Vision of Tarot Read online

  "We tried, but they won't glow when prisoned," she said. "They tend to stay away from the village, too. This is an unusually fine display; some nights they don't show at all."

  "Smart bugs," Brother Paul said. Obviously if the novas performed when tamed, there would soon be no wild ones left.

  "You know," Amaranth said somewhat diffidently, "I was caught in the—the play accidentally. I was only coming to warn you of the approach of the storm when you didn't answer the intercom. Then—"

  "I understand. You were not an assigned Watcher. I'm sorry you got trapped."

  "That's what I wanted to say, now that I've got you alone. I'm not sorry it happened. I got to show off my own Tarot deck in spite of the Covenant, and my fortunetelling skills—"

  "I believe you have omitted some material between those two," Brother Paul said dryly. "I must apologize for—"

  "No, don't apologize! I wasn't fooling when I said there's something about you, aura or whatever. Was it during the Animation that I said that? Anyway, I meant it. I have to study you to learn how you tamed the Breaker, but that's become more of an excuse than—well, you're quite a guy, in and out of Animation."

  "I should hate to think that all those scenes were under my control," Brother Paul said. "Some were all right—"

  "Like Sister Beth," she agreed. "I am not of your religion, but after that I wonder whether—"

  "But others—well, that one in the castle." He was forcing himself to clarify the worst. "Did I rape you?" As though it were a casual matter!

  "You never touched me," she assured him. "More's the pity. You can't rape a willing woman."

  Never touched her... That was worse yet. "Still, if it was my will that dictated your participation—"

  "I improvised some. It was my role to tempt you, and I tried, I really tried, but Therion kept getting in the way. I like to dress and undress. I like men—well, not men like that stuffed shirt Lee or the fake Swami, but men with guts and drives and—"

  "Fake Swami?"

  "He's not Indian. I mean not Indian Indian. He's American Indian. So all this talk about Kundalini—"

  "His origin doesn't matter," Brother Paul said, conscious again of his own mixed ancestry. "If he sincerely believes in his religion—and I'm sure he does—"

  "He's still a fake," she said.

  "He's not a fake! He showed me the force he has—"

  "How did we get on this subject?" she inquired, turning to him. "Let's kiss, and see where we can go from there."

  Brother Paul was taken aback. Freed from the limits of her Animation roles, she was fully as forward. "Are you always this direct?"

  "Well, yes. Haven't you noticed the way I dress? I've got the physical assets, and I want it known before I get old and saggy and lose my chance in life. But I don't turn on to many men like this. I'll admit there aren't many eligible men in this village, maybe not on this planet. Most are like that old bore Siltz, dull and married and guarding his son's virginity like an angry crocodile." Suddenly it was clear to Brother Paul what her real irritation with Siltz was: his withholding of an eligible young male from the matrimonial market. There were evidently a number of such families here so that young men and women could not find each other. "The religious factor complicates it so terribly—but even so, you're special. There's something about you—maybe it is the aura the Swami talks about. The way you handled the Breaker! I mean to seduce you, if it's not against your religion, and maybe you'll like it well enough to want more. Once I have you hooked I'll see about landing you permanently. Is trial sex against your religion? I can be more subtle if it is absolutely necessary."

  "Well, the Holy Order of Vision does not specifically prohibit—it's regarded as part of our private lives. But there is a certain expectation—well, as Sister Beth said—"

  Amaranth sighed. "She was a nice girl. Not like me. Was there really such a woman in your past?"

  "There really was," Brother Paul agreed. "She was not as pretty as you, but the guilt of her death changed my life. I wish that change had been possible without such a sacrifice—but I always come back to the fact that I can not pretend to comprehend the will of God."

  "That's what the Jehovah's Witnesses say when someone chides them about the end of the world not arriving on schedule. 'Don't second-guess Jehovah!' I think it's a copout. My religion is I.A.O., and no priestess of Abraxas is afraid of serpents, literal or figurative, or the opinion of a sexist God. So if you ever change your mind, I do give samples."

