God of Tarot Read online

  To his half-surprise, the Swami agreed. "The danger is this: the Animation effect is a manifestation of the fundamental power of Kundalini—the spirit force. Evoked without proper comprehension or controls, this is like conjuring Satan, like giving blocks of fissionable material to a child for play."

  "Oh, pooh!" Amaranth exclaimed. "Magic like this has been known and practiced and venerated for thousands of years. The only question is, whose god is responsible? You're just afraid it won't turn out to be your god."

  "Correct," the Swami agreed. "I worship no god; I seek only the ultimate enlightenment. This Animation is not a force of God at all, but a manifestation of uncontrolled Kundalini. In human history, Kundalini gone astray has been the cause of the evil geniuses of men like Attila the Hun and Adolph Hitler the Nazi. If you, Brother Paul of the Holy Order of Vision, evoke it now—and it is my fear that this capacity does indeed lie within you, the capacity to loose the full genie from the bottle, rather than the mere fragments of it we have hitherto seen—you may give form to a concentration of power that will destroy us all, that will exterminate the entire human colony of Planet Tarot."

  "An imaginary beast!" Amaranth scoffed.

  But Brother Paul was not so skeptical. The Swami had shown him some of the reasons for his concern, and they were impressive. What could the power of ki do, if it were to run amok? If this really were related to Animation... "I have seen some of the Animations, touched the forms myself," he said. "There is something here beyond our present comprehension. I know that other people have died exploring this mystery. Yet I am here to fathom it if I can; I believe my best course lies not in avoiding Animation, but in studying it with extreme caution and whatever safeguards are feasible. Knowledge is our most formidable weapon, especially against the unknown."

  "I expected that response, and respect it," the Swami said. "My purpose is only to make certain you appreciate the possible magnitude of the threat. I can do no more. Nor would I, under the Covenant."

  Brother Paul had expected a less restrained reaction. The Swami ranged from snappish intolerance to utter reasonableness without warning. "I understand there are to be assigned watchers, during my exploration. Perhaps you should be among them, to caution me where necessary."

  "I am already represented," the Swami said. "Yet the watchers are as nothing against the magnitude of this force."

  They had come up to the two standing figures. "Brother Paul," one said. He was an old man, white-haired but upright. "I am Pastor Runford, Jehovah's Witness. This is Mrs. Ellend, Church of Christ, Scientist."

  "I am glad to meet you," Brother Paul said. Separately, to the woman, he added: "That would be Christian Scientist?"

  The woman nodded. She seemed even older than the pastor, but also healthier, as befitted her calling. Christian Scientists commonly refused conventional medical attention, believing that all illness was illusory.

  "We two have been assigned to watch over your experiment, remaining neutral ourselves," Pastor Runford said. "This is the edge of Northole, where Animations most frequently occur."

  "If I may ask," Brother Paul said, "it seems to me that except for occasional storms, this effect remains fairly localized. Wouldn't it be simpler merely to demark the limits of Animation regions, and stay away from those areas?"

  "We would do so if we could," Pastor Runford replied. "Young lady, if I may use your map..."

  Amaranth stepped forward, smiling. The pastor used a stripped weed stem to indicate points on her map. "Our only route to the great forest to the north some leagues from here skirts Northmount. Here." He pointed to her right thigh, which was conveniently set forward. "And must veer quite near Northole, here." He gestured delicately to the obvious region, marked on her dress as a wide, shallow depression. "At times the Animation effect extends across the path, interfering with our hauling. If we do not bring down sufficient wood for the winter—"

  "I understand," Brother Paul said. So there was a practical, geographic reason for neutralizing this effect, as well as the colonists' need to unify about a single God.

  "We do not wish to interfere in any way with your belief or your investigation," Mrs. Ellend said. Her voice was oddly soft, yet carried well: the quiet authority of the grandmother figure. "Yet this matter is of some concern to us. Therefore it behooves us to cooperate with you, facilitating your exploration in an unobtrusive manner. While we are not, as a community, in complete agreement, common need has led us to this compromise." She glanced at the Swami. "Do you not agree, Kundalini?"

