Anthony, Piers Tarot 01 God of Tarot

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"I just want to know my future," he said.
She sighed. "Line of Fate very short, not rising at all until the middle of the palm, then well-marked and forked.
You have had an extremely difficult early life, but will win success through your own efforts, especially through your
imagination. The Line of Fortune, clear and sharp across the Mount of Apollo. You will have good fortune and
contentment in the later years of your life."
"Aren't you just telling me what I want to hear?" Paul demanded. "I don't want to hear what I want to hear! I mean
what do I mean?"
"I am telling you what your own hand tells me," she insisted. "Would you prefer another mode? The Tarot "
"No, not the Tarot!"
"I Ching?"
Paul didn't know what that was, at this stage of his life, so he was suspicious. "No."
"Then the ouija board."
Paul had bad associations with that; he regarded it as a child's game, not to be taken seriously. "No."
"Then it will have to be astrology."
Paul rose, confused and disturbed. "No. I don't want to know any more! I just want..." But he could not continue,
because he did not know what he wanted, other than relief from what? Some terrible feeling...
"Or divination by dreams," she suggested. "Or the tea leaves. Or by the forehead you have a very expressive
forehead, with good lines of Saturn and Jupiter."
But Paul was moving out, fleeing her. He knew there were a hundred or a thousand modes of divination, and they
might all be valid, but just now he was afraid of his future and wanted to avoid it.
Dawn. His legs were weary, one arm was bruised, and dust and dried vomit filmed his clothing. He was hungry and
sleepy, but he couldn't sleep. He must have been running all night, wearing himself out, and now he had no memory
of it and no knowledge of where he was. He must have had to fight again, and he knew he was not safe yet. But
where could he go?
Where had he been going, during his lapse? He must have been conscious and thinking, and he was not stupid.
Maybe he had figured out a good hiding place, and was almost there if only he could remember. But maybe he
could figure it out again; maybe he had already figured it out half a dozen times in the course of the night, and made
further progress toward it each time before lapsing out.
Oooff! He stumbled forward. Then the slow pain started. He saw the brick bounce on the pavement. It had hit him on
the back of the head, but it hadn't knocked him out. He staggered, feeling his consciousness waning; the mnem
withdrawal was complicating it, making his brain react inadequately. He put out a hand to brace himself against a
brick wall.
Children emerged from alcoves, carrying scrounged weapons. A sub-teen gang, out for thrills, money, and maybe a
fat commission from a bootleg organ bank. Artificial blood and organs made natural ones unnecessary, but some
patients insisted on the genuine article. Lungs, kidneys, and livers fetched excellent prices if they were fresh and
healthy, and his own were.
Paul tried to organize himself to flee, but he had trouble remembering why he was fleeing or what the immediate
threat was. Deprogramming was that it? No, that was the girl, Sister Who, and she was dead, and he had killed her,
and a strange man had defecated on her face, and what could he do now to bring her back? He was guilty of
persecuting an innocent person, and he had to pay the penalty had to fit the crime. Christ equaled guilt. He had to
be sacrificed to the inanities of this society a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life, shit for shit yet that was capital
punishment, and she didn't like that
"Now, that isn't nice," a gentle voice said. Abashed, the children faded into the crannies from which they had issued.
A strange young man took Paul's arm, supporting him. "Come, sir, I fear you are injured. We can help you."
"No, no," Paul protested weakly. "I have somewhere to go "
"You are bleeding from the head, you are dead tired, filth-encrusted, and " the man paused, examining him sharply.
"You have the aspect of a mnemdict in the throes of sudden withdrawal. You are in trouble, sir."
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