In Her Rival's Arms. Alison Roberts
conversation. That’s how this whole business started. Way back, before my time here, but I’ve had plenty of people tell me about it. They came to have their cards read and Maggie became a magnet for anyone with a problem. And she’s such a warm and loving person she would offer them tea and cakes at the same time and it all just grew into a way she could make her living.’
She took a sip of her wine and Nic couldn’t look away. He watched her bottom lip touch the glass and the way her throat rippled as she swallowed. He picked up his own glass to find it contained a surprisingly good red wine.
‘Back then,’ Zanna continued, ‘before the city centre spread and the houses gave way to office blocks and hotels, there were streets and streets of cottages. Houses that had big gardens with lots of fruit trees. People kept chickens. Mr Briggs down the road even kept a goat. So many people. This was the big house but everyone was welcome. They all adored Maggie and this place was like a community centre. I remember it being like that when I was young.’
‘But the houses have gone. There’s no community now.’ Okay, it was sad but things changed. Progress happened.
‘Some of the people still come back and talk about the old days. They can’t believe that the house and Maggie are just the same as ever and they love sharing the memories. She always promises she’ll still be here the next time they come.’
She wasn’t here now. If she was, Nic might have been tempted to ask to have his cards read so that he could see if she was as amazing as Zanna made her sound. Had she really helped solve problems for so many people?
‘Can you read the cards?’
Her eyes widened. Surprise or shock? ‘I’ve grown up with them...yes... I’m not as good as Maggie but I can certainly read them.’
‘Would you read them for me?’
The hesitation was obvious. ‘Are you sure you want me to?’
So that they could have a really meaningful conversation? So that he could sit here a while longer and put off thinking about why he was really here? Maybe even find a solution to his own problem?
Nic held her gaze. Long enough for a silent message that had nothing to do with fortune-telling. He wanted more than his cards read and that want was getting stronger by the minute.
‘Yeah...’ His voice was husky. ‘I’m sure.’
HE HAD NO IDEA, did he, how much could be revealed in a reading? He was drinking his wine, leaning back in his chair and watching curiously as Zanna went through the ritual of lighting the five fat candles on the arms of the candelabra and opening a drawer to extract a tiny bottle of lavender oil that she sprinkled on the black velvet square.
‘To cleanse the space,’ she explained.
‘Right...’ The corner of his mouth quirked but his gaze had enough heat that she could only handle the briefest contact.
Was it what she was doing that had captured his attention so intently or was he watching her? Adding the impression to wondering what she was about to find out about him made her feel oddly nervous. She needed another mouthful of her wine.
‘The first thing I need to do is pick a card to represent you as the significator.’
‘The what?’
‘Significator. The querent. The seeker of knowledge.’ This was good. She could hide her nerves by doing something she knew she was good at. She spread the cards, face up, in front of her. The sound Nic made was incredulous.
‘But they’re beautiful... They look like artwork reproductions.’
‘This set is based on one of the oldest known packs. Tarot cards have been around for five hundred years. The first known cards were painted in Italy during the Renaissance. Back around the second half of the fifteenth century.’
Was he impressed with her knowledge? Why did she want him to be? Zanna glanced up but Nic was staring at the cards. Many pictures depicted people and each card had a title.
‘I don’t like that one,’ he muttered. ‘I hope Death isn’t going to appear in my line up.’
‘The meaning isn’t necessarily literal. The death card means that something must come to an end. Whether or not it’s painful depends on the person’s capacity to accept and recognise the necessity for that ending.’ The words came easily because they’d been learned many years ago. ‘Sometimes you have to let go of an old life in order to take the opportunity of a new and more fulfilling one.’
‘That’s very true.’ Yes, he was impressed. ‘Something I’ve always lived by, in fact.’ There was a question in his eyes now. Or was it an accusation? ‘Do you?’
Zanna blinked. This wasn’t supposed to be about her. She retreated into card lore as she looked away. ‘The cards are designed to portray a story. Kind of the rites of passage of an archetypal journey through life. Everybody faces the same sorts of challenges and problems—the same as they did five hundred years ago. People don’t change and it’s often a surprise to find how similar we are to those around us. Every situation is different but the challenges can be the same.’
‘You don’t really believe you can predict the future, do you?’
This time, Zanna was able to hold his gaze. ‘I believe that particular choices and situations have led to where one is in life and the response to that position presents future choices and situations. Understanding why and how some things have happened is the best way to cast a more conscious influence on the future.’ She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Are you over forty years of age?’
That made him blink. ‘Do I look like I’m over forty?’
A bubble of laughter escaped. ‘You could be a well-preserved specimen. How old are you?’
‘Thirty six. How old are you?’
‘That’s not the least bit relevant. You’re the one I need to find a card for.’
‘Hey...I answered your question.’ There was an unguarded tone in his voice. A peep at a small boy having a playground conversation perhaps. It gave her a soft buzz of something warm.
‘I’m twenty-eight,’ she relented. ‘Oh, yes...This is definitely you.’ She picked up the card. ‘The King of Pentacles.’
‘Why?’
‘He represents a strong, successful individual with a gift of manifesting creative ideas in the world. He also represents status and worldly achievement and has the Midas touch.’
He looked taken aback. Did he think that wearing well-worn leather and jeans would disguise his obvious lack of any serious financial hardship? That jacket had been expertly tailored to fit so well and the nails on the ends of those artistic fingers were beautifully manicured. His casual appreciation of the special wine she had chosen had been another giveaway. She placed the chosen card on the centre of the black cloth. Then she scooped up the rest of the pack and began shuffling the cards.
‘That’s a lot of cards.’
‘Seventy-eight.’ Zanna nodded. ‘The major Arcana that is the depiction of the journey and then the minor Arcana. Four suits of Cups, Wands, Swords and Pentacles. They represent elements and experiences.’ She spread the cards in a fan shape in front of Nic, facing down this time. ‘Formulate your question or think about a problem you want clarified,’ she invited. ‘You don’t have to tell me what it is. Then choose ten cards and hand them to me in the order selected.’
She placed the cards in set positions in the form of a Celtic cross. ‘This card over yours is the first one we look at. It’s the covering card. Where you are at the moment and the influences affecting you.’ She turned it over. ‘Hmm...interesting.’
He was sitting very still. He