of things.’ Wyld callously took a mouthful.
‘What if you could get those answers? What then?’
The bottle slowly popped from her lips and she tilted her head in curiosity. ‘I don’t follow.’
Katerina waited on her words for a moment, giving consideration as to how to structure them appropriately. She moved a hand to the lacy folds of her dress, reaching into a pocket and wrapping her fingers around the shape inside.
‘There is a prerequisite to being hired for the Gambler’s Den. We’re required to perform, showcase our talent as it were. We’re not just pretty faces despite what the punters may believe. Everyone has their niche. For example, Misu breathes fire –’
‘In every sense of the word from what I’ve established.’
‘Corinne parades the art of ventriloquism.’
‘What might that be?’
‘Tossing one’s voice in different directions. Yours truly has a couple of talents but one of the more peculiar ones is this.’
Katerina removed a box of cards from her person, playing cards at first glance, until the adorning artwork revealed their true nature. Its simple cardboard sleeve was draped with arcane impressions of the night’s sky, cluttered despite being tasteful. These were for anything but play.
‘Fortune-telling? Where did you learn that?’
The cards were removed from their housing and sliced repeatedly in cuts as she divulged the answer. ‘My dear old mother. Sit down, she would say, and she’d teach me under the oil lamp. To my understanding it was a family tradition, one she was keen to keep alive. All things come and go in a lifetime, but curiosity about one’s future never wanes. That’s what she used to tell me. Money and fame can be found in such a thing, if both were your fancy.’
‘It’s an old practice …’ Wyld drew at her chin in concern.
‘You sound sceptical. Tell me you’re not one of those who calls it blasphemous.’
‘Not at all. I knew a street vendor who did told fortunes on the side to earn bread money. Though I’m unsure as to this format you’re using. They were all chicken bones and crystal balls. I put it down to his settler blood.’
The cards were placed down on the carriage floor and fanned out with a wave of the hand. With another they slinked back together just as quickly. Apt hands worked their magic to create a spectacle of the cards being presented yet this was just for show with the design to easily impress.
‘What you encountered was a charlatan. Those displays are just for roping in passers-by. This, on the other hand, is an art handed down from time immemorial.’
Wyld scoffed and though she meant no offence she had deeply rooted opinions on the matter. ‘Cards?’
‘I could give you their long, proper name but yes, for want of a better term, these are cards.’
Wyld leant over her hammock, ensuring that she didn’t move her weight to send her falling out, a feat easier said than done considering how much she had drunk.
‘What’s this imagery? All I see are stars.’
‘Close,’ came the reply. ‘They’re constellations. See, these cards in this part of the deck contain the constellations we can see in the night sky. It’s a widely held belief that they tell a story as a whole, but separately, the order in which they appear can be indicative of an individual’s life.’
Wyld flexed a finger to a point. ‘Why has this one got the moon in it?’
‘Those with the moon are part of the major set. Those cards are, for want of a better word, a little more noteworthy. By the formation of the cards and what we present, we can build up a picture. Get some of those answers.’
Wyld took a sip of courage. ‘Okay then, you’ve convinced me. I’m game. Even false hope is better than no hope at all.’
‘If you would please cut the deck and hand me three.’
Wyld obliged, passing them over face down. Katerina drew a handful more, placing them in various spaces between them, some overlapping one another, forming a distinctive cross pattern. As the first card revealed its secret design upon flipping, the opening revelation was uncomfortably precise.
‘You’re looking for someone.’
Wyld wrinkled her nose. ‘What if I said I wasn’t?’ she tested. There was still a chance all this was going to be a deception – no matter how pleasant the company.
‘Then I have to say I don’t believe you.’
‘And if I insisted?’
‘I would ask why you were lying to me.’
‘Then you may be correct. Maybe there is someone,’ she finally confessed.
‘Elaborate. Tell me about them.’
‘Isn’t that your job while we do this?’
Katarina chuckled. ‘That’s a common misconception for a reading of this kind. It just helps, is all. I’m not trying to prompt you to give me information if that’s what you are suspicious of. It greases the wheels. Makes it all go smoother. Any qualities that I can envision of this mysterious person?’
‘Opening up isn’t something I do well. I’m not drunk enough for this.’
‘That makes two of us.’ Katerina reached over and filled her glass once more, taking in its scent. ‘So it’s clearly a man. That’s painfully obvious given your reaction.’
Wyld leaned back, taking a bigger mouthful. She nodded. ‘Complicated. Handsome.’ She paused. ‘Lips of an Angel.’
‘Handsome is good enough for me.’ Katerina smiled. ‘Good enough for plenty of women out here.’ She took another swig from her drink, coaxing another refill with a shake of the glass. As Wyld leant forward and poured, Katerina’s face fell somewhat. She analysed the collection of cards in their particular order. On one, a crested moon straddled the sky above five stars – the furthest one to the left much brighter than the others.
‘You’re looking for this man. You’re not searching for him in the conventional sense though; that’s the curiosity. There’s more to it than that. You’re tracking him like one tracks a wild beast. It’s what brought you here, to us.’
Wyld reflected on the accuracy of this accusation. She shadowed his footsteps in whatever hole he passed through; offered bartender and stallholder coin in exchange for insight. Scraps of information were procured from those who claimed sightings – some greatly embellished for personal gain. After all, his presence set many tongues wagging. Someone hauling around a reputation as large as his made it almost impossible to remain incognito.
Maybe she had resorted to tracking him much like a hunter would stalk their quarry. So what? Maybe there was no other way. She began scratching at the bottle label with her fingernails, peeling it from a corner until enticing a rip.
‘You
