Read Online The Master of Misrule by Laura Powell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Powell
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you should have paid more attention.” The old man scowled. “To play even one of those scratchcards is to disturb the natural balance of luck in the world. With every head or tail that is uncovered, the more power Misrule gains. When he is ready, he will launch his Lottery, and deal the first round of fates from his wheel.
“You know the cards in the triumph deck, and how one card’s lot has a thousand variations. At first, perhaps, the changes in fortune may be simple, and small. Some players might uncover a secret. Others might go on a journey or meet a stranger. Many will find new hope. Still more, sudden loss. As you saw, a number of cards will be blank. But whoever is dealt a new fate shall not escape it.
“For as Misrule’s Lottery increases its grip, the nature of the cards will change. They will take on the Game’s powers to summon angels and demons, resurrect the dead, create new gods. They shall burn towers and drown cities. Men will walk through their own pasts and see their most monstrous dreams made flesh.
“Human life is already erratic and perilous, threatened by crisis on every side. How many rounds of the Lottery will be played, how many different destinies will each man endure, before your civilization becomes as broken as my temple and as anarchic as the Arcanum? It will not be long, I think, before ruin takes hold.”
There was a shaky silence.
Flora raised her bowed head. “Very well,” she said quietly. “Tell us what we have to do.”
The High Priest seemed to have aged since they had entered the ballroom, for his face was more heavily lined, with an unhealthy green tint. “Tomorrow I will deal you a new round of cards,” he said, “and we will see what hope is left in the Arcanum. But tonight … tonight my strength is done. I want you gone from my temple.”
“Can’t we first—”
His eyes flashed. “What, you think it is an easy thing, to conjure visions in the scrying-glass? I summoned ghosts and demons for you, the image of Misrule himself! It was too much for the mirrors and nearly too much for me. No, I want you gone. Leave me, leave this place.”
“But we’ll come back tomorrow,” Toby insisted. “Us four will come back, OK, and you’ll show us what to do?”
“Regrettably, there is no other choice,” the Priest replied sourly as he picked up his broom.
U SUALLY, WHEN THE CHANCERS left Temple House or a move within the Arcanum, they found that little time had passed on the other side of the threshold. But although it seemed like they couldn’t have been in the house for more than an hour, they stepped out to discover that night was drawing in.
The four of them stood on the pavement in a disconsolate huddle.
“The King of Swords warned me that the Hanged Man’s card used to be called the Traitor,” Cat said at last. “At the time, I just thought he was trying to pull a fast one on me. D’you think we can believe what we saw of Misrule? Can we trust the Priest?”
Flora roused herself a little. “Unfortunately, it seems to fit with what we already know, and I don’t just mean thescratchcards. When I was … was in Grace’s move, they—the Spinners, that is—said we’d done a great wrong. They accused me of making the Game ‘crooked.’ ”
“Exactly,” said Toby solemnly. “And Mia herself showed me what a mess the Arcanum was in.”
“It’s not the Arcanum’s welfare we have to worry about,” Blaine said grimly. He coughed, and the noise echoed hollowly round the square.
Flora winced. “God, you sound awful.”
“Sounds worse than it is. I think it’s the damp.”
“You’re still staying in that basement place, aren’t you?” Cat asked.
“The squat, you mean,” Toby muttered.
Blaine shrugged.
“Well, no wonder you’re ill,” said Flora. She looked better than she had earlier: the dull, fixed look had gone from her eyes. Flora was beginning to accept that, perhaps, the disaster of the Eight of Swords had not been
“You know the cards in the triumph deck, and how one card’s lot has a thousand variations. At first, perhaps, the changes in fortune may be simple, and small. Some players might uncover a secret. Others might go on a journey or meet a stranger. Many will find new hope. Still more, sudden loss. As you saw, a number of cards will be blank. But whoever is dealt a new fate shall not escape it.
“For as Misrule’s Lottery increases its grip, the nature of the cards will change. They will take on the Game’s powers to summon angels and demons, resurrect the dead, create new gods. They shall burn towers and drown cities. Men will walk through their own pasts and see their most monstrous dreams made flesh.
“Human life is already erratic and perilous, threatened by crisis on every side. How many rounds of the Lottery will be played, how many different destinies will each man endure, before your civilization becomes as broken as my temple and as anarchic as the Arcanum? It will not be long, I think, before ruin takes hold.”
There was a shaky silence.
Flora raised her bowed head. “Very well,” she said quietly. “Tell us what we have to do.”
The High Priest seemed to have aged since they had entered the ballroom, for his face was more heavily lined, with an unhealthy green tint. “Tomorrow I will deal you a new round of cards,” he said, “and we will see what hope is left in the Arcanum. But tonight … tonight my strength is done. I want you gone from my temple.”
“Can’t we first—”
His eyes flashed. “What, you think it is an easy thing, to conjure visions in the scrying-glass? I summoned ghosts and demons for you, the image of Misrule himself! It was too much for the mirrors and nearly too much for me. No, I want you gone. Leave me, leave this place.”
“But we’ll come back tomorrow,” Toby insisted. “Us four will come back, OK, and you’ll show us what to do?”
“Regrettably, there is no other choice,” the Priest replied sourly as he picked up his broom.
U SUALLY, WHEN THE CHANCERS left Temple House or a move within the Arcanum, they found that little time had passed on the other side of the threshold. But although it seemed like they couldn’t have been in the house for more than an hour, they stepped out to discover that night was drawing in.
The four of them stood on the pavement in a disconsolate huddle.
“The King of Swords warned me that the Hanged Man’s card used to be called the Traitor,” Cat said at last. “At the time, I just thought he was trying to pull a fast one on me. D’you think we can believe what we saw of Misrule? Can we trust the Priest?”
Flora roused herself a little. “Unfortunately, it seems to fit with what we already know, and I don’t just mean thescratchcards. When I was … was in Grace’s move, they—the Spinners, that is—said we’d done a great wrong. They accused me of making the Game ‘crooked.’ ”
“Exactly,” said Toby solemnly. “And Mia herself showed me what a mess the Arcanum was in.”
“It’s not the Arcanum’s welfare we have to worry about,” Blaine said grimly. He coughed, and the noise echoed hollowly round the square.
Flora winced. “God, you sound awful.”
“Sounds worse than it is. I think it’s the damp.”
“You’re still staying in that basement place, aren’t you?” Cat asked.
“The squat, you mean,” Toby muttered.
Blaine shrugged.
“Well, no wonder you’re ill,” said Flora. She looked better than she had earlier: the dull, fixed look had gone from her eyes. Flora was beginning to accept that, perhaps, the disaster of the Eight of Swords had not been
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