“The cards,” the woman said. “Do they speak to you as well?”
Lily nodded.
“Then let us see what they can tell us.” The woman gathered up the cards into a deck and began to shuffle them. They floated between her hands like feathers as she mixed them up, and they made no noise. Lily watched as she divided the cards into three piles.
“Pick one,” the woman said.
Lily reached out a hand and tapped the center pile. The woman took it up and laid nine cards out, face down. One by one, she turned them over, until all but the last was revealed. Lily looked at the pictures: a house, a ship, a snake, a whip, a fish, a mountain, a bear, and a coffin.
Looking at the cards, Lily found that she could see in them something that she understood. It was not words, nor was it music. It was as though each card acted as a mirror reflecting back into her mind a different piece of a picture. The pieces shifted, moving first one way and then another as she tried to put them all together. Occasionally, for just an instant, Lily would get a glimpse of what they were saying. She would feel that she was just about to see something clearly, but before she could fully see it, the pieces would begin moving again.
“I don’t understand,” Lily said. “What are they saying?”
The woman smiled. “They speak differently to each of us,” she said. “It takes time to understand them. Try again.”
Lily concentrated on the images, focusing her mind on what they were saying to her. And when the voices began to separate from the babbling in her head until eight clear, strong notes formed a chorus, she listened.
“Do you understand them now?” the woman asked.
Lily nodded. “I understand something of it.” She reached out and picked up the card with a picture of a house. “This is home,” she said, dropping the card and picking up the one showing a ship. “But now I’m on my way to somewhere else.”
She picked up the snake card. “She lies,” said Lily, not certain of whom she spoke. “Her voice is sweet, but behind it there is pain.” She heard the voice of the girl who slept in her belly, and she put the card down before the singing could draw her out.
One at a time, she picked up the remaining cards, telling the woman what she saw in them. Some spoke more strongly to her than others, and some she didn’t understand at all. But she looked at each in turn and spoke the words that came to her. “Money. Obstacles. Death.”
“Now the last card,” the woman said when Lily had looked at all the others. “Turn it over.”
Lily picked up the card and looked at it. It showed a cross. As she looked at it, Lily felt her mind fill with a discordant laugh that seemed to come at her from all directions at once, drowning out the other voices until all she heard was its mocking sound. She dropped the card, and her mind emptied.
“What does it mean?” she asked the woman. She felt afraid, and didn’t understand why.
The woman didn’t respond. She gathered up the cards and placed them with the rest. “You have a gift,” she said to Lily. “I can see that. But it is a dangerous one. You are the moon, showing others what is hidden from them. They will come to you for answers, but they will fear you because what you say is true.”
“Is that the magic?” Lily asked.
The woman looked up. “Magic?”
Lily told her of Alex Henry, and of her dream. When she was finished, the woman looked sad. “Magic is nearly dead in this place,” she said. “The world is old now, and weary. Its people do not see any longer the doorways and windows through which magic moves.”
“How do you see?” Lily asked. “Are you not of this world?”
The woman laughed. “Yes, I am of it,” she said. “There are still some of us who see, some of us who listen to the old voices.”
“What are you doing in this place?” asked Lily.
“Sometimes one comes,” she said. “Someone like you. Someone who sees. Someone who is searching.”
“What do they find here?” asked Lily. “Magic?”
The woman smiled. “Some think so. And perhaps they are right.”
Before Lily could ask another question, the sounds of music burst into the tent. Unlike the song that had brought Lily to the tent, this one was loud and brash, filled with drumbeats, trumpets, and whistles.
“It is time for you to go now,” the woman said. “You must go to the music. That is the next step on your road.”
“Where will it take me?” Lily asked.
“Go now,” the woman said.
“May I come back?” Lily asked.
“If you need me, you will find me,” the woman said.
Lily left the tent and began once more to follow the music wherever it would lead her. This time, she had little trouble finding it, as nearly everyone she saw was moving quickly in its direction. She simply moved along with the crowd as it wound its way through the tents, until she came to a large tent that towered over the others. People streamed into it from all sides.
Lily entered the tent. Inside, rows of bleachers lined three sides. They were crowded with people, all of whom were looking expectantly to the large ring in the center of the tent. A wooden platform had been built in the middle of the ring, and it was decorated with gold stars.
Lily climbed up into the bleachers and sat in the very last row. She had a perfect view of the ring and the stage. All around her, people talked in expectant voices. “When do you think he will come” asked a man wearing overalls and a faded green shirt. “Who will he choose?” said a woman holding a baby on her lap.
“Excuse me,” Lily said to the man in the overalls. “Who are we waiting for?”
The man looked at Lily strangely. “Why, the Reverend, of course,” he said. He turned back to his companions, all of whom turned to stare at Lily.
She had almost forgotten about the Reverend. Now she recalled what the woman on the bus had said about his healing powers, and she became excited again. All thoughts of the woman in the tent and her cards fled from her mind as she remembered that the woman had said the Reverend could heal people with his hands.
