Chapter 17 – Card Tricks

Brogan discovered that in a city with as many learned people as Stormwind, there were still some mysteries. Mysteries such as 'What kind of meat is that' or 'is that even cooked?' It amazed him that many vendors did not make the food they sold, but instead acted as a sort of third party to the chefs themselves. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it didn't quite feel right thinking that whoever made a meal didn't have the confidence to hang around and see if anyone choked on it.

The trade district catered to a thousand tastes. Weapons and armor shops stood across from apothecaries and fishmongers. Criers hawked their wares with a seemingly infinite amount of cleaver slogans or cheap tricks. Glowing steel swords were displayed prominently. Their sellers professed that the blades were capable of slaying dragons, but Brogan recognized their cheap enchantments. Back in Dalaron an apprentice could make them glow any color they wanted.

In a bit of a nook between two such shops Brogan spotted the real deal. Two burly guards in full plate armor stood on either side of a slender man standing behind a booth. On the table in front of him were five solitary swords. They looked heavily used, and if it wasn't for the extra security, Brogan would have been tempted to dismiss the shop completely. Curiosity took the best of him and he approached the booth.

One of the guards stepped forward.

"Move along, youth. You've got no business here." The dwarf had a thick accent and smelled of coal.

"How do you know I won't buy one of those?" Brogan pointed to one of the swords. It was a sinister, twisted blade with a warped edge.

"A Krol blade?" You?" The dwarf laughed heartily. His friend joined him and even the shopkeeper smiled somewhat. "Lad, no offense, but our customers don't wear… that." The guard gestured to Brogan's cloths. The warlock felt his face burning. His cloths were brand new. Sure the pants were a little wide at the waist, and his ankles were a little breezy, but otherwise it might have been the best set he'd worn since he arrived in Northshire.

"Maybe I'm shopping for a friend." Brogan defended weakly. The dwarves laughed even harder.

"I hope your friend is rich, boy." The narrow-faced shopkeeper smiled with mirth. Bidding for the Krol blade is already at three hundred gold."

Broagn's heart skipped a beat and his jaw dropped. The howling laughter of the dwarves fell on deaf ears. He could see that the man was completely serious.

"How…" Brogan stammered. "You could buy the abbey. By the shadow you could buy all of Northshire for that much money!"

"What good are lands or wealth to a lord when his only son is on the front lines in Altrec Valley, or he must lead an expedition to explore the ruins of Silithus. This sword contains magic of a truly epic power. It can make mortal men heroes, and heroes into gods. Who cares about money? You can't take it with you. But if you were to die in Stratholme and arise as a thrall of the Lich King, you would still have this sword. Thank you for your time boy. Now move along."

Brogan backed out of the alley, accidentally stepping on an old woman's foot in the process. He stumbled through the crowd and found his way to an outhouse. This one was one of gnomish design, and had running water in both the sink and the toilet. Once inside, he locked the door.

In the privacy of the stall Brogan dropped his disguise incantation. Once again his skin blackened. In the small mirror he could see the reflection of his glowing red eyes. The disguise needed to be refreshed every hour or so, and you had to remove the old spell completely in order to create a new one. The others accepted his excuses about a bad breakfast or a weak bladder, but he knew they were aware of the truth. Mallet's words about not hating him were encouraging, but the paladin had not actually seen him transform into his demon form yet. Once the old man saw Brogan's affliction, he would probably react differently.

Brogan chanted the words to the disguise spell. It created a prickly sensation, like a blanket being pulled across his skin. His hands returned to their original color. He wondered if he could adjust the spell somewhat, to make him look taller or more muscular. The magic was simple, and he felt only slightly depleted after casting it. Back at the bandit stronghold, Brogan had worked other, more power spells. They had left him feeling drained and shaken. His father had often spoken of the mystic energy within all spellcasters. He called it mana, and a wizard drew his spellpower from it like water from a well. Once empty, only time and rest could restore it. This was the primary weakness of all magic-using creatures. A weakness that cleaver opponents could easily exploit.

With his spell renewed, Brogan stepped out of the stall and back amongst the crowd of the bazaar. The light was fading, and sow as the crowd. Shopkeepers were beginning to tally their daily gains and close up their stalls. He quickly purchased a bread bowl of potato soup and a wedge of Stormwind Bree. He enjoyed it on a quiet bench, and then started to walk back to the Guilded Rose. On the way he treated himself to a bright red fruit drink he had never heard of before. Something from Stranglethorn Vale.