  There was something at once horrifying and refreshing about her candor. It helped to know exactly where one stood. "Maybe Abraxas will turn out to be the God of Tarot," Brother Paul said. This conversation made him nervous, because Amaranth was simply too attractive, in Animation and in life. More trying was that she had seen him in his elemental being, as a lust-laden male, as a fringe-legal gambler, as a drug addict. She had smelled the shit. She had seen the mask stripped from what he once had been, now hidden behind the facade of a gentle religion—and she did not condemn him. Was there another woman in the human sphere who, perceiving his psychic nakedness, the filth of his essence, would not recoil? He had no present intention of indulging her offer—yet he obviously had not felt that way in Animation! Which was his true mind?

  There was a scream—an extraordinary, unearthly, nape-prickling effort reverberating around the landscape. Some wild animal—or worse.

  "Bigfoot!" Amaranth exclaimed. Then, in dawning horror: "The child!"

  Both of them broke into a run toward the sound. The terrain was rougher here, as if to balk them now that they were in more of a hurry. There was a thick undergrowth on the slope—tall weeds, small trees, dense bushes, and root-like projections whose affinities he did not know. Nettles caught at his trousers and made tiny gouges in his skin. He dodged to avoid a small glowing cloud at knee height, then discovered it was only the flowering portion of a forest weed. One foot dropped into a hollow, sending him stumbling headlong—until he fetched up against a horizontal branch he had not seen in the dark.

  "No—around this way," Amaranth gasped. "I know this area—some. I've come here with the Breaker, when the Animation retreated. I'm healthy—but I can't run like you."

  Naturally not. Few men could run like him, and no women he knew of. This was a problem. She knew the land, but could not keep up. He had power to spare, but was wrecking himself in this unfamiliar dark. They both had to slow down.

  There was another scream, worse than the first. "Great God Abraxas!" Amaranth cried. "Save the child—"

  Brother Paul lurched ahead, electrified by alarm—and caromed off a dead tree. Bark tore away in his face, the sawdust momentarily blinding him, making his eyes smart fiercely. He couldn't accelerate; he'd never get there.

  "Go up that gully," Amaranth gasped, creditably close behind. She was a good runner—for a woman. "But watch for a rock at the ridge—"

  Brother Paul stepped close to her, reached his left arm about her waist, and hauled her up on his hip. He plunged on up the slope, carrying her. "There's the rock!" she said. He saw nothing, but climbed out of the gully. "Now the ridge—it drops a yard—we'll have to jump—"

  He slowed, confused. "Oh—a meter." He found the ridge, let her down, and they both jumped into the black shadow. It could have been a bottomless crevasse, like those on the volcano, as far as his sight was able to tell; without her assurance he would not have dared risk it. But his feet struck firm ground.

  "Short steep slope, then a level place," she said. "Then another hill."

  At the foot of the ridge he put his arm about her again, for she was still panting. "I can go some... but God, you've got power!" she cried. "It's not all physical... Just take some weight off my legs—here." She adjusted his arm to fit higher about her torso, under the arms. When he took her weight, she drew close to his side, close and very soft. But he had to keep moving.

  They crested the next hill—to confront a vision. On the plateau ahead the nova-bugs scintillated in
their myriads, their brief explosions like an intermittent galaxy. To the left was a faerie city, with tall turrets and flying buttresses and minarets glowing inherently: obviously an Animation conjured by some one. That meant the Animation effect was returning, sweeping in from whatever source it had, like malaria through the body. Soon it would engulf them. To the right, the direction of safety from Animation, stood a monster.

  The creature was about three meters tall, burly and hairy. It had the claws of a bear and the gross snout of a boar. Its feet were human, but disproportionately large.

  "Where is the child?" Brother Paul asked.

  "Somewhere else," Amaranth said, turning to look. That brought her left breast under his hand. She was still breathing hard. "Those were Bigfoot's screams, not hers; I was afraid it was—"

  Now a reaction that had been held in abeyance finally registered. "Bigfoot! You mean there really is a Bigfoot, not just noise and footprints? A tangible, visible—?" He dropped his arm.

  "There," she said. "It hangs out near Animations."

  Meanwhile the curtain of Animation was sweeping forward. The faerie city was beautiful, but horrifying in its implication as it expanded toward them. They could enter it merely by standing still—but how would they exit from it?