  The Swami grimaced, but nodded affirmatively.

  Pastor Runford's eyes traveled out over the misty hollow to the north. "Anticipating your progress, we have positioned observers within and without the Animation region. Mrs. Ellend and I are without; three colonists unknown to you are within. All are instructed by the Covenant to leave you to your own devices, except when you are in personal danger or otherwise in need of assistance. We ask you to remain near the fringe, where the effect is not strong, and to withdraw immediately if a storm should rise. Since we on the outside will be better able to detect such weather, we will signal you or send a courier at need. Are you amenable to this?"

  Brother Paul considered it. "If I understand correctly, the line between reality and imagination becomes blurred within the Animation area. Thus I may perceive a storm when none is present, or overlook a genuine one. I must confess to my amazement at the manifestations evoked by Deacon Brown last night; it is apparent that my own objectivity is not proof against this sort of thing. I therefore thank you for your concern. I believe it to be well-founded, and I consider the Swami's warning quite timely also. I shall remain at the fringe today, and will respond immediately to your signal or messenger."

  "We sincerely appreciate your attitude," Mrs. Ellend said with a smile that warmed him. What a gracious lady she was! "If you will also limit your initial exploration to an hour, this will serve as another safeguard."

  "One hour." Brother Paul set the counter on his watch. "I'd like to take one further precaution. Because we are concerned with objective reality here, I have been provided with electronic units to enable me to communicate with persons outside of the Animation area. I propose to leave a transceiver with you, so that we will be in touch." He drew a wand from his pocket. "These are activated by pressure; just squeeze between thumb and forefinger to broadcast, and release to receive."

  "I am familiar with the type," Pastor Runford said, taking the unit. "Back on Earth, we used these to coordinate our membership drives. An excellent precaution."

  Membership drives. Yes, the Jehovah's Witnesses were the most persistent of recruiters, carrying their message and literature to every household. They believed the end of the world was near, and the advent of mattermission had intensified that belief. Brother Paul was not about to argue the case. "Also," he continued, "I have been cautioned against attempting to Animate the Major Arcana, but I cannot do much more with Tarot symbols like swords and cups than I have already witnessed. I would like to Animate more complex images that are still circumscribed by existing standards. It occurs to me that the picture symbolism of the Minor Arcana in the so-called Waite pack of cards—"

  "You are a thoughtful man," Mrs. Ellend said. "Please accept my deck for this purpose. It is the standard Rider-Waite Tarot." She extended it.

  "Thank you." Brother Paul took the deck, faced north, and started walking. The four colonists stood where they were, watching silently.

  Actually he felt a bit guilty, for he had not informed them of the significance of the bracelet he wore. Yet it still seemed best merely to let this secret recorder record, and to ignore it meanwhile; it would represent the final evidence, back on Earth, of the truth of his discoveries. He could not play back its record here on Planet Tarot, so in that sense it really was irrelevant.

  He wondered where the other three observers were—the ones inside the Animation region. Were they hiding? He really would not mind having them present; an objective experi
ment should be valid regardless of the audience, and the Animation effect did not seem to be publicity-shy. Maybe they were waiting under that tree thirty meters distant...

  It was a magnificent tree, possibly seventy-five meters tall, and thus larger than most that remained on Earth. The leaves formed so dense a canopy that the shade beneath it was like night. Pretty Tarot Bubbles clustered in that nocturnal shelter, exceptionally large; some were up to ten centimeters in diameter. A haze of blossoms coated the outer fringe of the upper region of the tree, and their odor drifted sweetly down to him. Could this be the source of Animation, the fragrance of the trees? No; surely anything so obvious would have been discovered long ago by the colonists. Flowers were seasonal, so the effect would be limited to springtime, and from all he had heard, Animation occurred at all seasons and in all places, though most frequently during storms and in Northole. Also, if Animation derived from the Tree of Life (assuming that this tree was a representative of that species) and remained associated with the wood, the effect would be strongest in the houses of the village. Since it was weakest there, and did not develop as the wood was being burned in winter, the Tree was an unlikely source.