Lily watched as the bleachers filled up with people, until there wasn’t a bare spot left to be found. Some people even sat on the floor in the dirt. The lower seats were filled with elderly people, people carrying canes, and fathers and mothers holding children. Lily saw a group of women from the bus sitting across the tent from her. They were holding bouquets of white flowers, and Lily wondered if they’d gotten them from the strange clown she’d met earlier.
The music stopped and the lights went out. The crowd began to shriek and clap. All around her voices cried out. “Praise the Lord,” screamed one. “Hallelujah,” called another.
The tent remained dark as the crowd worked itself up into a frenzy. People stamped their feet against the wood so that it was as if the tent had a heart and it was beating fiercely. People screamed, cried, and cheered. Lily covered her ears to drown out the sound, but still she felt it rattling through her body.
A light appeared at the top of the tent. The crowd went wild, coming to its feet as the light descended. The sound of a choir singing soared up through the darkness from speakers hung all around the great tent, and the noise was deafening. Lily watched as the light grew closer and closer. She squinted her eyes against the brightness, and was able to make out the shape of someone being lowered to the ground on a small platform.
When the platform was only a few feet above the heads of the people in the top rows of the bleachers, golden lights burst into flower around the stage. A warm glow exploded upwards, and the descending platform was engulfed in the light. Lily saw that a man stood there, his arms stretched out wide. When the crowd saw him, they screamed madly.
“It’s him,” yelled the woman with the baby, collapsing into her husband’s arms.
The platform reached the stage, and the man stepped out. He was dressed all in white. His yellow hair was plastered back against his head and gleamed under the lights that surrounded him. He smiled br
ightly as he picked up a microphone and waved at the cheering crowd.
“Good evening.” He had the warmest, most pleasant sounding voice Lily had ever heard. “And welcome to the Reverend Silas Everyman’s Holy Gospel Caravan!”
T E N
BABA YAGA WATCHED the fortune teller and the changeling through a hole in the tent. She listened as the woman told Lily’s fortune using the cards. Finding it interesting, she decided to see for herself what the future might hold for the girl. And so she sat down in the dirt and took from her pocket a bag made from the skin of a hanged man and tied with the hair of a drowned witch.
She scribed a circle in the dirt with her finger. Then she upended the bag and let its contents fall into the circle: a badger’s claw, a lump of gold, the dried heart of an unborn child, a twig from a rowan tree, a scale from a talking salmon, a perfectly-formed mandrake root, a nail, one of her own teeth, the skull of a mouse, a dog’s eye, an iron coin from a realm whose name had been forgotten nine centuries ago, an ant trapped in amber, and a living spider.
She sat and looked at the pattern formed by the objects, using the rowan twig to occasionally prevent the spider from wandering out of the circle. What she saw mirrored the story found in the fortune teller’s cards. Because of this, Baba Yaga decided that speaking to the woman might be a good idea.
She gathered up the talismans and returned them to the bag, which went back into her pocket. Then she went around to the front of the tent and entered.
“Good evening, Grandmother,” the woman said.
“Do you know who I am?” asked Baba Yaga.
The woman nodded. “I do. And I am honored to meet you.”
“Yes,” said Baba Yaga. “Well.” She nodded at the creature standing at the woman’s side. “They took your child, then? And left that in its place?”
“My son,” the woman said. “When he was three days old.”
“They’re always doing things like that,” Baba Yaga said. “It amuses them. Why didn’t you put the changeling on the trash heap and beat it? They might have given you back your own.”
“That seemed unkind,” the fortune teller replied. “Besides, perhaps each is better off where they are now.”
“Hmm.” Baba Yaga scratched the expanse of her chin. “And what do you make of the girl? The one who was here earlier.”
The woman hesitated.
“I’m not going to eat her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Baba Yaga.
“It’s not that,” said the woman. “I’m just not certain what to make of her.”
Baba Yaga understood that sentiment. “She’s dangerous, that one,” she said.
“And also in danger,” the fortune teller added.
Baba Yaga shrugged. “Everyone is in danger. Life is dangerous.” But she knew the woman was right. She’d seen it for herself in the circle. “It could go either way.”
“You’re here to watch out for her, then?” the woman asked.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” Baba Yaga answered. “I just am. I’ll figure out the why when the time comes.”
“I’ll help as I can,” said the fortune teller.
Baba Yaga nodded. “That reminds me.” Her bones cracked as she sat in the chair at the woman’s table. “What can you tell me about this King Jesus?”
E L E V E N
AGAIN THE CROWD erupted in a cacophony of clapping hands, stomping feet, and screaming voices. The more they yelled, the bigger the man’s smile got. He ran around on the stage, waving his hands in the air to get them to cheer even more loudly, until they were making such a noise that Lily was sure that the bleachers would collapse and the tent would follow soon after, trapping them all beneath its heavy wings.
“Are you happy?” the Reverend bellowed into his microphone. “Are you filled with the spirit of the Lord?”