As he passed a small table with a robed figure seated behind a deck of cards, he heard a voice cry out to him.

"You there! You are lost. A compass without a needle. A ship without a star. You drift upon the ocean with no sail or rudder. You are drawn by the current towards a bottomless abyss. Seek my council if you would find your way."

Brogan rolled his eyes in mirth. How many others had this soothsayer snared with his verbal charm. "Sorry old man, my parents were real wizards."

"Then you already know the power of the cards!" The robed figure's hand tapped the top of the deck. "These cards were blessed by Anachronos himself! They never fail."

"Of course they don't." Brogan could not help but smile cynically.

"You doubt my powers? Challenge them then! Sit down and I will show you."

"I don't have any money."

"We both know that's not true, but it's hardly important. It is your lack of faith that offends me so. You call me fraud and shame me in my place of business. I am Rasu! My family was once the seers to the greatest kings of the Arathor line. My father was cast out of Stormwind for speaking against Medivh nearly forty years ago. I will not stand for such slander."

"I didn't say."

"Enough words!" The man held up his hand. "Action must be taken. I will draw six cards. Three for your past, three for your future. I will show you your past. You will then apologize to me."

"Sure I will." Brogan couldn't help but find the prophet's perseverance amusing. "And might I ask how much this will cost?"

"Your past is your own. I can charge you nothing for it. The future is mine to reveal, and for a price of my choosing." Rasu picked up the deck and began removing some of the cards.

"What? We're not playing with a full deck?"

"I remove the minor arcana for a simple reading such as this." Rasu then shuffled the remaining cards and dealt six of them face down. Three in front of Brogan, and three in front of himself. He placed the deck down and put one finger on the card closest to Brogan. He then closed his eyes and his voice took on an odd tone, like someone telling stories around a campfire.

"This card shows the distant past. It shows events that shaped you long before today."

"Spare me the theatrics." Brogan smirked and sat down, sipping his fruity drink.

Rasu turned the first card over. It showed a tower with lightning striking the top and burning people jumping from the windows. "I see that some great calamity occurred in your youth. Alas, with the war, I have seen this card too often. But it is good that we see it here, since no card can appear twice."

Brogan wasn't listening however. He was transfixed by the image on the card. Whatever artist had painted this deck must have lived in Dalaron. The tower's sandstone coloring and dome-shaped crown were exactly like the tower of the Kirin Tor in Brogan's home city. The resemblance was more than uncanny, it was the tower. After the city had fallen, Brogan heard stories about how the demons had destroyed that tower first, using powerful magics beyond the wizard's understanding.

"Are you alright young man?" Rasu asked.

"I'm fine." Brogan realized that he had been staring. Unpleasent memories of the journey to Northshire in his youth, as well has the dream this morning came to his mind. "Just do the next one."

"This card will show you your more recent past." Rasu flipped the middle card. It showed a regal woman sitting in a chair. Just then an insect buzzed into Brogan's ear. The boy yelped in surprise and jerked his hand, spilling his drink. The ruby liquid sloshed across the table and splashed onto the card.

"Dammit boy! These cards are my life!" Rasu dabbed the card with his shirt sleeve. The juice and the rubbing served to smear the ink. As Rasu placed the card back Brogan's eyes grew wide. The juice had dissolved the woman's facial features completely. Now she looked exactly the same a Balba'yorn.

"That's impossible." Brogan stuttered. "It's just a coincidence…"

"Eh?" The soothsayer looked up from his cleaning. Greed gleamed in his eyes. "I told you, didn't I. I would show you three cards and you would apologize to me. The card of the high priestess represents a spiritual woman. Someone in your past who helped shape your soul."

"Shut up!" Brogan was getting angry. It was a hoax. A put-on. "Show me the last card!"

"Indeed." It was Rasu who was smiling now. He knew he had hooked the young man. He placed a finger on the last card. "This card represents the recent past. The events of the last few days, or perhaps even hours. It may not have happened to you. Perhaps someone close to you…"

"Just show it to me!"

Rasu flipped the card. As he looked at it, his eyebrows came together. "That's not right…" he muttered to himself. Then he glanced up at Brogan. The boy's face was pale as ash. His eyes were transfixed to the final card.