  "I think the child is either safe—or beyond our help," Brother Paul said. "The former, I hope. I don't see any blood on Bigfoot's paws. We'd better save ourselves—and hope the others are doing likewise. Can you run on the level well enough?"

  "I'd better!"

  They started across the plateau. But Bigfoot spied them. With another horrendous scream it charged to intercept them. In moments it had placed itself in their path, menacingly. The nova-bugs were concentrated in its vicinity, illuminating it almost steadily.

  "I'll try to distract it," Brother Paul said. "You move on by."

  "But it'll kill you! Bigfoot's terrible!"

  "If you don't move, the Animation will catch you," Brother Paul snapped, advancing on the monster. He was not at all sure he could handle it, but he had to try. The thing was not going to let them pass unchallenged, and there was no room to escape without getting caught by the Animation.

  Amaranth looked after him with dismay. Then she put two fingers into her mouth and emitted a piercing whistle.

  Bigfoot reacted instantly. It charged her. Brother Paul launched himself between them, catching the side of the monster with his shoulder. It was like ramming a boulder. Bigfoot swung about, swiping at him with a paw, and Brother Paul was hurled aside. This thing was agile as well as massive!

  As he scrambled to his feet, shaken but unhurt, Brother Paul saw the Animation curtain extending visibly toward them, seeming to accelerate. The faerie city was sprouting suburbs, and a broad, tree-lined avenue was unrolling head-on. Time was disappearing fast. Yet Bigfoot still cut Amaranth off. If only she hadn't attracted its attention by that foolish whistle!

  Now the nova-bugs clustered about a new subject. Apparently they were attracted to anything that moved. Brother Paul saw with dismay that it was the creature he had first encountered on this planet: the Breaker. Worse yet!

  The Breaker bounded rapidly toward them, its tail propelling it like a fifth leg. But it had not come to renew the fray with Brother Paul. It launched itself straight at Bigfoot. But Bigfoot was wary of the Breaker, circling about, never staying still for the attack. Evidently these two were natural enemies, but the Breaker seemed to have the advantage.

  Then, abruptly, Bigfoot whirled and charged directly into the Animation city, so near. It ran right up the avenue, as though entering a picture. The Breaker did not pursue. Every creature of this planet knew better than to enter Animation voluntarily! Except Bigfoot.

  The Breaker now oriented on Brother Paul. Unfinished business? He braced to meet it. He was not about to follow Bigfoot into Animation! Now that he knew the Breaker's mode of attack, he should be able to foil it.

  But there was no need. Amaranth ran across and set her hand on the Breaker's back, and the creature was passive. "This is my Breaker," she explained. "I whistled for him to come help us. I wasn't sure he'd hear, or that he'd come, or what he might do—but I couldn't let you face the monster alone."

  She had tamed the predator, all right! "Your strength is greater than mine," Brother Paul said. Then, seeing the city almost upon them: "Now let's run!"

  They ran, the Breaker bounding beside Amaranth. The Animation curtain was moving more slowly; soon they left it behind. Now, perversely, Brother Paul grew more curious about what he might have found had he entered that city: an Arabian Nights' fantasy? And he realized that Amaranth and the Breaker had, coincidentally (or was there such a thing as coincidence, when Animation was involved?), just enacted another Tarot card: the one variously termed Strength, Fortitude, Discipline, or Lust, wherein a fair young lady pacified a powerful lion. Was there more than casual meaning in these occurrences?

  Lee and Therion had made it out. There was no sign of either the Swami or the child. "Maybe they found another route?" Mrs. Ellend suggested hopefully.

  "Pray that it be so," Pastor Runford agreed.

  One thing was sure: Brother Paul would never again underrate the potentials of Animation! This was no laboratory curiosity; it was a ravening force.

  The party made its way to the village, and Brother Paul returned to Reverend Siltz's home. "There will be a meeting tomorrow," Pastor Runford said as they separated. "There you will make your report. Please do not discuss the matter with others prior to that occasion."

  Brother Paul would have been happy never to discuss it with anyone ever. In fact, he would have felt considerably more at ease had he never entered Animation.

