Dalliance watched Charity leave, the weight of the reading settling in the silence she left behind. Dalliance could see the Eye, the biggest of the craters on the surface far below, ascendant at this time of day, reflected in his lemonade, its snow-capped peaks blindingly white in the full sun, a stark contrast to the dimness of the tabletop in the schoolhouse’s shade, and the cards spread upon it.
"Okay," he said after a moment. "My turn."
Earnest gathered the cards and began to shuffle, splitting them into two piles. A small, distant smile played on his lips. He let a single card dance up and down impudently between his fingers.
"I'm thinking . . . a long and happy life," the [Dreamer] said, his tone full of theatrical prophecy. "Seven children, by two mothers. All girls. And you'll die in an honor duel with their suitors."
"Give me that," demanded Dalliance, snatching the decks and shuffling them himself with a clumsy, agitated motion.
"And you have mixed the Major and Minor," sighed Earnest, sounding disappointed, like a father who had just watched his kid take a sip out of the inkwell. "Give them here."
Dalliance did so, recognizing the change in tone. His friend's playful mood had vanished, replaced by the quiet seriousness of his craft. Earnest began to lay the cards down, one by one.
"No surprise," he said lightly, but his eyes were focused, intense. "Three major, four minor."
He placed the final card and tapped the layout with his finger.
"Your Past," he began, "is The Beveled Dice, bridged by the Two of Quarrels and the Five of Glimmers."
"Your Present is The Ageless."
The figure, with its pale features, half-circle headdress, and golden robes, was a picture-perfect representation of a Magister. Hidden knowledge and secrecy.
"And your Future," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "is The Candle, with two paths: the Six of Embers and the Four of Patterns."
Dalliance stared at the seven cards spread before him.
It was a lot to take in.
Earnest leaned forward, his voice low and serious, all traces of the jester gone. "So, you come from a two-faced family full of conflict, but you're unique in some way."
He tapped THE AGELESS.
"And now, you have a secret."
His finger then moved to trace the two branching paths leading from the final card.
"And moving forward, you'll either try to fix things as you find them . . . and it will all go up in flames."
He pointed to the path that ended in ashes. Then, his finger slid to the other path.
"Or . . . you cut out the rot and find renewal."
"You said things much more nicely for Charity." He realized he was whining, and hated it.
Earnest started gathering the cards, the serious [Seer] vanishing, replaced by the familiar, infuriating smirk of a budding scoundrel. He didn't deny it.
"Charity's much nicer to me," he quipped.
The pair was thoughtful on the way home from class that day.
Dalliance waved a hand in front of his face at eye level as they walked back along the path, breaking spiderwebs as he went. Big, fat orb weavers scuttled down to the trees they used for anchor points. Earnest chuckled at his friend's obsessive thoroughness, though Dalliance noticed he still walked a few steps behind.
"So, now what?" asked Dalliance.
"I don't see that it changes very much," said Earnest. "I already knew that I might have to be a [Seer] at some point. That's all but confirmed it. I'm not going to be able to sit there and play [Philosopher] when I know, in the back of my mind, it's this easy to learn things. Get the important answers. So that's it. I'm going to be a [Seer]."
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He sounded like he had mixed feelings about it, but grinned performatively anyway. His tight shoes—possibly a little too small, or maybe he just had small feet—kicked up clouds of dust as he did an impromptu heel-kick to show his enthusiasm for his future role.
"It's not like it's the end of the world," he told Dalliance.
The crickets began to sing as they approached their respective farms.
"Exams are coming up," Earnest said thoughtfully. "If you want me to stop by later . . . ?"
"I'll tell them you're coming," Dalliance said. Earnest was a frequent enough visitor that it was no longer ‘can he come’ and more ‘just so you know, he’s coming’. One of the more decent things his Da had done, that—the big man believed strongly in hospitality.