  The watchers were not by the tree. Brother Paul halted, physically and mentally, and pondered. "This seems like a good place to begin, nevertheless," he murmured. If this were an individual Tree of Life, allowed to stand because it was in the Animation area, it was a fitting setting for his experiment. If there were an entire forest of giants like this to the north, what a forest it would be! Perhaps he would visit that in due course. He hoped so.

  He opened the pack of cards and riffled through it, his fingers nimble. He passed over the Major Arcana and stopped at the Ace of Wands. On this variant it was a picture, not a simple wand. That was why he had chosen the Waite deck. "Well, why not?" he asked himself.

  He held the card before him, concentrating. Would it work, now that he was doing it alone? He wasn't sure he was far enough into the Animation area anyway, so a failure would not necessarily mean—

  He looked up. And gaped. There it was: a small cumulus cloud, all gray and fleecy, hanging in the sky, its curlicues extending vertically, about a kilometer above the ground. As he watched, a white hand pushed out to the left, glowing, and in this ghostly hand was clasped a tall wooden club with little green leaves sprouting from it. The whole thing was in grandiose scale, and somewhat fuzzy and poorly proportioned, but obviously modeled upon the card he held. It was not merely a vision in the sky; there was a knoll several kilometers beyond it, on the far side of a flowing stream, and what could be a castle on this knoll. Brother Paul was sure that neither stream nor castle had been there before he had begun concentrating on the card. This meant the entire visible landscape had been coerced to conform to the card. This success was beyond his expectations; he had been ready for failure, or at best a miniature scene.

  Even as he studied it, the scene wavered and faded. The castle was no longer clear, and the cloud—was only a cloud. He could no longer be sure he had seen what he thought he had seen.

  Brother Paul did not pause to ponder the implications. Instead he sorted out the four deuces, set aside the main deck, and shuffled the twos together until their order was random. Then he turned up the top one: the Two of Swords. The picture was of a young woman in a plain white robe, blindfolded, seated before an island-studded lake. In her hands she held two long swords. Her arms were crossed over her bosom, so that the swords pointed up and outward in a V shape. He had dealt this card reversed—upside-down— owing to the shuffling.

  Before he tried to Animate it, he walked another fifty paces north, where he hoped the effect would be stronger and more persistent. He did not want another wavering, distorted picture to sap his certainty. He concentrated on the card as it was, then looked up.

  Sure enough, the blindfolded lady was there, in every detail. Also the lake, the islands, and the crescent moon showing in the V. And the whole scene was inverted—like the card. The lake was overhead, the moon below; it was as if she were supported by the projecting swords.

  Reversal could be highly significant in Tarot. In divination—the polite term for fortune-telling—it meant the message of the card was diminished in impact or changed. Muted. Brother Paul knew that according to the author of this deck, Arthur Waite, the reversed Two of Swords was an omen of imposture, falsehood, or disloyalty. A bad sign?

  No, this was no divination! It was only an experiment, a testing of a specific effect. Besides, he did not believe in omens. For his purpose, this inversion was invaluable, because no such thing would have happened naturally. He had Animated it! Having verified this, he let it fade out.

  Brother Paul sorted and shuffled the four threes, and dealt one. Cups, reversed. He concentrated, and the three maidens appeared, dancing in a garden, with cups held high, pledging one another. Upside-down.

  If he were a believer in divination, he would be feeling rather doubtful now. The Trey of Cups signified the conclusion of any matter happily; reversed, it would mean—

  Frowning, he put away the card, and watched the vision fade. He set up the fours. He walked farther north as he mixed them. The Animation effect did seem to be getting stronger, despite the inversions; it could be the intensification of the field or whatever enabled the effect, or it could be increasing proficiency on his part as he gained experience. This time he would really test it, by producing something he could touch.

