The Ill-Fated Fortunes of a Steampunk Madam XIII: Summoning

"Oi, yeah. The cards, then, they're magic? Or at least, enchanted?" Ajax gestured toward the cards that Fiona had set aside. "I had an auntie who read them and told me that. Or, well, not that exactly." His fingers tapped against the top of the table, releasing his pent-up restlessness, trying to summon a better description from the fuzzy memories of his auntie.

Fiona couldn't tell if the feeling bubbling up inside of her was one of irritation or amusement. The common misconceptions around her behaviors were a constant source of ache in her life. Headaches in the form of legal challenges. Heartaches in the form of lost friendships when the gossip catches hold. And occasional stomach aches at the thought of what Justice Weatherbank and his circle of cronies would do if they could.

"No." She had taken a moment to summon the patient, neutral tone that she used to educate the ignorance out of people. Or, at least those who were genuinely curious. Some people just don't want to be talked to. "Unlike scrying or other divinatory tactics, the Tarot isn't about fortune telling. It's about...recognition. Recognizing the things that are already there. Recognizing patterns, recognizing people, recognizing problems."

Ajax nodded, thoughtfully. "That's what Auntie said. That it was a magic mirror, it always showed the things we hide from ourselves."

Fiona's smile touched her eyes with genuine pleasure. "Just like that. Right there. This moment. That is exactly what the Tarot does. It gets us talking. It's a starting point, and a place to turn when we feel stuck. Just talking about it helped you unlock a memory that was fuzzy and indistinct. No magic, no illusion, just a starting point to unlock what was already there. What we bring to the cards is only what we carry with us. Always. The rest -- the whole being a Madam or a Reader or a Teller or whatever we're called in the local place -- well, that's just a bit of good, old-fashioned, peer-supported therapy. The same you would get from the local bartender. Or a truly honest friend."

The Chief Inspector had not shown her anything but politeness and amiable respect, but now something deeper crept into his eyes as he regarded her. He thought it through for a moment, and nodded slowly. "And so, you are charging them for honest friendship. You get to tell them that they are, usually, the source of their own problems, but you also help them see the solutions that are already in front of them. But, you serve them tea -- which is better for their health and probably their marriages -- instead of liquor."

Fiona threw back her head and laughed. "Spirits save me that you're never forced to promote my services! I'll be bankrupt, shunned, and burned at the stake!"

Ajax, too, laughed, and for a moment they enjoyed the warm atmosphere, and their tea. As Fiona refilled their cups, the inspector posed a question. "Something you said earlier is sticking with me. You said that Judge Weatherbank is the contractual husband of Sarah Weatherbank, but I don't understand that term. Why isn't he just her husband?"

"Two things," she said, briefly holding up two of her mechanical fingers. "First, Weatherbank is not a Judge or any sort of official outside of his church. His given name...is Justice. His ultra-There's little reason why you should be familiar with the custom. It's pretty archaic, and is rarely used anymore. And even when it is, it's almost always among the very oldest families, such as the Weatherbanks, where marrying a 'distant' cousin is still a normal state of affairs."

She picked up the deck of cards that had been abandoned in favor of tea, and began looking through them.

Ajax looked at what she was doing, rifling through the cards face up, obviously looking for a particular one. "Are...are you allowed to do that?"

Slightly taken aback, Fiona stopped searching, and met his infinity-shaped gaze with a steady, unblinking gaze of her own. In this house, Chief Inspector, I am allowed to do whatever I damn well please! was the sentence dancing on the tip of her tongue. But. It was clear he didn't mean anything, and that it was her own sensitivity that was driving the feelings inside her.

"How the cards are handled is a reflection of how the cards are used. Right now, I'm going to use them as illustrations for an idea or concept with which I'm already familiar. This, in turn, will probably make it easier for you to become familiar the past few centuries of local village history that will, inevitably, come to bear on your job and position here."

"Why do they hate you?" It was a bold question, but Fiona could see a fierce determination for understanding in his expression, and in those infinite eyes.

She took a moment to compile an answer. "For the same reason that, if they knew, they would choose to hate you." She could see that this answer caught him off guard. It was clear he had assumed she couldn't see him, at least, his true form. "Because I am different. I am an independent woman who values evidence over superstition, and will not be held to what they consider to be my 'place' in their society. I am, in short, a witch as they define it -- one who rebels against the authority of the church and uses 'magic' or, in my case, common sense and time-tested herbal remedies."

"Oi, yeah. Not a new story, there. So...what's the second thing?"

Fiona had resumed her search through the deck, and pulled out several cards. The king, queen, and knight of Swords, and the king, queen, and princess of Pentacles. These, she laid out on the table, arranged like a family tree. "Two families, both alike in dignity. One is famous for its leadership," and here she indicated the family of Swords. "And one is famous for its seemingly inexhaustable wealth." The family of Pentacles.

"Is this an example," Ajax interrupted quietly, "or an actual retelling of the Weatherby situation."

"Both," she said, meeting his gaze, before returning to the cards. She pulled one from the deck, the Lovers, and laid it upside-down so that it connected the Knight of Swords with the Princess of Pentacles. "The problem that these two families encounter, is that the indended cannot bear to be near each other. Neither is even attracted to the other. However, it is their duty to marry and to produce heirs."

Fiona heard the inspector's draw of breath and held up a hand to stave off his opining. "I know. We don't have to like it or even understand it, but it was -- and is -- the reality of the situation."

With a grimace, he stifled his commentary and nodded for her to proceed.

"And so, the young indended sought out the help of the legal system. And thus, the contractual marriage was born. It is form of legal binding, marriage, but has a set term other than until death. Usually, some number of years that would allow for a good chance at having several healthy children.

"Oi, so...ten or fifteen years, yeah?"

She nodded. "Rarely more than twenty. And so the generations went on." And here she laid out a continuing chain of Pentacle and Sword cards, simulating additional generations of the family, sometimes rearranging cousins into married pairs. "In general, it was to both preserve the traditional reasoning for marriage -- political convenience sealed with children as pawns -- as well as give both paries a chance for love and life after the contractual period expired."

"So a twenty year contract was, what, a punishment for rebellious youth?"

"Not so much as you would think. Because the length of the contract is always carefully negotiated with the intended. It is, after all, their lives. And so twenty year contracts are usually for when two people are actually in love. Or, at least, attracted to each other. Often, it can imply that the families are against the match, but also accept the political or financial benefit."

"So how long was the Weatherby contract? Do you know?"

"I don't know any of the details of their contract, but I do know, according to Mrs. Leo...I mean Weatherby, that they just celebrated their 50th anniversary."

Chief Inspector Ajax Sharpe slumped back into his chair, absolutely stunned.