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A Dream's Fool
"The Deck of Reading is said to be a set of cards meant to divine the future, a gift from a sphinx in service to Alecron. With it, His guidance and teachings are brought forth in ways that impact the person who draws from the deck.
A popular set of cards are the Dream's series; the fool, knight, rook and queen. Each said to represent a different aspect of growth and confidence in one's dream and show successes in the pursuit of that dream.
I have one of these decks and despite many decades of pulling from it, I've never drawn a Dream's series card; call me cynical, but I get the feeling this is just an elaborate game of poker given a different theme.
That's certainly how they're used in my casino."
Aee
"Ledgers and Largess: Memories of a Sphinx"
~Sarah~
It'd been a long time.
Sarah adjusted her glasses as they'd fogged up in the cool confines of the brigantine's hull, sweat rolled down her forehead, snaking to the corner of her eye. Stinging. But she didn't blink; she didn't dare. She couldn't afford to miss anything, squinting against the irritation the half-elf traced the lines of the schematic she'd carved into the impromptu table. The lines weren't quite even, shaky like the blade in her hand, yet she clutched the tool tightly prepared to make any corrections, to root out any misunderstandings, any missed churns or lines that were too straight.
The board had served as their makeshift table since leaving Chance's and now the outline of her- of
their
ship now stared back at her from its uneven face. The drawing was close to perfect but- no. Not perfect. Nothing was ever going to be
perfect
, the prow had a slight warp where the knife had been sloppy.
Where
she
had been sloppy.
"Stop," Sarah whispered as she gripped the plank. "Stop, stop, stop." This wasn't a compulsion forced on her by her Cherub or her god. This was a design. This was an illustration of a concept! It didn't need to be perfect! Not yet!
But that was the sick irony, wasn't it? This wasn't just a design, this was a gravestone and a memorial and a memory given physical form. This was as close as she'd ever get to having told the world about what'd happened. . . .about showing them. Sarah wiped her forehead. This was the thing that proved those before the ship had existed at all, that there'd even
been
a time before the accident.
"Stop this," Sarah loosed her white knuckle grip on the wood and tossed the blade down beside the scrapings. It was time to plead her case. It was time to show them that she wasn't completely out of her mind in pursuing this. She hauled herself up to stand, stretching her lower back against the agony of being doubled over. She paced listlessly from stem to stern, eying the plank and the pile of crappy visual aids she'd cobbled together from what materials they had on hand. She was going to be preaching damnation and death with these tools.
Did she have the right?
Was
it even right?
Sarah could feel her Cherub lingering in the back of her mind, watching. Judging. Pinging her defenses the way it always did when it wanted to know what she was thinking. They'd been arguing for days about one detail or another, one material choice or the next, at times furious heated arguments, but it was her own fault. The Great Engineer expected results and she'd stupidly baited Him with the best carrot she'd ever made. Like an idiot she'd flicked the rod until it got their attention and then when she had the most to lose and least to gain, opportunity had kicked her square in the face and the gods damned Cherub had seized that carrot for all it was worth.
It'd been Sarah's fault. From the very get go, but that didn't matter any more, did it? If they had the ship, if they could make it fly, if they could find a place
away
from the dragon's influence then and only then would they truly be free. The dragon's agent that'd found her in Sorash had spent three
decades
tracking her across the continent. She'd gone out of her way to overthrow the city's nobility and criminal elements alike while Sarah hid in her dark little corners. She'd overthrown an entire city state without war in the streets, but that wasn't enough. . .
That was how these things went; you didn't 'win' with a dragon or its agents. You watched while it tore down everything you held dear
and then
and
only then
maybe would you be allowed to die a slow and painful death at the hands of those you considered allies.
Immortals were a patient lot, most of them with agendas beyond comprehension- it was time Sarah improved her deficit in that area. She eased up to the design sketch, looking at it one last time trying to ignore the smudges on her glasses for the moment. This wasn't just a memorial, this was her last chance at escaping.
She started with a drag cloth through the hole in the floor and dumped her materials on it, dragging them out while her companions looked on from their positions around the camp fire. There was a certain wariness, a kind of unease that said they weren't sure what to make of her or the situation at hand. Even Keiter somehow managed to convey a particular kind of discomfort that she'd seldom seen in him.
The fire lit their expressions one and all with wild flickers and vaguely menacing shadows. Keiter's dusty scales conveyed it the worst, the little kobold was huddled up near the fire with a blanket wrapped around him like a burial shroud- these weren't her companions so much as a tribunal of the soon to be dead.
Did they even realize?