"Er… yes." Rasu began. "There is no need to be alarmed. The cards should not be taken literally. The card of the demon represents our own demonic natures. Greed and self indulgence often play a part in our…"

But Brogan wasn't paying attention. The image was a fat, ugly, goat-headed demon with tiny bat wings. But what transfixed the boy was the background. Behind the creature were two humans, one male and one female. They were each chained at the neck like slaves. The demon held the chains in its left hand. Somehow some of the red juice had landed on this card as well. It pooled just above the male slave's eyes, forming an odd shape that almost looked like smoke.

A woman began laughing then. Brogan spun in his chair. About ten feet away a mother and her child were walking. The child was making a funny face and the woman was laughing. But it sounded just like her. Just like Balba'yorn.

"You see…" Rasu started.

"You're right." Brogan was trembling. "You're absolutely right. It's real. Your cards have the power of divination. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

"Of course." Rasu seemed a little taken back by Brogan's enthusiasm. "But I am gracious man, and a forgiving one. I shall…"

"How much?"

"Eh?"

"The future." Brogan was shaking. "The next three cards. How much to see them?"

"Ahhh." Rasu smiled. "Well let's see. These cards will show you the action you must take to fulfill your destiny. I did a reading for Mor'Laiden of Raven Hill just before he left for the war. He didn't listen to my advice and look where he ended up. My skills are quite valuable…"

Brogan dug into his pocket and slammed his coins onto the table. "Take it."

"It's a gold. Per card."

Brogan lifted his hand. Twelve silver pieces remained behind.

Rasu frowned. "One gold for all of them then."

"Twelve silver."

"Listen boy. Perhaps you're new in town. My price goes down, but yours has to come up."

"It's all I have."

"Then that's too bad. I can't be seen doing business this cheaply. Word gets around. It would ruin me."

Brogan made a grab for the face down cards. Rasu was faster. He slapped Brogan's hands and pinned them down against the table.

Rasu hissed under his breath. "Listen kid, don't get so worked up."

"You don't understand. I have to see them!"

"Alright." Rasu glanced around to make sure no one could hear them. "Fine, I'll take your money. Just calm down."

Brogan slumped back in his chair. Rasu swept the silver into his pocket. He then placed his finger over the left most card. Now that he had Brogan's money his enthusiasm waned.

"This first card will show the near feature. Possibly minutes away. A day at most." He turned the card over, revealing the image of a man hanging upside-down from a tree by one ankle.

"That's odd…" Rasu muttered.

"Why? What does it mean?"

"It was supposed to be…" Rasu stopped and stared at Brogan's trembling hands. "Look, kid. You've gotta calm down. You're starting to get me worked up."

"Just tell me what's going to happen! Am I going to get lynched or something?"

"Huh? No don't be silly. The image is just a metaphor. The hanged man is someone who sees the world from a different point of view. He has a skewed perspective. He's an outcast, but he's happier because of it. See. Just look at his face." Brogan glanced down and sure enough, the card showed the man's expression was one of serenity and calm.

"You're going to meet someone who thinks differently. Someone who acts contrary to the norm. This person will have a profound effect on your future."

"Will he help me?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. The card just says that you'll meet him. Or her."

"Well how come the last three were so specific, and this one's so vague?"

Rasu scowled at Brogan. "Okay that's it. Kid, you're really starting to piss me off, okay. Listen, you were the one who said your parents were from Dalaron. And we've all had a woman in our past, so that's a gimmie. You're obviously new in town, so the last card was supposed to be the Fool. My fingers must've slipped when I shuffled…"

"It's a con…?"

Rasu's look of pity and disbelief was utterly humiliating. "Of course it's a con, boy! What would a real soothsayer be doing in this dump. Look kid, times are bad. People need hope. They need to see that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. And they'll pay to see it. So what if the cards are a scam. People see what they want to see. Just like you did."

Brogan felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. How could he be so stupid? He had known Rasu was a fake the instant he laid eyes on him. But he was so lost. So desperate to believe there was someone who could show him which way to go that he had started jumping at shadows. He lowered his head in shame. There on the table laid the High Priestess card. The smudged ink have the hint of her features leering at him.

A cackling woman's laughter filled the air again. Brogan started in the chair. It was her voice. He stood up and spun around, but the disembodied voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"Lothar's ghost kid, what's got you so spooked?"

"Do you hear it?" Brogan asked. "That laughter, it sounds like a woman."

