Page 36 of The Tree of Spirits
“Fortune-telling cards?” I said.
“Yes, but not justanyfortune-telling cards.” She gave her wrist another flick, and the cards disappeared. “These are very old, very special cards.” She slapped her palms together, and the deck of cards reappeared between them. “Created by the Countess of Chaos herself.”
I continued watching the woman, trying to figure out the trick—or the spell—she was using to make the cards appear and disappear, again and again. “Who is the Countess of Chaos?”
“A myth,” Rane told me.
“Oh, no, she is very real. Let Mistress Meeta tell you all about her.” The woman leaned in closer to me. She smelled strongly of cinnamon and, for some reason, chicken. Maybe that was her lunch. “All-powerful and clairvoyant, the Countess of Chaos is the most powerful Sorcerer who has ever lived. A Sorcerer with the power to see all: past, present, and future.” Mistress Meeta’s spindly fingers braided together, like the legs of a spider. “The Countess of Chaos is one of the Six.”
“The Six?”
She nodded. “The most powerful magicians from each of the six races, wielding spells most people can only ever dream of. These Six are called the Paragons of Magic.”
Rane snorted. “Give me a break! The Paragons of Magic? More tall tales that street vendors use to sell their junk!”
“I’m not talking to you,” Mistress Meeta snapped. “You clearly have no imagination.” Her eyes softened when they fell on me. “But you. You’re different. Special.” She grabbed my hand, tracing her finger across my palm.
Her hands were much smoother than her heavily-wrinkled face. In fact, they were a littletoosmooth. They felt artificial, like a sheet of satin against my skin. And it kind of tickled.
Her eyes widened. “You have very unusual magic, my dear. You are worthy of these secrets.”
“Yes, I’m sure her purse is very worthy,” Rane sniped.
Mistress Meeta ignored her. She slapped her hands together again, but instead of a deck of cards, a thick book appeared this time. The cover was white with black lettering.
“The Paragons of Magic are real, and this is their grimoire, their Magic Manual,” she said in a soft, dreamy voice. “It contains the secrets to all their spells. With this book, you could learn how to see into the future, the trademark spell from the Countess of Chaos herself. Or perhaps you’re looking for something a little more personal? Within these pages lies the spell to control emotions. To make someone sad or happy or even fall desperately in love with you. Come on, dearie, tell Mistress Meeta. There’s a handsome fellow who’s caught your eye, isn’t there?”
Blood rushed to my cheeks.
Her lips curled into a smug smile. “I thought so.”
I cleared my throat. “Even if there were, I would never force anyone to feel something that’s not real.”
“Teenagers these days are no fun at all.” Letting out a very deep, very dramatic sigh, Mistress Meeta began flipping through the book’s pages. “This spellbook is bursting with cosmic possibilities. How about a spell to travel between realms without using the Spirit Trees?”
“Thatis not possible,” Rane inserted.
“Oh, but it is,” Mistress Meeta replied haughtily.
Rane pointed at the open book. “See there, Savannah! It’s a trick! There’s no text at all! The pages are blank!”
But there was text printed on those pages. Lots and lots of tiny text and diagrams too.
“You can read it, can’t you? I knew it!” Mistress Meeta shot Rane a victorious smile, then her gaze snapped back to me. “You have the sight, dearie. The Paragons of Magic encoded their spellbook so only someone special could read it. Someone like you. This book is your destiny.”
“I’m curious, Mistress Meeta, if that’s even what your name is,” Rane said with a searing smile, “how many ‘special’ people have you hoodwinked today?”
“Hoodwinked?” the woman spluttered. “Of all the ridiculous, insulting things anyone could have said to me?—”
“You’ve likely heard them all,” Rane cut her off. “And well-deserved.” She linked her arm with mine and power-walked me away from the fortune teller’s tent. “Sorry, about that, Savannah. I should have picked a less tawdry street to bring you down. These people—” She quickly diverted her gaze from a man in a pointy wizard’s hat who was handing out pamphlets. “Charlatans, all of them! Con artists! Sharks hunting for an easy snack!”
“But I saw something on that book’s pages,” I said quietly.
“Yes, I’m sure you did. ‘Mistress Meeta’ made sure of that, didn’t she?” Rane’s tone softened when she met my eyes. “She was trying to con you, Savannah. A book of spells from the legendary secret society, the Paragons of Magic? Pu-lease! No one has ever met any of these so-called Paragons of Magic. They are just myths, stories concocted to part fools from their money. Just like all of this junk.”
She pressed on, leading me quickly past tents selling blessed gems and one-of-a-kind artifacts. A large banner hung from one of the tents, advertising exceptional potions that could grant mundane people the gift of magic. And all for a special, limited-time sale price. All without the spirits’ help.
Rane watched me frown at the banner. “See what I mean? Scams!”
