A/n: Some of you are confused about the end of the last chapter. Hey, that was written on a high; it has to do with Daine's need to come to terms with something that's going to happen to her and within her, pretty soon. Some of you should be guess it; for the rest of you- well, I'm bad at keeping secrets, so let's just say that love is in the air, shall we? For Wildphire,one of my most faithful reviewers, who asked if I was from England: of course I am. Why would anybody live anywhere else? West Londoner, born and bred. 

Briar was getting his bearings again. Item one; he was sitting in a table in the Dancing Dove with George. Item two: he was drinking a glass of chilled water. Item three: there was a girl- woman- in the back room who appeared, at first glance, to be the most ungrateful wretch he had ever met. In fact, she reminded him of Tris, and that was never a good sign.

All the same, George didn't seem to be displaying any signs of extravagant indignation on Briar's behalf. In fact, as Briar recounted his tale, he had a sneaking suspicion, based on the blinding twinkle in his friend's eye, that somewhere inwardly George was rolling on the floor with laughter. This was slightly aggrieving. He was about to point out to George that he really wasn't being very sympathetic to Briar's newfound plight when the door to the back room was flung open.

She was wearing a black gypsy skirt that swirled around her ankles and a tan blouse with long, sweeping sleeves. The long top was covered in embroidery, and her hair was swept back with a minutely detailed ivory comb. It was an expensive outfit.

George grinned broadly and stood up. "Elanora!" He crowed delightedly, pulling her into a hug, which she returned with a scowl that did not reach her smiling eyes.

"It's Ela, George, as you well know, and don't think I don't know you're trying to show me off to the guest, poor young thing." Briar bridled. Elanora's gaze swept across George's shoulder, settling on Briar for the first time. "Maybe not so young," she conceded softly, her eyes meeting his without flinching. "Come with me, why don't you?"

Briar blinked and frowned, but Ela had already caught him by the arm and was leading him firmly towards a corner table, pushing him down into one of the chairs and sweeping her skirt out before taking the other one herself. "Excuse me," Briar said tartly, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm, "but what precisely are we planning to do here? Just to clarify?"

"I'm going to do a reading." Ela said shortly. Suddenly a pack of cards was in her hand; she seemed to have produced it from nowhere. "I always do a reading when I meet new people. In fact, since you were so gallant in the street back there," she flashed him a grin, "I won't even make you pay for it."

"You're too kind." Briar shot, leaning back. Ela chuckled and started to shuffle, the cards flicking through her fingers so quickly that Briar couldn't even follow their paths. She spread them out in front of him, the fan moving along the pack. "Pick a card, pass it to me, pick another one. Twelve in all." Every word that dropped from her lips was clipped, precise, focused. Her eyes had become trancelike in their concentration.

As he selected each card, his hand darting to and fro, she took them from his hand and laid them in a complex overlay. Something about the pattern she evoked reminded Briar of Sandry's weaving; she had the same deftness, the same innate instinct when it came to creating guides and moulding something beautiful around an infinitely complex blueprint.

She held up a hand to stop him when he had given her twelve cards, and he sat back again. Looking down at the table, he saw that she had arranged them in a tight circle, with some cards overlapping, and one in the centre underneath all the others. "Ready?" She asked him, glancing up from her intense scrutiny of the lay. He shrugged.

She stretched out an arm and took the first card with her fingers, flicking it over and placing it perfectly back into position. "The World." She said shortly, and Briar saw that the card was beautifully painted with a detailed globe, spinning through a blanket of night scattered with stars. Her hand moved on to the second card. "The King of Pentacles… The Four of Cups… The Sun… The High Priestess…" Briar noted that the High Priestess looked remarkable similar to Rosethorn. "The Page of Wands… The Ace of Swords… The Magician… The Four of Pentacles… The Nine of Swords… The Hanged Man…" Briar smiled.

Ela turned over the last card in the circle, and raised one eyebrow. "The Fool… Interesting. And…" Her hand hovered for a moment over the final, centre card, before she swooped down and overturned it. She let out a long breath. "Ah… the Lovers."

There was silent for a moment, and then Briar said, "Well? What does that mean, then?" he glared at her, but she only smiled widely in reply.

"Oh," she said airily, "I'm not going to tell you about it. That would ruin all the fun."

A/n: This is not supposed to be an accurate tarot reading, although it uses the same cards. I'm no tarot reader and I don't claim to be!