Laura Resnick - The Fortunes of Temperance.pdf - Laura Resnick - margozap

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The Fortunes of Temperance

by Laura Resnick

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First published in Lamps on the Brow, July 1998

Fictionwise

www.Fictionwise.com

Science Fiction

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It was a lovely morning in Tarotville as I strolled down Celestial

Avenue the other day, heading towards the center of town. After buying a

couple of cosmic reminders and a minor magic potion in Destiny Square, which

was seething with shoppers, I spotted my old friend Strength in the distance

and waved her down.

"How lovely to see you, Temperance!" Strength exclaimed when we

embraced. "But how ever did you pick me out of this crowd?"

I warily eyed the animal which has been her constant companion for as

long as I've known her. "How many other people go around town with their hands

clamped over a bad-tempered lion's mouth?"

"Oh, yes, of course," she said absently, releasing me to regain control

of the beast's jaws before he could maul a passing shaman.

Strength was looking as ... well, as _strong_ as ever. She told me

she's still seeing the Hierophant -- which means they've been together for

nearly a year now! They're not talking marriage yet, but they're making plans

to rent a citadel together, so it's a pretty serious relationship. Things are

generally going well for her, though she got very animated at one point and

nearly lost her grip on her frisky lion's mouth while complaining about the

Devil, who's _still_ involved in that property dispute with her over the

Tower.

Just before we parted, she warned me to keep a low profile, since Death

had recently been seen riding into town.

"Rumor has it that he's come for the ex-King of Pentacles, who just

hasn't been himself since losing the last election. However," Strength pointed

out, "it's never wise to be complacent about Death, so we should all watch our

step today."

Keeping this good advice in mind, I hurried towards my destination: a

modest purple-trimmed cottage in Zodiac Street, which is right next to the

renovated castle where the Magicians Guild meets on the second night of every

full moon. Madame Rabinowitz, my Tarot Reader, rents the cottage from the

Hermit at a very good price, though after nearly twelve years in this

location, she has yet to meet her landlord in the flesh.

The small waiting room was crowded, as usual. Some Tarot Readers have

been losing business to the latest craze, psych-o-therapy, which has caught on

even faster than most fads. _Some_ Readers, I say; but not Madame Rabinowitz,

whose calendar is usually filled weeks in advance.

Sure, I know that some Readers just go through the motions, tell

seekers what they want to hear, and collect their fee. It's true that some

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people without sufficient training or proper credentials call themselves

Readers and try to make up for their deficiencies by charging lower fees. Me,

I figure you get what you pay for, and I have no sympathy with someone who

realizes too late, as did the Fool, that they made a tragic mistake in making

major decisions based on such bogus Readings.

Madame Rabinowitz, on the other hand, graduated with honors from the

Academy of Divination with specialties in Tarot and Palmistry. Upon completing

her studies, she interned with the now-famous Intuitive Arts Institute. Five

years after setting up her own practice, she became the first woman ever to be

elected President of the International Society of Divinative Practitioners.

However, credentials alone don't make a Reader as successful as Madame

Rabinowitz. It's a client-oriented business, after all. In addition to her

academic achievements, Madame Rabinowitz possesses a sympathetic aura and ease

of manner which almost always ensure that a client returns to her, rather than

abandoning her for some newcomer offering brash guarantees or lower rates.

I first went to see Madame Rabinowitz when trying to decide whether or

not to end my relationship with the Page of Cups. He was sweet, faithful, and

usually brought good news, but he simply refused to grow up. I just didn't

know what to do. Several Readings with Madame Rabinowitz, however, revealed

how my own fears of loneliness kept me clinging to a dead-end relationship and

castigating my partner for an immaturity which, to be fair, was an essential

component of his nature. So I dumped my lover and have been consulting with

Madame Rabinowitz ever since.

