks it will be good practice for the finale. He said the blindfold provides the right amount of flair.”
I stared at the foggy-looking glass, unconvinced such a dingy thing could possess any flair. “Well, since Mephistopheles isn’t here, I think we’re safe from listening to his demands.” I glanced around, focus falling to a deck of cards. I pointed them out. “I’d prefer to have a tarot reading. It might be useful in our investigation.”
Andreas didn’t seem very keen on disobeying the ringmaster, but smiled. “As you wish.”
Without further comment, I situated myself on the cushioned stool and kept my attention fastened on the cards he shuffled. I only saw the backs of them, but they were beautifully done—painted by a skilled artist. They were darker than night and had silver filigree flourishes at each corner and a black full moon with a pearly crescent on one side. Silver stars were placed above, below, and to each side of the moon within a moon.
Andreas caught me admiring them and held one up. “May I present the one and only Cirque d’Eclipse tarot.” He smiled shyly at my raised brows and added, “Mephistopheles wishes for the Moonlight Carnival’s theme to be present in every detail, even something as small and insignificant as tarot cards.”
He turned the card one way, then the next, showing off the magnificent shine of the silver lines, but never revealing the image on the front. Two interlocking eights lay at the top and bottom of the cards, reminding me of something else I couldn’t quite place.
“Did you paint those?” I asked, doing my best to keep my hands to myself. I longed to flip them over and see the fine artwork I knew had to be present on the other side. “They are absolutely magnificent. I’ve never seen paint shimmer like that before.”
“I did not,” he said, shaking his head. “Mephistopheles made these himself. He prefers to—Mephistopheles teaches everyone cartomancy and tarot. We’re unable to join the carnival until we’re proficient.” He chuckled and continued shuffling the cards, leaving me to wonder at what he didn’t say.
“So every performer is well versed on both playing cards and tarot?”
Andreas nodded, but didn’t elaborate. “Is this your first experience with tarot?”
Aside from the bodies that were being staged, though I didn’t feel it was the appropriate response. Instead I nodded absently, as a new thought wedged itself into my brain. I watched the fortune-teller shuffle the cards, thoughts spinning. If Mephistopheles was into crafting cards, could he be the person leaving them with the bodies? I shook myself out of that nonsensical thought. He was no murderer. I watched Andreas again; he obviously was proficient with tarot and the various meanings. But so was every other performer, thanks to Mephistopheles.
“If you’re the fortune-teller, why does everyone need to know the card meanings?”
Andreas scratched the back of his neck. “People pay a decent sum for their futures. When we’re in a new town, we often set up multiple tents that feature tarot readings or go to different pubs. Sometimes Sebastián plays the role, sometimes even Jian. We can triple our income. It’s good business. Now.” Andreas set the cards facedown before me. “It is your turn. Shuffle the deck until you feel the first one speak to you. Beware—it might only be a whisper, so listen closely.”
I reached for the deck, then drew my hand back. “What if the cards don’t say anything?”
“They will. Closing your eyes and focusing on a single question helps,” Andreas said. “How do you feel about yourself and your path? Think of only that and close your eyes and shuffle. The answer will make itself known.”
I did as I was bid, unable to help feeling ridiculous as I shuffled one card to the next, concentrating on a multitude of emotions. That the cards could possibly tell me something about myself that I didn’t already know was foolish. How I’d been taken with the idea of visiting the fortune-teller was a testament to how much this silly carnival was affecting my best judgment. Maybe Andreas was called the Fool after the people he attracted to his tent, like myself.
Suddenly, I felt a slight pull in my center… a strange bit of resistance to shuffling to the next card. My eyes flew open, how in the—
“See? Spirits speak in whispers and tugs.” Andreas smiled his patient smile and tapped the table in front of him. He certainly didn’t look like a killer when he wore that expression, but I’d not rule him out based on that. “Place the first one here, lay it facedown. We’ll do a six-card spread and then flip them over once they’ve all been pulled. All right?”
“All right.” I inhaled deeply, unsure of the validity of it, but the alternative was watching Uncle spear his vegetables and bicker with Mrs. Harvey over the dessert course.
“This time I want you to focus on your heart’s deepest desire. What is a truth you hide even from yourself?”
I closed my eyes tightly, unsure of how I’d find something hidden from me. Once I felt that same odd resistance I pulled another card. The next four questions I needed to concentrate on were my fears, what was working with me in life, what forces were conspiring against me, and what the outcome of it all would be. Satisfied that I’d taken my part seriously, Andreas flipped the first card over, revealing a gnarled, bearded man standing alone at the top of a frozen mountain peak, the sky a swirling black and gray behind him.
“Ah. The Hermit. Since this card indicates how you feel about yourself, I’d wager you’re struggling with an internal conflict. You likely have many questions, are feeling alone, and perhaps have run out of patience. Now is the time to retreat until you find answers to what troubles you.”
“Hmm.” I blinked down at the card, disbelief dragging my mouth into a frown. It was luck. Stupid luck that the first card held a shred of truth. I was feeling alone and in need of answers. I had to figure out so many mysteries, and because of my bargain with Mephistopheles, I couldn’t even recruit Thomas for some of the problems I had. Things would be so much easier with my partner—I hated retreating on my own.
Unwilling to give anything away, I flipped over the next card. A young masked man danced in a disjointed manner, his outfit crude and clownlike. Clearly my inner spirit was feeling like a court jester. Fabulous. According to this card, the thing I longed for most was to be a fool. Though I supposed it was also accurate. This entire evening was a foolish distraction I could ill afford, an
d yet here I sat, having my cards read like a gullible mark.