For the next several hours, Dalliance was gainfully occupied washing and drying the innumerable jars that would be employed in the pickling and preservation of the minor crops from the vegetable garden. Consequently, he found himself spending more time than usual in the presence of his mother. It was usually a pleasant prospect compared to time in the fields, but today he was writhing internally. Phrases like ‘ravish you’ kept playing through his mind. Besides, it hadn't been that long since the meatball, and while they hadn't spoken since, and he doubted she was going to broach the topic of what he could have seen, there was an uncomfortable distance that hadn't been there before. Meatballs didn’t throw themselves, after all, and there were only so many possibilities.
She washed, and he dried. Then she chopped, he washed, and Whimsy manned the boiling pot, fitting all the lids, sealing some tight, and putting them away in the bottom cabinet. And though this was an easier chore than working in the fields, the awkward silence—and the fact that he knew how deeply it was warranted, along with the fact that Whimsy was a terrible actress, clearly mad at her mother—was not in the least relaxing.
So much so, that he found himself sincerely looking forward to his math homework, a state of affairs with which he was not accustomed.
"Of course, your friend can come over," his mother told him. She even gave him a fresh jar of beans that he regarded mistrustfully but, upon her firm expectation, did eventually accept. For Earnest’s folks, she said. It was neighborly to share.
His chores done, a quick stop by his outhouse, and it was time to study. Except Earnest was nowhere to be seen.
But he’d barely cracked his books before being distracted.
“Dalliance?” said the lilting voice of Topaz, the fae herself, fluttering down. "Have you thought about our . . . our talk?"
He had, in fact, a little, before falling asleep at night. But not after that. "A little," he said, and some of the shame returned. “Sorry, I’ve been busy. I meant to.”
"It's not my job to tell you how to live your life," she said. "In the end, I'm just your friend."
He arranged the implements for schoolwork on his table while he thought about that statement. Trimmed the nibs of his pens with his hunting knife. Set out the inkwell and papers.
She stepped forward, onto his math sheet, subtly interrupting him, asking for commentary.
"I thought you were taking a more maternal role," he said. It wasn’t entirely untrue.
She chimed in irritation and sat down next to his inkwell. "Your lifespan is a flickering candle next to the weight of years of mine. So is your father's, and his father's. I can no more call them my peer than you can. It may not have occurred to you, but you are as clever in your own way as Cadence, through the boon of the System. From the span of thousands of years, forty is nothing, for all that he's seen some hardship that you haven't. Though he’s hardened and tempered in his own way, through his treatment of you, to a lesser degree, the same can be said of you. You . . . are worth talking to, if anyone is.”
He dipped his pen in the well, and she fluttered over to his knife, sitting on it as if it were a bench. “I may be your mentor, but in the end, the goal of mentorship isn't stasis. It is to uplift someone to equal friendship, to the extent that's possible. And you’re making your own choices, now. So."
He hadn't thought of it that way.
"Also, I was wondering," she said, "if you'd changed your mind, what with your father."
"I'm going to be a wizard," he said firmly.
"Then you will be a fine [Wizard]," the fairy said. She sounded relieved.
“What were my other options, anyway?”
“[Farmer] would have saved you quite a bit of pain. I wouldn’t have blamed you—”
"—That’s a fairy!" said Earnest from the door. Dalliance hadn’t heard it open. Had he remembered to close it?
Topaz blurred with speed as she flew away, but the damage had been done.
His friend stared at him.
"A ne'er-do-well," Earnest said, "Who traffics with fairies and breaks into armories. Who would have believed it was little, innocent Dalliance Rather?"
Dalliance had been holding his breath, but the mockery restored his confidence. "Shut up," he told his best friend. "She’s just a pixie. Just . . . shut up. You almost gave me a heart attack."
"I figured you'd rather know that I knew," Earnest told him. That was true. He took a seat.
"So, I suppose they're not all dark gods, are they?"
"She isn't a high Fae," Dalliance said. "Pixies are just servitors. She earned her freedom through loyal service, got her Name—”
“—and now what? Sits around drinking dewdrops?"
"Actually, it’s mostly gossiping."
The situation was too tense and too fresh for Earnest to crack a genuine smile, but he made the attempt. "Well, that's fine then."
They tried to do their math. Needless to say, this was slow going.
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