  He turned up the Four of Pentacles, Waite's name for Disks or Coins. Yet again, the card was reversed. And the image formed before him, without his consciously willing it. Inverted. It was a young man, seated, with a golden disk on his head, the disk inscribed with a five-pointed star, and another disk like it held before him, and two more under his feet. Over his feet, in this position.

  "Damn it!" Brother Paul swore, in most un-Vision-like ire. He was tired of inversion and its theoretic warnings of trouble that he didn't believe in. He strode forward, moving his arm as if to sweep the vision away. Half certain that he would encounter nothing, he fixed his gaze on the fair city in the distance, also upside-down, like a mirage.

  His outflung hand struck the front disk. It flew wide, reminding him momentarily of Tennyson's Lady of Shalott, whose spindle had flown wide and cracked the mirror from side to side. Was he, like that Lady, living in fantasy? The disk bounced and rolled along the ground. The man fell over, his feet coming down to touch the ground. He looked surprised. He opened his mouth as if to cry out—and faded away.

  Shaking, Brother Paul stood looking at the spot where the Four of Pentacles had been. The Animation had been solid! Just as the symbols yesterday in the mess hall had been solid. There was now no question: belief in an image caused it to become real, here. Faith was the key.

  Brother Paul put the deck away. It was evident that he could Animate what he saw on the cards, and these constructs seemed to pose no threat to him personally. But was there really any significance beyond this? If this were simply a work of art—reproducing pictures in three dimensions, converting pictures to sculptures—then there was surely no special god involved.

  "Brother Paul," a small voice murmured.

  If there were no god—at least none directly controlling the Animation effect—his task was simple. He could declare the problem solved and go home. But surely the colonists would not have been cowed by the Animation effect, if it were only an art form, any more than they were cowed by the volcanoes or the Tarot Bubbles. And what was the specific cause of the effect? His will controlled a particular image, but something else had to make it possible here, while it remained impossible elsewhere.

  "Brother Paul," the small voice repeated, "do you perceive me?"

  He knew he had to work this out very carefully. He believed in God, and this was a most powerful and pervasive belief, the realization of which had transformed his life eight years ago. Yet he had never presumed to define that God too specifically. It was essential that he keep his mind objective, and not create a
ny deity here, as it were, in his own image. That had been Reverend Siltz's caution, and a proper one. For this mission, as in life, his God was Truth: the most specific, objective, explicable truth he was capable of mustering.

  If God Himself should manifest via the medium of Animation, surely He would make Himself known in His own fashion, indisputably, as someone had already suggested. Brother Paul merely had to hold himself in readiness for that transcendent revelation, that supreme intuition.

  "Lord," he murmured, "let me not make a fool of myself, in my quest for Thee." But he had to reprove himself: it was a selfish prayer. If it were necessary to make a fool of himself to discover God, then it would be well worth it. In fact, was this not the nature of the Fool of Tarot?

  His hour was passing; if he were to progress beyond yesterday's point, he had to do it soon. He brought out the deck again and riffled through it, seeking inspiration. The Minor Arcana were not sufficient; should he Animate a Court Card? Perhaps a King or a Queen?

  A figure showed. Female, coming toward him. But he hadn't attempted another Animation! Unless—

  That was it. He was going through the Suit of Swords, and there was the Eight: a woman bound and hoodwinked among a forest of standing swords. It meant bad news, crisis, interference. He had unconsciously Animated it. He would have to watch that; he was in the depths of the Animation region now, and with practice was developing such ready facility that any card he glimpsed could become physical, even without his conscious intent.

  Well, time for the big one. He would see if he could make the Tarot deck itself respond to his queries. Brother Paul brought out the deck again, sorted through the Major Arcana, and selected the Hierophant. This was Key Five of this deck, the great educator and religious figure known in other decks as the High Priest or the Pope, counterpart to the High Priestess. It all depended on the religion and purpose of the person who conceived the particular variant. The title of the card hardly mattered anyway; some decks used no titles. The pictures carried the symbolism. Surely this august figure of Key Five would know the meaning of Animation, if there were a meaning to be known.