Sarah got to her feet, already dropping into her familiar persona. "I dare say we've certainly covered some ground." In truth she had no idea how far they'd gotten since leaving the last village. Nobody looked ready to take the bait. A different tact, then: "Come now, we've surely put a lot of distance between ourselves an the bounty hunters, forsooth we should be celebrating!"
Not even a peep. Just three sets of eyes lingering on her like she was some oddity.
"Do I have something on my face?" Sarah touched her cheek in mock surprise. "Not a particularly new look for me, but-"
It was Keiter who broke the silence. "We worry about you, my friend."
"I'm quite fine!"
Caldion and Tessarie shared a glance. The olive skinned elf shifted uneasily before she rose and trudged over, enfolding Sarah in a hug. Not that Sarah minded, she returned the gesture and pulled the girl close for the moment, letting it linger until eventually the dancer pulled back, looking up.
"I know Sorash was hard," she whispered, "But we're here if you want to talk."
"I. . ." What the hell were they on about? "Thank you, but I'm quite fine." After disentangling herself Sarah drew a breath, glancing from face to face as if she could discern some meaning from the furtive gazes. Something had changed in the last few days, but once again she'd been too buried in her gods damned work to see the shift.
Another deficit she'd have to fix.
Sarah knew she should've allayed their fears, she should've spent time figuring things out and reassuring them that everything was fine, but there would be time for that later. They needed to agree on a course of action before they got to the next major caravanserai and the trade routes opened into the Nine Corridors to the west. Time was short and her nerve was failing her by the moment. Sarah took a deep breath, avoiding the siren's call of dinner she went about digging out her materials and setting them up.
The three of them watched her skeptically lay out the board with the ship's design on it, the concentric spiral and the ribbon of flimsy copper she'd 'liberated' from the last store. It wasn't like they even understood what the metal was, much less what strips of it were useful for. Armed with her props, she went to work:
"If I could have your attention for a moment?" Nobody's gaze shifted in the slightest. She could do this. She'd sold bullshit to kings and dragons alike, why did being
honest
have to be any different? "You rightfully questioned when I said that this ship was capable of incredible feats! You met Chance who's father saw my design and tried to emulate it. . . .here it is." She stepped aside, motioning to the board. "A ship capable of flight!"
They adjusted themselves in their respective seats, quiet but dubious, like they were waiting for some grand punchline to be delivered. When it wasn't, they started to come to the realization that she might be serious.
Seriously out of her mind, anyway.
"Thirty six years ago, I took a sloop's design principles and miniaturized it- the ship was three quarters as large as this without nearly as much room in the hold!" She pointed to one of the two spherical constructs on the deck of her ship's design. "Put simply, two containment devices empower a series of fans along the central axis of the ship, the fans spin fast enough to provide thrust and-"
"Sarah. . ." Caldion calmly interrupted her.
"Bear with me, this may take some explanation-"
"Sarah," he repeated. "What does this have to do with us getting to the Veil."
"The Veil? Why would we go to the Veil?" Dammit she was already getting off track. She pressed her thumbnail into her palm. "
Keep focused."
How bloody silly were these people? Interrupting her like this, as if she didn't know what she was doing? The nerve. But then numbers didn't argue with her the way people did, even her Cherub had a certain deference. She'd somehow lost that thread among the calculations. She tiredly wiped her hair back out of her eyes and regarded the group over her glasses.
When Caldion looked about to speak again, she spoke up in a low and controlled tone- enough to force people to pay attention to hear her. "Going to the Veil would be an incredibly short sighted decision."
"I have family there," Tess said.
Caldion nodded to the elf. "We've been discussing it- it's our best bet for getting off the road. From there we can plan and pull together some support from the nobility."
When Sarah looked to Keiter his muzzle was focused on her but his gaze was lingering on the others skeptically. He knew what the elves would do to him if they got a whiff of his existence at all, much less his divine link to a human god.
Sarah knew too. All too well. "And what do you think is going to happen if you went there, hm?" She removed her glasses to accent her point and appear just that little bit more vulnerable. Not something she enjoyed, but she'd damn well use it to her advantage if she could. "I don't know if you've looked in the mirror recently, young man, but your ears are a bit low and round. . . .and unless you plan on soaking up a lot of sun in the time it takes to get there, you're a bit too pale to be inconspicuous!"
Tess chuckled a little. "Pot and kettle, Sarah."
"My pallor comes from a life spent working for a living like a sensible person, I dare say he could learn a thing or two!"
Keiter clicked his tongue in that way he did when he was irritated. "He works plenty. We
eat
because of him."
