Chapter One
Marigold
Marigold left.
She had been waiting to leave.
She just needed the right excuse.
And it was here now, in her hand. A letter from her husband, which made her feel that her leaving was an act of kindness as much as it was the result of terrible selfishness. He–Topaz–her husband–should be free to be with the woman he loved. And she should be free of herself.
Before leaving, Marigold consulted a fortune teller with a deck of tarot cards. Her desperate restlessness in the palace was as yet disguised, even amongst her few friends, so she needed someone to confide in without consequences.
She met the man in an alley at midnight, wearing a peasant’s disguise. He wore a long, billowing, black cloak. Tall and thin, but surprisingly youthful looking when he let down his hood, the man opened his pale palm for the considerable coin he charged for meeting. Marigold gave it readily, and he led the way into a quiet corner of a nosy pub, the full moon shining indifferently above them.
Marigold had barely been out of the confines of the palace since her marriage to Topaz–king of the fire kingdom. So it surprised her to see people celebrating ordinary landmarks–birthdays, influxes of money–going about their days without the pomp and circumstance she was subjected to.
Court life suited her even less than she expected. She spent most of her time hiding out in the nursery with her children, or walking around and around the palace grounds, her thoughts making the same pattern as her body.
To be unrecognized and unknown here, with ordinary people, was like a tonic to her. She celebrated her feeling of freedom, even if she had to head back in the palace soon enough. Even if this cloaked figure frankly scared her; he radiated magical powers.
Luckily the soothsayer, called Slim, was all business and no foolishness, which Marigold appreciated. In their corner of the bar, he took out his deck and shuffled his cards without looking at them. Then he closed his eyes in concentration; they seemed to roll back in his head. Time passed. At length, he snapped his eyes open suddenly and gave a scathing look at something over Marigold’s shoulder.
“Leave us,” he said, and Marigold turned to see a man approaching her, perhaps for some flirtation. The man was instantly rattled by Slim’s voice and did as he was told.
Slim looked at Marigold. “Cut the deck,” he said, and she did.
After Marigold cut the deck and he laid down three cards. "First one is for past, the second for present, and last one for future," he said. Then he turned all the cards, and Marigold had no idea about the tarot interpretations. She simply looked at his face with fear and curiosity in her mind.
This soothsayer did not offer comfort as some did. Slim was known for his blunt honesty, and that’s why Marigold sought him out. If the cards were bad, he would not betray their meaning for anything.
He warned Marigold so now, sighing heavily and folding his arms.
“Do not cry,” he ordered. “I am not a healer with a light touch. If a man is going to die, I tell him when and how. It is my job. You can find solace for your bad fortune elsewhere.”
“Is it bad?” Marigold said quickly.
Slim looked impatient.
“That is for you to decide.”
Marigold steeled herself and nodded gravely. Slim’s quick, long fingers turned over the cards.
Past: an image with cups. Present: a tower. Her future card showed a long and winding road under moonlight.
While Marigold found herself holding her breath, Slim looked bored. He yawned hugely.
He began. “This is your past. It is to do with love, but for you, it signals a marriage of convenience.” His eyes shot up and flickered to Marigold. “I am never wrong, but I always have to ask. Am I right?”
Marigold gulped and nodded gravely.
“The tower,” he said. “Your present. You asked if your cards held anything bad. The tower may not be bad for everyone, but it is certainly not good. You are currently under intense mental stress. Stuck. Your mind feels captured by a demon at times. Possessed by another.”
Again, Marigold nodded.
“Future,” Slim began, gesturing to the last card. “This–this will be. You will flee, or submit to the tower forever. The only way you can escape your present and move into the future is by embarking on a journey. You see that what lies behind this traveller, in the card, is opulence. His cups are full–he has everything he needs to survive. But it is not enough. Something drives him into the hills, and, reluctantly perhaps, he follows it. While it may not seem that way to others, it is the only way forward for him: that is, taking this difficult road. For him, it is better than opulence.”
Marigold opened her mouth to speak, but just then, Slim swiped away the cards, shuffled them, and put them in his pocket. It didn’t matter much. The image of the tower was imprinted on her mind, and Marigold feared it would stay there forever.