Oh, sure, loyal as I am, even _I_ have occasionally been seduced away

-- only temporarily! -- by intriguing new fads. In fact, I've even tried

psych-o-therapy. I know what you're thinking: whacky, fringe-element,

superstitious nonsense aimed strictly at the gullible. Now, while I must admit

that I decided after only a few sessions that psych-o-therapy really wasn't

for me, I have to point out that such narrow-minded opinions are unfair --

especially when voiced by those who've never tried it (which is invariably the

case). After all, many sophisticated people believe there is some merit in

psych-o-therapy, and there's no denying that some people seem to find genuine

comfort in it. So who's to say that there's absolutely _nothing_ of value

there?

For my part, I found that the psych-o-therapist (that's what they call

them) was _much_ more interested in discussing my past than my future, and he

seemed utterly fixated on my childhood and my relationship with my parents. I

was briefly reassured by his interest in my dreams, but then I was shocked to

discover he couldn't interpret them to predict the future. Indeed, it was his

bizarre comments about my dreams and what he believed they revealed about my

relationship with my father, of all things, that convinced me I should stop

attending those sessions!

I recognized several of the people in Madame Rabinowitz's waiting room

today, including the Queen of Cups, who was looking as prosperous as ever

(read: _fat_). I said hello and asked how her dragon is doing; she's an active

member of BRIAR (Beast Rescue, Intervention, And Rehabilitation), saving

abandoned, abused, or thoroughly misunderstood animals and eventually finding

adoptive homes for them. I could tell by her puzzled expression that she had

no idea who I was (well, these political wives do meet a _lot_ of people), so

I reminded her that we'd sat next to each other last year at one of the Hanged

Man's notoriously unique dinner parties -- which was when she'd told me about

the dragon she'd recently saved from execution over trumped-up arson charges.

It turns out the dragon is fine, but she has yet to find anyone to

adopt him, since everyone still clearly remembers the publicity surrounding

him last year. I suggested that changing his name, which is Blaze, might be

advisable. Meanwhile, she asked me to sign a petition prohibiting the capture,

transport, sale, and slaughter of sea monsters. I finished doing so just as

she was called in for her Reading with Madame Rabinowitz.

The Knight of Swords had been just ahead of the Queen of Cups, so he

exited the Reading room as she entered. I was surprised, pleased, and

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chagrined all at once (the chagrin was because I was wearing an old gown and

hadn't done anything with my hair). I had met the Knight briefly on All Souls

Night and, in the course of our conversation, had suggested he come here for a

Reading. Since he's more into entrail-interpretation and Rune stones, I had

the impression he just wasn't taking me seriously. Evidently he'd been more

moved by my arguments than I had realized, for here he was.

He smiled and kissed my hand. "Temperance! I was hoping I'd see you

here."

"Really?" I blurted. "I mean ... Hello! I'm so glad you decided to give

Madame Rabinowitz a chance."

He shrugged in that devil-may-care way which had first attracted me and

said, "Well, why not?"

Okay, I admit it: I am dangerously drawn to the bad boy type. I mean

... the Knight of Swords! _Everyone_ knows his reputation; but I just can't

seem to help myself. Hoping he'd ask for my telewave number before leaving, I

stammered, "And how did it go? I mean, do you think you'll be coming back?"

He stroked my hand lightly before finally releasing it. "Well, Tarot

cards aren't sheep's entrails, that's for sure."

"You were disappointed?"

"Let's just say the experience didn't blow me out of the moat."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I hope you didn't find it a total waste of your lucre."

Madame Rabinowitz isn't cheap, and knights, after all, don't make that much

money.

He smiled slowly. "Not entirely," he murmured -- and then asked for my

number!

Madame Rabinowitz was running late, as usual, so after the Knight of

Swords left, I spent the next half hour silently examining the ramifications

of getting involved with him. I knew that Strength would tell me to forget

about the guy, that any relationship between us was bound to end in tears.

However, I always believe that it's important to take a risk now and then, as

long as it's a measured one and you don't go overboard or lose your head.

After all, a life of caution and reserve is no better than a life of reckless

abandon.