The people put their hands in the air and yelped with joy, like dogs serenading the moon. They continued until Reverend Everyman lowered his hands, motioning for them to be silent. Instantly, the tent was so quiet that Lily could hear the crickets outside singing to one another. All eyes were fixed on the man on stage, who was standing with his hand over his eyes, as though thinking. Lily held her breath along with everyone else, waiting for him to speak. After what seemed like an eternity, he brought the microphone to his lips.
“Dear Jesus,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I feel your power here tonight in this place.”
There were scattered cries of “Amen” and “Yes, Jesus” from the crowd. Lily wondered who this man, this Jesus, was that seemed to have such a hold on the people, but she was even more interested in the Reverend Silas Everyman. She was waiting for him to reveal his powers, and she felt her own palms itching in anticipation.
“Jesus.” the Reverend raised his voice. “Come into this place.” He paused, as though listening. Then his face broke into a smile that creased his forehead. “I feel Him here,” he shouted. “I feel Him here with us! Do you feel Him?”
The people buzzed to life, filling the tent with hallelujahs. Lily felt once more the tingling in her hands, and knew that something was happening. “Amen,” she said tentatively, hearing her voice break out into the warm air like an egg spilling its yolk. She looked around, afraid that she had spoken too loudly, but no one looked at her.
“I know you feel it,” the Reverend said. “I know the Lord is come upon you good people.” He looked up into the stands, pointing a finger in Lily’s direction. “He’s come upon you,” he said, and Lily felt her heart stop in her chest. Then the Reverend turned to the other side of the tent. “And he’s come upon you.”
Lily’s heart jumped back to life, but still she felt the flush left by Reverend Everyman’s glance as though she’d been kissed. She clasped her hands together in her lap and felt the power within them.
Reverend Everyman walked to the middle of the stage. A thin spotlight surrounded him as he looked out into the packed tent. “Tonight,” he said, “I want to talk to you about sin.”
Lily watched as he strode from one side of the stage to the other, looking out at the assembled people, all of whom waited to hear what he would say next. They seemed expectant, as though they knew what was coming and were anxious for it to arrive.
“Sin,” said the Reverend, “is all around us. Even now it waits — hidden — until it has an opportunity to reach out and wrap its greedy fingers around our necks. It waits to choke us. It waits to kill us.”
He came to the edge of the stage and paused. “Some of you here tonight are struggling with sin.” He shook his head, heavy with sadness. “I can feel it, curled up tight in your hearts, eating away at you. I can feel its evil little teeth grinding away, filling you up with its poisonous black breath until you can no longer draw goodness into you.”
The Reverend’s words filled Lily with fear. He seemed to be describing the ache she felt inside her belly, where the girl who killed her father was kept prisoner. It was as though he saw right inside her and knew what she hid from the world. She listened as he continued, hoping to find some sort of answer to what lay within her.
“Maybe there are some here tonight struggling with the sin of lust,” he said. “Who are tempted by thoughts of the flesh. Or perhaps you’re struggling with pride.” Lily could feel people around her moving uncomfortably, as though the bleachers were too hard.
Everyman held his hands up to the darkness at the top of the tent. “Lord! I feel people in pain. All around me, Lord. The pain of sin. Help them, Lord, to see inside themselves. Help them to recognize the sin and to fight it. With your help, Lord. Through my words, let them hear you.”
In the light that remained fixed on him wherever he moved, Lily could see that tears had begun to stain Silas Everyman’s cheeks. His voice cracked with emotion as he looked out at the audience.
“I know the pain of sin,” he said. “I know how you hurt. And I know how hard it is to wrestle those demons who have a hold on your heart so tight you can feel them squeezing
it every minute of your life. But I’m telling you that you must fight them. You must break their hold. For if you don’t, you will surely pay the price.”
Lily felt herself wanting to reach out to Everyman. While she didn’t understand much of what he said, she saw his tears and wanted to wipe them away. More than that, she felt that he knew her, knew what she felt inside and could show her how to fight it so that it never hurt anyone again. She began to understand what the woman on the bus had meant when she talked in awe of the man now on stage speaking. He held the audience in his hand as he spoke to them, and it was impossible not to listen.
“Perhaps there are some of you here tonight,” he said “who don’t believe what I say, who don’t believe in the power of sin. Perhaps there are some of you who don’t know what it can do to you.”
He turned to the back of the stage and motioned with his hand. The curtains there parted, and out from between them came a tall, thin figure. It was wearing a dress, but a long, thick beard spilled from its chin almost to the floor. The person walked to the front of the stage and stood there, lit all around by a blinding light that caused it to blink repeatedly.
The Reverend came up beside the figure and gestured to it. “This is Martha,” he said. “Despite her appearance, she is as human as you or I. In fact, Martha was one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen. She turned heads wherever she went.”
He grasped Martha’s head in his hands and twisted it towards the light, so that she was forced to look out into the crowd. “Martha has been transformed by sin,” Everyman shouted. “She was untrue to her husband, and as a result her beauty was taken from her and replaced by ugliness.”
The crowd murmured in horror, staring at the disgraced woman on the stage. “It is too late for Martha,” Everyman said. “Sin has ruined her. Just as it will ruin you if you allow it into your life.”