  Reverend Siltz was at home alone, eating a cold supper. "I hoped you would return safely, and feared you would not," he said. "You must be hungry."

  "Yes. I haven't eaten in two days."

  Siltz glanced at him, surprised. "When the occasion is proper, I hope to learn of your experience. I understand time can be strange, in Animation."

  "The rest of the planet can be strange, too. We encountered Bigfoot—and were saved by the Breaker. I believe I can tell you about that much, since it happened outside of Animation, if you are interested."

  Siltz was interested. He was fairly affable. "We shall have to extend our guarding radius. Normally the Breaker will not approach the Animation area, so it is safe to travel there alone, provided one does not actually enter Animation. We did not realize we were subjecting the Watchers to this threat."

  "The Breaker did not come on his own. Amaranth whistled for him—and he came to help her. Your colony's decision to try to tame the Breaker instead of eliminating him seems to be paying dividends already."

  "So it would seem. She has made far more progress than we realized. Perhaps we shall tame this planet yet!" Siltz turned up the wood-oil lamp and gave Brother Paul a chunk of wooden bread. "I regret there is no better food since the communal kitchen is closed at this hour. But this is nutritious."

  "You know," Brother Paul observed, his gaze passing from the lamp to the unlit wood stove, "with woodheat so critical in winter, I'm surprised you do not use it more efficiently."

  Siltz stiffened slightly. "We use it as efficiently as we know. The Tree of Life is exactly that to us: life. Without it we die. What magnitude of improvement did you have in mind?"

  "About four hundred per cent," Brother Paul said.

  Siltz scowled. "I am in a good mood tonight, but I do not appreciate this humor. We utilize the most efficient stoves available from Earth, and we use the wood, sparingly. Even so, we fear the winter. Each year some villagers miscalculate, or are unfortunate, and we discover them frozen when the snow subsides. To improve on our efficiency five-fold—this is an impossible dream."

  "I'm serious," Brother Paul said. It was good to get into this thoroughly mundane subject after the horrors of Animation! "Maybe my recent experience shook loose a memory. You should be able to quintuple your effective heating, or at leas
t extend your wood as much longer as you need. It is a matter of philosophy."

  "Philosophy! I am a religious man. Brother, but the burning of wood is very much a material thing, however it may warm the spirit. Such an increase would transform life on this entire planet. If you are not joking: what philosophy can make wood produce more calories per liter?"

  "Oh, the wood may burn less efficiently. I was speaking of its usefulness to you, in extending your winter's survival. You are presently wasting most of your heat."

  "Wasting it! No one wastes the wood of the Tree of Life!"

  "Let me explain. In the Orient, on Earth, there are regions of extreme climate. Very hot in summer, savage in winter. The Asiatic people developed racial characteristics favoring these conditions: fatty tissue buffering face and body, a smaller nose, yellowed skin, and specially protected eyes. But still the winter was harsh, especially when over-population denuded the resources of the land. Wood and other fuel for heating became scarce, so they learned to use it efficiently. They realized that it was pointless to heat space when it was only the human body that required it. So—"

  "One must heat the space of the house in order to heat the body," Siltz said. "We can not simply inject wood calories into our veins!"

  "So they designed low, flat stoves, set into the floor, that consumed the fuel slowly, emitting only a little heat at a time," Brother Paul continued. "The family members would lie against the surface of that stove all night, absorbing the heat directly, with very little waste. The room temperature might be below freezing, but the people were warm. And so they avoided the inevitable heat loss incurred, by warming a full house, and extended their fuel supply—"

  "I begin to comprehend!" Siltz exclaimed. "Heat the body, not the house! Like those electric socks, when I was a lad on Earth. By day we exercise here; we do not need the stove, even in winter. It is at night, when we are still, that we freeze. But no one would freeze on an operating stove, getting slowly cooked by it! It would require major reconstruction of our stoves, but it would extend our most valuable asset and save lives. And in the summer, with less wood to haul, we could grow more crops, make more things." He looked at Brother Paul, nodding. "I did not approve your mission here, Brother; but you may have done a remarkable service for our planet this night."