Now you might think I would consult Madame Rabinowitz about affairs of

the heart today, especially after my encounter with the Knight, but I had come

here with serious matters to divine, and I didn't intend to leave today

without resolving these more pressing issues. Besides, until it was absolutely

certain that the Knight would never return to Madame Rabinowitz's and

therefore could not possibly be considered a client of hers, it would be

inappropriate for me to intrude upon their confidential relationship by asking

her to do a Reading about him for me.

Dressed in a conservative purple-and-red silk kaftan with discreet gold

coins dangling from her ears, neck, and waist, Madame Rabinowitz greeted me

warmly when I entered the Reading room. She apologized, as usual, for the

delay.

"I had to lie down for a few minutes after that last appointment," she

explained. "Doing a Reading of the Gypsy Spread always gives me psychic

indigestion." (The Queen of Cups has a _very_ complicated personal life.)

She was feeling clear-headed now and ready to begin my Reading. I

explained that I was currently contemplating an important decision, but added

nothing more; Madame Rabinowitz is not one of those undertrained charlatans

who needs the client to lead the way. Merely knowing the general purpose of

the client's visit is enough to help her choose the correct spread for the

occasion and proceed from there.

She began by choosing a Significator card (the card representing _me_

in the spread) for my Reading, selecting the same one she usually chooses: the

Housekeeper. It represents good management, adaptation, coordination, and

modification. Next she asked me to shuffle the deck of cards, reminding me

that it was very important for me to shuffle thoroughly and, as I did so, to

concentrate on the question I wanted answered today. As instructed, when I

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finished shuffling, I cut the pack into three piles towards the _left_, with

my _left_ hand; then Madame Rabinowitz picked up the cards with _her_ left

hand and gathered the three piles back into one -- moving left, of course.

(Neglecting such essential details is where many lesser Readers go wrong from

the very beginning.)

This done, Madame Rabinowitz then closed her eyes and began meditating,

abandoning her physical being in pursuit of her divine center, communing with

the direct intuition which is the gateway to spiritual illumination. I waited

and tried not to scratch.

She opened her eyes after about ten minutes, then turned up the first

card in the spread. It was the Bungee Jumper.

"It seems that you're considering a risky venture. You're about to leap

from a stable foundation into the void of the unknown, and you're afraid of

what will happen if your safety measures fail you."

Didn't I _tell_ you she was the best? She had just captured my concerns

in a nutshell! I have the opportunity to invest my time, skills, and money in

a new venture which _could_ reap fabulous financial rewards. However, I'd have

to quit my current job (managing the Dreamweavers Cooperative), which would

mean losing all my benefits and living on my savings until the new business

(Rent-A-Djinn) starts making a profit.

"This crosses her," Madame Rabinowitz murmured, turning over the second

card: the Banker. "Your primary worries about this new venture seem to be the

risk of financial ruin."

_Precisely._

Turning over the third card, Madame Rabinowitz revealed the past source

of my fears on this score: the Lawyer. I drew in a sharp breath, for an almost

palpable air of evil and greed seemed to emanate from the card.

"There was a devastating loss of property, money, personal resources,

and dignity somewhere in your past. Your well-being was completely destroyed

by a totally unprincipled person who expressed utterly insincere good

intentions. Ever since then, you've found it difficult to trust business

associates."

Talk about hitting the nail on the head! When I was but a young maiden,

my father's business partner was a fast-talker in three-piece vestments who

eventually turned out to be a liar, embezzler, thief, and fraud. My parents

lost everything: our castle, our chariot, our savings. I wouldn't have been

able to attend Magicks College if I hadn't managed to get a full scholarship.

Starting over from scratch, it was a long time before my father found the

Wheel of Fortune once again turning favorably in his direction.

The fourth card, the Divorcee, represented the most immediate

influences in my life. "You're growing discontented in your current situation,

feeling ready to break away and make a fresh start, striking out independently

on your own. You feel unappreciated and under-valued in your current position,

and you want to free yourself for more exciting possibilities."

Yes, my growing dissatisfaction with my current job was precisely what

attracted me to this opportunity to commit my professional skills and

financial resources to this new opportunity. Not surprisingly, Madame

Rabinowitz was going right to the heart of the matter.

