(Return to) The Discworld Tarot

The Minor Arcana

Gods know what I'm taking on here as there are fifty-six cards in the Minor Arcana, the familiar sequence of Ace-to-Ten, then Princess (Page or Jack) Prince (Knight), Queen and King. The parents of the familiar deck of playing cards, each family of court cards is slimmed down to King, Queen and Jack, and the only survivor of the Major Arcana is the Fool, who lives on as the Jester.

In no particular order, I shall tackle them as the Muse takes me – I can always re-order them afterwards - and I know it's going to be a long slog!

With one eye on Pobol Y Cwm (S4 Cymru) and thinking in English while having half an eye on a TV show in Welsh – how's that for multitasking? - here's an opener.

The Two of Cups – love

the Twos are all about polarities, dualities and expressly partnerships or interactions between two people. (Oh Iesi Grist ac ei mham ef... there is a suspected child molester in Cwmderi. The tearful mother is talking about "my little lamb". Oh dear, given the slanderous association between Welsh people and sheep, bad choice of language there...)

The Two of Cups is a fortunate card to draw as it deals with love, courtship, marriage, finding the right person, the idea that no man or woman is an island (except Pamela Madagascar.) Simple and straightforward and not requiring much more elaboration than this.

"Well, that went very well, I thought!" Sybil Ramkin said, as she poured tea for herself and the other ladies at the table. She impatiently waved away the parlourmaid who stepped forward to do it herself.

The inaugural meeting of the Ankh-Morpork Business and Professional Women's Association had gone well.

Held in the largest reception room at Ramkin Manor, it had attracted women from all walks of life in the city. Mrs Sandra Battye of the Guild of Prostitutes had spoken to the assembly on how her Guild had arisen from small beginnings to become quietly rich and influential. A group discussion had then ensued on the theme of whether you needed to sacrifice everything to become successful in your own right, including marriage and family. Opinions had varied. Dr Davinia Bellamy, who ran a successful floristry business and who was now forging a second career as an Assassin, said that she'd managed running a business, retraining for a new career, and teaching at the Assassins' School, with having a husband and three sons. You just had to juggle things and ensure he pitched in too, and she had been very lucky in that respect. No, she'd been very lucky with Peter, and she couldn't ask for better.

Bishop Extremelia Mume of the Church of Anoia mildly said that she had never planned to be single when she was thirty-eight. Things had just worked out that way, and anyway her being a priest tended to put men off. She wasn't sure, having never tried the alternative, but she suspected that being single might be an asset for a priest, anyway, as it offered no distractions from the job.

Lady Sybil Ramkin had put forward the point of view that being a spinster for a long time had not stopped her becoming a successful dragon-breeder. But meeting and snapping up Sam had, to her, been the very long-delayed icing on the cake. Marriage to a good man had certainly made things a lot easier, as she now had somebody she could share the joys and successes with.

"It's all about opportunity, isn't it?" said the forthright Joan Sanderson-Reeves. "You take what comes your way and you make the most of it!"

Joan had been a successful freelance teacher in what had been called the Finishing School curriculum: elocution, etiquette, deportment, and cookery. She had started out in girls' finishing schools, then spent several successful years as a teacher at her alma mater, the Quirm College for Young Ladies. Returning to Ankh-Morpork, she had lost a fiancée in one of Snapcase's pointless wars, and buried her grief in her teaching. This had included working as a contracted-out teacher for the Assassins' Guild School, who had for several years sent her boys with unfortunate native accents, or else poor table manners that needed to be remedied, and by the time she formally joined the Assassins' Guild(1), she was already feared and respected by the pupils. (Bad news travels fast). A new generation of girl students at the Guild School were learning precisely how exacting and demanding Joan could be; for the good of their souls, naturally.

"After I lost my Harold, I thought there could never be anyone else, and I just jolly well got on with things." she said. "You do the job that's in front of you. And nearly thirty years later I've been proposed to twice, by not one, but two, jolly decent gentlemen(2). Which only goes to show, you never can tell what life's got in store for you!"

The assembled ladies expressed assent. It was speculated that Joan was being groomed to become the first ever Mistress of the Guild of Assassins. Lord Downey, the current Master, treated her with great respect, and the wary caution that comes of knowing the person a couple of paces away from getting your job is a far better poisoner than you are.(3)

Lady Sybil had no qualms about socially inviting Assassins into her home. As she pointed out to Sam, a gentleman's agreement applied: an Assassin you invited into your home could not, in good conscience, breach the law of civilised behaviour by being so unmannered as to seek to inhume their host. Not even if there was a contract out on you. Besides, Assassins liked a social life too, just like anyone else. In consequence, the city's professional women's club included quite a lot of Ladies in Black, who all knew about the risks normally associated with calling in at Ramkin Manor and consequently were very keen to ensure there would be no misunderstandings. Besides, the hospitality was wonderful and it made a welcome break from Guild catering, which could get monotonous.

Sacharissa Cripslock sighed. She knew she'd made a good marriage to Ronald Carney. He was perfectly decent, he treated her with respect and attention, he deferred to her opinions, they were both bringing in good money, had a mortgage on a house in Hitherhist Road, just off the Ridings in a respectable area of Ankh, and were tentatively considering children. Yes, it was a good marriage. But a discontented little part of her heart kept thinking about William, and she wondered if she might not have contracted a better marriage.

Mrs Proust, the City Witch, sipped her tea reflectively. She'd lost Mr Proust, the father of her two sons, some years before, to a terminal attack of Chrisms. The other women looking at her understood a witch needed to look striking and it paid to advertise. But it was an effort not to look at her and shudder. She was the walking proof of the saying looks aren't everything combined with Beauty is only skin deep.

"You might only ever get one go at love in your whole life." she said. "Some poor souls don't even get that. But the trick is to realise it when it happens, grab on hard, and not to let go. Then you live it to the full and love back as hard as you bloody well can. Or else you're sitting there years on when it's far too late, and being regretful. Regret don't warm you in your old age the way happy memories do. I'm glad of the years I had and I've no regrets of the way I lived them."

There was general assent at this point of view.

I'm not sure what else can be done with this. It opened promisingly but the ideas petered out. I'll post it anyway just so I can tick off another card and if any reader has any ideas...

(1) This was due to her profitable sideline in removing unsuitable or abusive husbands from circulation via rather unorthodox food additives. Working for the Assassins, and talking to her pupils about what they'd learnt in school today, had given her ideas. For more Joan, see my fics The Graduation Class and Murder most 'Orrible.

(2) Assassins' Guild lecturers Grune Nivor and Mr Mericet. Mericet recognised a star pupil, a 98% starred-A graduate of his Poisons class, and Grune didn't want to die a bachelor. Both remained in a state of icy competitive correctness over her, something Joan found gratifying and the other lady Assassins, with the exception of Lady T'Malia, found amusing and just a little bit sweet. Nivor was certainly jolly. And Mericet was, in his own stiff and formal way, a perfect gentleman. But nice and decent are in the eye of the beholder, and Joan was also an Assassin.

(3) In his more pessimistic moments, Downey suspected that Vetinari had engineered this situation so that he'd be far more intent on keeping an eye on his potential successor, than in entertaining any lingering hopes he might personally have had for the Patricianship. Or else it was long-delayed vengeance for the bullying Downey had inflicted on the young Haverlock Vetinari when they were both Guild pupils.