A bottle of whiskey and three rounds of blackjack later, Luxord shuffled the deck and began to lay out cards in a spiraling pattern without warning. Saix watched him, a hair less steady than he might have liked, and asked, "Do you only divine when drunk?"
"I never divine," the gambler said. "Do you only drink when courting time?"
His lips peeled back in a warning before he shook his head slightly. "I have nothing to fear from the future," he said, confident in this.
Luxord placed each card carefully, although it matched no spread that Saix had ever known. Maybe it didn't matter, and the magic in the spread came from his quick fingers more than the positioning.
"And the past? You cannot know the future without accepting the past."
Luxord placed each card carefully and Saix felt like steel, rooted in place and staring at the cards. "I have nothing to fear from what is past," he said. "It's gone. Done."
"Ah," Luxord said with fine irony. "I suppose that's why I'm the one laying down the cards, and you're just going to read them."
Saix slammed his fist down, making a card jump, and Luxord was already there, straightening it. "I don't need you to divine the future! The Superior's wish is to consult you in this. I've entertained you for the better part of the evening, now do your job."
Luxord finished the spread in silence, and for a moment Saix thought he had won. But when it was done, the gambler observed, "It's a shame the past is gone, or else you might be able to look into it to see why he no longer asks you alone." Then, before Saix could snarl at him again, "Is it good?"
He chose to overlook the jab and studied the lay of the cards. They were just numbers, symbols and faces, and the pattern meant nothing to him, if indeed it meant anything at all. But when he looked closely -- looked beyond them -- there was meaning there; yes, even the future. Twelve would bear witness to a great import, and then they would be thirteen, and of them the last would be the truest. In his heart, he would be the only self he had ever been, knowing no future... no past.
Lucky, Saix thought, enviously, and then everything fell to pieces, the meaning gone.
Luxord was lucky too, if he could face his past with no reservations, no regrets and no longings. Yet still... "Why don't you divine?" he said, mutedly.
"Because that would be cheating." Luxord got to his feet and left the room.
Saix felt like steel: perhaps because he didn't think of the past, and perhaps because he couldn't.
Saix, Luxord: "Driving Without Mirrors"
"I never divine," the gambler said. "Do you only drink when courting time?"
His lips peeled back in a warning before he shook his head slightly. "I have nothing to fear from the future," he said, confident in this.
Luxord placed each card carefully, although it matched no spread that Saix had ever known. Maybe it didn't matter, and the magic in the spread came from his quick fingers more than the positioning.
"And the past? You cannot know the future without accepting the past."
Luxord placed each card carefully and Saix felt like steel, rooted in place and staring at the cards. "I have nothing to fear from what is past," he said. "It's gone. Done."
"Ah," Luxord said with fine irony. "I suppose that's why I'm the one laying down the cards, and you're just going to read them."
Saix slammed his fist down, making a card jump, and Luxord was already there, straightening it. "I don't need you to divine the future! The Superior's wish is to consult you in this. I've entertained you for the better part of the evening, now do your job."
Luxord finished the spread in silence, and for a moment Saix thought he had won. But when it was done, the gambler observed, "It's a shame the past is gone, or else you might be able to look into it to see why he no longer asks you alone." Then, before Saix could snarl at him again, "Is it good?"
He chose to overlook the jab and studied the lay of the cards. They were just numbers, symbols and faces, and the pattern meant nothing to him, if indeed it meant anything at all. But when he looked closely -- looked beyond them -- there was meaning there; yes, even the future. Twelve would bear witness to a great import, and then they would be thirteen, and of them the last would be the truest. In his heart, he would be the only self he had ever been, knowing no future... no past.
Lucky, Saix thought, enviously, and then everything fell to pieces, the meaning gone.
Luxord was lucky too, if he could face his past with no reservations, no regrets and no longings. Yet still... "Why don't you divine?" he said, mutedly.
"Because that would be cheating." Luxord got to his feet and left the room.
Saix felt like steel: perhaps because he didn't think of the past, and perhaps because he couldn't.