“I did notice that you wanted to speak,” Slim said, “but I cannot help you anymore. It is not because I am lazy just now–even though I am–” he yawned again, “but after decades in this business, I know for certain that any questions you may have been unanswerable by me. I have tried to answer these questions, as a young soothsayer, but I have often been wrong. And I hate to be wrong.”
Marigold produced several more coins.
“Humor me,” she said.
Slim sighed and lifted up his hand to motion for another pint. Once this was delivered, and once Slim had taken a long sip, he motioned for Marigold to proceed.
“Did the cards tell you…about a romance I once had?”
Slim nodded.
“The Two of Cups told me everything. Your obsession with the man who came before your husband. Your husband who, though friendly, you cannot love with any measure of passion.”
“Obsession?” Marigold asked in a high voice.
“Obsession,” Slim said sternly. “Again, I am sometimes wrong when I go outside the scope of the official reading, and I do hate to speculate when I know so many things for certain. But in this case, I am nearly certain: your past relationship was a farce. Unrequited obsession, not unrequited love. He offered you escape, perhaps. But nothing more. Your imagination turned him into a love object. It was not real.”
Slim took another long sip of his ale. “This man enjoys making women think they are in love with him. He has done it to other women. He still does it to other women. I know his type. It would be better for you to come to know it, too.”
“I need your advice,” Marigold demanded.
“No,” Slim said flatly.
Marigold produced more coins, and motioned to the bartender for another ale.
“If you truly are as good as they say, you will already know that I am not often insistent.”
“Fine then,” Slim said, pulling his hood up further over his head, as if not wanting to be seen giving “advice.” “You have paid handsomely. I have a woman, Peyton, that likes fine things. So our interests converge.” He motioned for her to continue.
“Should I stay, or should I go?”
“Is that a serious question? I just told you your future if you stay.”
“But I have two children,” Marigold explained. “I would have to leave them behind. They would think I do not love them.”
“And what is worse,” Slim said, holding up his hands to symbolize the two options, “to have a faceless mother for a time, or to watch that mother go mad with ennui and hypochondria?”
Marigold swallowed.
“What can you mean?”
“Do you remember where the fire kingdom used to house their mad?”
Marigold shook her head, and Slim smiled with all his teeth.
“It was in the palace tower, of course.”
“In the palace where I live?”
“Exactly. They’ve changed things as time has gone by, but that tower still carries the histories of the souls that languished there.”
Slim gathered up his cards, glugged the rest of his ale, and swept to his feet.
“People who go mad often do so because they have some unfinished business,” he said. “They are ignoring a call—an occupation, a passion, a purpose. Madness is a mysterious thing, and it is not always easy to determine the antidote—the call, that is. My ‘advice’ since you are so desperate to hear it, is to try to find your call, and quickly. Otherwise, your children will watch you deteriorate—a fate far worse than if you were to simply disappear.”
Slim started walking away, but Marigold almost shouted after him.
“But how can you know that?” she asked.
