to be nigh the end.”
“Cardinal premier,” said Lisane, and she turned up a card and laid it directly before her, just outside the array; the card pointed toward the center. Even so, she sucked in air between clenched teeth, saying, “Devil; upright.”
“Cardinal deux,” she then said, and this time she laid the card directly before Camille and just outside the array, and at sight of the card, Camille blenched. “Death; reversed,” said Lisane.
“Oh, Lisane, these can’t be good, especially Death.”
Lisane shook her head. “Certainly the Devil upright is a terrible omen, for it means ravage, violence, vehemence. Yet at the same time it also means a dweller without, someone not allowed in.” Lisane fell into long contemplation, and Camille thought she would go mad in the silence. But at last Lisane reached out with her left hand and touched the Magician. “Perhaps this one.”
“But what about Death?” asked Camille. “Isn’t it even worse?”
Lisane shook her head. “No, Camille. Death reversed can mean death just escaped, partial change, or transformation. Even so, it can also suggest great destruction as well, and coupled with the Devil upright”-Lisane took a deep breath-“I deem it signals a disaster you cannot avoid.”
Tears welled in Camille’s eyes. “Should I forgo my search, then?”
Slowly Lisane shook her head. “I think not, Camille, for the cards only say what might be, not what is certain to come. Were it my quest, I would go on”-with her right hand she touched the Lovers-“for true love can overcome much.”
Camille nodded, and then Lisane said, “Now for the last two cards.”
Calling out “Cardinal trois” and “Cardinal quatre,” Lisane dealt two more cards and placed one to the right and the other to the left, just outside the wheel, and at the sight of these, both she and Camille gasped, startled, for they were the Moon and the Sun, both upright. Lisane touched the Moon on the right-“Somewhere between concealed enemies and danger”-and then she touched the Sun on the left-“and a promise of bliss”-she looked at Camille-“somewhere between the hidden and the revealed does your true heart lie.”
A fortnight altogether it took Camille to recover well enough to travel onward. “I shall leave on the morrow,” she said to Lisane that eve.
“I shall greatly miss you,” replied Lisane.
“And I you,” said Camille, reaching out to squeeze Lisane’s hand.
They sat in silence before the great willow, twilight drawing down on the land.
“Would that I had been of more help,” said Lisane after a while.
“Oh, Lisane, you nursed me back to health; without you I would have died.”
“Mayhap,” said Lisane. “But mayhap without my test in the mire you would not have fallen ill.”
Camille shrugged. “That we’ll never know. Yet there is your reading: just knowing that there is someone out there who can truly aid me has lifted my heart, for now I do have hope.”
“Let us pray that hope is enough,” said Lisane.
Once more silence fell between them, but then Lisane said, “Thale has agreed to bear you to a town, where you can continue your quest.”
“But I know not how to ride aught,” said Camille, “much less a Unicorn.”
“Did you not ride the Bear? And did you not ride Thale from the wrath of the Spriggans unto here?”
“Yes, but-”
Lisane smiled. “Fear not, Camille, for a Unicorn will not let fall one who is pure of heart. You do not need to know how to ride, for Thale will bear you securely.”
They sat until lavender twilight turned to star-laden cobalt night, and then went inside. But ere she crawled into bed, Camille took up Lady Sorciere’s stave and by candlelight counted the days:
Two hundred eighty-seven blossoms remain; seventy-nine dints where blossoms once were. A fortnight lost to illness. Oh, Alain, will I find you ere all the blossoms are gone?
In the silvery light of the onset of dawn, Camille and Lisane hugged and kissed one another, tears standing in the eyes of each. Then Camille mounted up, Thale whinnying and tossing his head as if anxious to be away. Lisanne stepped forward and handed up Camille’s goods, and then she lifted up chirping Scruff, who, until he was safely perched in his customary spot on Camille’s shoulder, seemed to think he was being left behind. And when all was settled in place, “Seek the Minstrel, Camille, whoever he or she might be,” said Lisane, and then she stepped back.
“I shall,” replied Camille, and with a final au revoir, she rode away on the back of a Unicorn, leaving the vast willow behind, it with its dwelling within.
Lisane watched until they were gone from sight, then she turned and went inside to once again lay out the cards to see if aught had changed. She found on the table awaiting her What’s this? Gifts from Camille? Fourteen silver pennies: one for each day of her stay. But what need have I for coin?… Ah, but this white-pearl ring, a symbol of purity…
Lisane took up the ring and slipped it onto a finger, where it softly shone in the oncoming light of the newly arriving morn.
Two days later in the waning afternoon, Thale halted just within the edge of the forest. Down a long slope beyond, and across a narrow bridge above a swift river, stood a modest town of five hundred dwellings or so.
Quietly, Thale whickered and Camille dismounted. She embraced the Unicorn about the neck and said, “Merci, mon ami, not only for bearing Scruff and me here, but also for showing me that I am not sullied for having loved and been loved.”
Camille stroked Thale’s muzzle one last time, and he blew softly into her hand, then he looked up at Scruff and snorted.
“ Chp! ” protested the sparrow, but Camille laughed.
Tossing his head, again Thale whickered, his pearlescent, spiral-wound horn agleam in the slanting rays of the sun.
Camille sighed and turned and started down the long slope. When she looked back the Unicorn was gone, and on down toward the town she went to whatever lay within.
24
As Camille crossed the narrow footbridge over the river, sounding above the shush of swift-running water she heard a clarion call, and along the road just beyond the buildings lining the far bank came a great, enclosed red coach, eight horses hauling. A driver and another man, both in red coats, sat on a high seat at the fore, with luggage strapped atop the roof behind. Standing on a footboard arear, and hanging on to a rail, were two lads- footmen-also wearing red coats. Again came the clarion call, and ’twas the man beside the driver sounding the trump, announcing the arrival of the great red coach into town. Here and there, through gaps between buildings, Camille saw folks stepping out from their dwellings and businesses, all to watch as the coach rumbled in, with some of its passengers lowering sashes and leaning out to see to what place they had come.
“Oh, Scruff, travellers. Mayhap one will know of that we do seek, or even perhaps of the Elf Rondalo, the bard Lisane did name.” Camille hurried on across and along the pathway between a pair of buildings and to the main thoroughfare. When she reached the street, a short way to the left she saw the red coach now standing, horses fretting in their traces, while the driver held tightly to the reins, his foot on the long brake lever. The footmen had alighted to the ground and now handed passengers out, while the man who had sounded the trumpet tossed down luggage to a pair of youths below. Standing on the walkway, a woman welcomed passengers-seven altogether, five men and two women-and directed them into a substantial, two-storey building.
“Mayhap an inn, Scruff.”
As the wayfarers trooped inside, Camille hurried toward the structure; nearing, she saw hanging from eyelets a signboard naming the place as L’Auberge du Taureau Bleu, its namesake-a blue bull-depicted thereon. “Ah, Scruff, have they a spare bedchamber, here we will spend the night.”