Rasu pointed over their heads to an open windows on the second floor of the house across the street. "That's just Helga the wench. One of her customers probably dropped his trousers and showed her his equipment."

"No. It'sher! She's watching." Brogan looked down at the faceless card. The laughter seemed to grow louder. "Turn over the next card."

"I already said it's a hoax kid."

"And I already paid! Turn it over!"

Rasu said nothing. He just shrugged his shoulders and placed a finger on the middle card. "The 5th card is the most important one. This card represents the path. The course of action that you must follow that will lead you to the last card, your destiny."

Rasu flipped the card. A pale horse carried as skeletal reaper across a desolate landscape.

"Death?" Brogan asked. "I have to die? Or kill someone? Who? The hanging man?"

But it was Rasu's turn to tremble silently. "No…no…no…" he muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"I always take Death out of the deck. It's bad for business. Nobody likes to see it." Rasu grabbed the pile of discarded cards and began flipping through them. After a couple of cards he dropped the deck like it stung him and jumped to his feet. The cards scattered across the cobblestone street.

On top of the pile, face up, was death.

"I thought no card could appear twice." Brogan asked. "You have more than one death in the deck?"

"No! I don't!" Rasu stepped away from the table. "Father told me this would happen. He said if I used the cards for personal gain Anachronos would know. The aspect of time would be displeased. He could curse with the cards, and now the curse is on me!"

Female laughter again filled the air. Brogan glanced up at the wench's window, but the sounds did not seem to be coming from there. The voice echoed and became distorted. The warlock glanced at the table. The last card lay there, face down. It would reveal the final outcome of all of this. He reached for it.

"Stop!" Rasu swept forward at the final tarot. "You mustn't finish the reading. It could spell my doom!"

Both men grabbed the card at the same time. Rasu pulled and Brogan fell forward onto the table, but didn't release his prey.

"Let me see it!" The boy cried.

"It's too dangerous. My soul is at steak! I won't let you!"

The two men struggled loudly. Passerby's stopped and stared. Brogan grew angrier and more frustrated. Balba'yorn's laughter seemed even louder now, and was pressing down on him from all sides.

"Let go!" Rasu yelled.

"I have to see it! Give it to me!"

Brogan was never quite sure what happened next. The frustration, anger, and humiliation of the day had been building up more and more. Without warning he felt it rushing out of him. Suddenly every street lantern for fifty paces exploded. Fire and old rained down onto Stormwind's streets. People started screaming and running in every direction.

The first lantern to burst was directly over their heads. Rasu fell back, his shirt beginning to catch fire. Brogan released the card and stumbled away from him. The woman's laughter was louder than ever, sounding directly in his ears now. The flames seemed to spread with supernatural speed and engulfed Rasu's body. He screamed and tried desperately to put his cloths out. He stumbled and fell to the ground near the table.

Purely by instinct Brogan rushed forward to help him. The final card, still in Rasu's hand, was forgotten in the chaos. Brogan began trying to pat the flames out with his own hands. The fire touched his skin and was hot, but not painfully so. But his hands did nothing to stop the blaze.

"You can save him." Balba'yorn's voice taunted him.

"What? How?"

"A warlock commands flame and chaos. I will tell you the words to save his life. And it won't even cost you…much."

A sickness filled Brogan's gut. He could feel the demoness laughing at his soul. Before him the soothsayer flailed in agony as his skin began melting. Balba'yorn began speaking demonic words. Brogan repeated them, fear of the consequences outweighed by his immediate need.

At his command the fires leapt and danced off of Rasu's body. They flowed like a serpent across the scattered tarot cards and onto the table where Brogan's fortune was cast. The yellow tongues swirled into a vortex, changing color to a deep purple. As Brogan spoke the last word, the fires collapsed onto the third card, the demon.

Rasu moaned in pain. His skin was running off his arms and hands like hot cheese. Brogan withdrew in disgust. It would have been a mercy to kill him. He moaned something and lifted his hand. The final card was still grasped in his fingers. The top half was destroyed, and the bottom was charred to reveal almost nothing.

A piercing scream echoed through the air. A woman cried out and pointed to the table. There, the demon card held only an empty background. Standing above it was a fat, goat faced monstrosity. A minature demon, nearly two feet tall. It smiled at the screaming, terrified crowd and then looked at Brogan.

"You summoned me master?"