"The fifth card," Madame Rabinowitz said. "The influences that _may_

come into being." She turned over the Rock Star. "You will be dealing with a

person or persons of exceptional talent, but you fear they will be difficult

to work with: unreliable, temperamental, egocentric, unreasonable, vain,

neurotic, demanding..."

Yes, djinns can be all of that, and more. I think the public would

welcome the existence of an agency which would deal with the day-to-day

hassles of coping with djinns, renting them out on a temporary

need-a-wish-granted basis, satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Indeed,

when my potential partner in the deal came to me with the idea, I was

thunderstruck by its simple genius and wondered why no one has thought of this

before! Frankly, we'd be able to charge exorbitant prices, keeping a hefty

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commission for ourselves; for all of their faults, djinns would definitely

rather pay a big commission to an agent than simply be out of work.

However, while my partner would be in charge of the financial aspects

of the business, _I'd_ be in charge of the djinns, and I was alternately

intrigued by the challenges and worried about the potential problems of

managing them, dealing with their fragile egos, and also dealing with clients

whom they might (in a fit of mischief) insult, torment, cheat, or cast a spell

upon.

"The Nine of Whirligigs, the sixth card," said Madame Rabinowitz,

"represents your own hopes in the matter. You would like to see this become a

profitable venture, and you believe that it _can_ be -- as long as you're not

overwhelmed or sabotaged by opposing forces. The seventh card..." She paused

as she turned it over, "reveals the forces working against your hopes. Hmmmm.

The Ace of Phalluses." She met my gaze. "You perceive the potential of

conflict with a man."

Ah, yes, my partner in this potential deal: Pettifog Celestor. I didn't

know the man well. He had sought me out, since I have a good reputation and

the right qualifications for this opportunity. His credentials and references

all seemed to be in order, and he seemed to have the necessary financial

backing. Unfortunately, he was rather overbearing and, well, I just wasn't

sure what to make of him.

The eighth card, representing the opinions of my friends and relatives,

was the Supernova. No big surprise. They all thought I was nuts to consider

giving up a good job with great benefits (including full hex insurance) to

invest both time and money in a new, independent, experimental venture -- and

one dealing with djinns, at that!

"The tenth card, the final card," Madame Rabinowitz said, "represents

the forces which will operate in the near future, influencing the outcome of

events and working on your fears and hopes."

The tenth card in the spread, of course, would influence all of the

others. I watched tensely as she slowly turned it over.

"Oh, no!" I cried upon seeing it.

Even Madame Rabinowitz gasped. "_The Senator,"_ she whispered in

horror.

The cosmic warning couldn't possibly be any clearer. _The Senator_: a

self-serving, insincere man of low morals and no principles; a liar, a

trickster, an adulterer, and a thief; a despoiler of honest people and

pillager of communities.

"Madame Rabinowitz!" I cried. "Thank heavens I came to you in time!

Without your guidance, a terrible fate would have befallen me!"

Could there possibly be a more emphatic indication that I must on no

account go into business with Pettifog Celestor? I was dreadfully disappointed

that, without a suitable investor, I would now have to continue managing the

Dreamweavers Guild for the time-being. Nonetheless, I was immensely relieved

to benefit from this celestial intervention before I'd fallen into the

clutches of a man deceitful, amoral, scheming, and wicked enough to be

represented by the Senator in my Reading!

I gave Madame Rabinowitz a large tip, so grateful was I to her for

snatching me from the jaws of karmic disaster before it was too late. Then,

having learned just what kind of a man Pettifog Celestor really was, I did

what any responsible person would do: I went out into the street and asked

which way Death had last been seen riding. I went off in search of him,

tracking him down without much trouble, since everyone's always alert when

Death comes to town.

Hurrying down Harmony Lane, I rounded the corner onto Fortune Avenue

and practically walked straight into the back end of Death's pale horse.

Thrilled to have found him before he left town, I cried, "Excuse me, Death? I

have a -- Ooops! I'm terribly sorry."

The ex-King of Pentacles was kneeling in the street, his hands clasped

before him. Death had evidently been just on the verge of reaping.

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