The wandering bard Redplume Morningale wrote many ballads about the wonders of Sinai, of the bizarre features of the Forbidden Zones, the ominous glow over the mountains of Bosch, the pink blooms of the sugarfirs of Aelfhem, the treacherously sublime beauty of the white Sea of Sand of the Himaat … but never so many poems did he write as he did of autumn in Sylvania. Many a Gallisian chevalier has waxed eloquent as well about the turning of the leaves, the sinister beauty of death that to them seems only appropriate for a doomed and dying land of ruinous castles and encroaching wilderness.

Now is that time of year in Sylvania, a land of tightly packed forests and gloom-filled swamps, cascading waterfalls and grassy hillsides, chilled by winds coming off the Sea of Ice with promises of winter, and slowly being blanketed by the red and gold leaves that flutter free from their perches one by one.

Even when Sylvania was in its prime, it was still a land mostly untamed, known for its enchanted forests and swamps that would stubbornly regenerate despite the most vigorous attempts to clear trees and drain mire. Few know the lay of the land better than the transients, the "gypsies", who incessantly travel together in their wagon trains, going from settlement to settlement, and over the years finding fewer and fewer of them still surviving the legacy of the Necromancer Wars and the new threat of Gallisian expansion.

The gypsies are often rudely treated by native Sylvanians, but there are rumors that Gallisian chevaliers have put entire wagon trains to the sword, condemning them all as "dirty crossbred thieves" – the "crossbred" part owing to a Gallisian myth that, despite the obvious fact that the "gypsies" are comprised of no single species, they are somehow of one blood, a misbegotten mish-mash of many incompatible peoples.

No, the gypsies are a people by culture and language and bonds formed by their harrowing adventures as they move from place to place across Sylvania, not so much by blood. With the erosion of what's left of the Czar's nation, many are those who have joined the way of the wanderers – or who have thrown in their lot with the murderous robber barons and bands of brigands.

It's this latter part that especially causes the gypsies trouble, for with winter approaching, there will be less opportunity to "live off the land", and the weak and infirm among them will be especially vulnerable.

Thanks to the curse of the eternal wilderness, tillable soil has become more and more scarce, with many farmers preferring to head south to become serfs (that is, slaves) of abusive Gallisian nobles, rather than to see their families starve. It is at this time of year that the brigands and bandits become especially desperate and bold, the unliving horrors of the night are all the more a threat, and wandering bands do well to find some community that will tolerate their presence (and their shekels) for a winter's lodging.

Toward that end, the gypsies have traditionally earned their welcome by virtue of entertaining the poor farmers and woodsmen of the land. When the wagon train rolls into town when the leaves are turning color and the cold winds blow, it is the closest that Sylvania will ever come to a traveling circus. The wise will always know that it is best to watch one's coin purse rather than the entertainment, but the welcome distraction bids the villagers to forget about that Dromodon that disappeared mysteriously last year, or a few misplaced shekels.

The gypsies have come to Blackshire County, presided over by the young lord and lady Kurai – the black brother and white sister, between them legendary in tales of their strange luck and wild adventures. Due to the chaotic nature of Sylvanian titles, with the breakdown of the old hierarchy of territories, somehow the sister is known as Duchess Eve Kurai, and the brother as Count Feli Kurai. If Eve is a duchess of anything, it must be of business ventures, for her railroad has braved monsters, swamps and Gallisian sabotage to lead right out of Sylvania and – it is said – on into Chronotopia. As for Feli, he is renowned for "bad luck", yet somehow it must have been good enough to grant him a castle and dominion over a relatively monster-free valley of rolling hills, tall trees, and fertile farmlands. Best of all, they have a reputation for being hospitable.

It is nearly Reckoning Eve, the holiday traditionally starting at sundown, and ending at sundown the next day. It is the late afternoon on the day of One Reckoning, on a crisp and cool day, under a sky blanketed with gray. Soft breezes stir dry leaves momentarily from their resting places on the ground to twirl and dance, then settle down once more. Tentative trills of flutes compete with the hammering of a mallet on tent stakes and the high giddy laughter of children running free.

The Reisender Wagon is decorated with small figures of flying Eeee carrying (once) colorful streamers, or playing instruments – a hint as to the performing specialty of the winged inhabitants. A canopy has been pitched off one side of the wagon, using one wall for support, and a couple of poles to suspend the other corners, to shelter the area where an Eeee woman juices some fruits obtained while passing an abandoned orchard a few leagues back down the road.

Another wagon belongs to a relative newcomer to the traveling band – it is painted faded blue that is still dark around the corners and recesses, festooned with wooden stars caked with flakes of golden paint. A banner on the side reads "Madame Xanadu – Knows All, Tells All", and it is home to an old Korv fortune teller, accompanied by a large, quiet and by all accounts simple-minded Appaloosa Rhian who hauls the cart in lieu of a more traditional beast of burden. (When not hauling the cart, he spends most of his time sitting outside the wagon and chewing hay.)

One of the best-kept wagons would belong to Nineve Radovah, a Khattan woman who wears a collage of the drab and the exquisite, a plain shawl about her shoulders contrasted by the richly red silken head-scarf about her head, and the faux gold (chitin) hoops in her ears. Once upon a time, she must have been truly beautiful; she has a brood of nine young girls of varying age from kittendom to womanhood, but none of them looks like a sister of the next – though it is never brought up, most of the gypsies have come to their own conclusions that not a one of them shares the same father.

Nonetheless, the girls are excellent dancers, painstakingly trained by their unforgiving mother, and they draw in many shekels and gifts for her – and, by extension, the whole of the train, for Nineve is generous when it comes to giving gifts to her neighbors. Though the gypsies by and large are not overly concerned with the morals of their fellows, no doubt this practice has made them even more accommodating of Nineve's "eccentricities". (There are some who have supposed that the reason she has never married is that she is a witch, following an old and long forgotten faith.)

One of the shabbiest wagons would belong to the train's perpetual ne'er-do-well, Borg the Big. He is a strong-man among strong-men, simple-minded and so gullible that it seems a joke he could ever keep on with a band of gypsies. He is a Rhian, large, muscular, and slow, and not a few have noticed some similarities on that count with Madame Xanadu's Appaloosa servant. However, he is a sleek black stallion, handsome by all accounts even though his mane is slowly graying, and – much to his humiliation at times – given to speaking far more often than the silent wagon-hauler.

Borg's family is a relative oddity, in that he is one of those few who has crossed species lines in his marriage, wedding a sharp vixen by the name of Dawndra. Even more curious is the fact that he somehow managed to sire a son only a few months after wedding Dawndra. He just takes it in stride, and is proud of his son. If anyone challenges the idea that it's genuinely his son, he'll point out the fact that his son, Hexen, is the same shade of black as he is. (Never mind the fact that Dawndra happens to be dark-furred herself.)

There are a few wagons beside this, and between them all, it should be quite a show for Reckoning Day. Of course, there are always the stories of ghosts popping up on Reckoning Day, and Sylvania is strange enough (and the gypsies experienced enough) to realize that sometimes this does indeed happen. One can just hope that they'll be friendly ghosts this time.

A shadow sweeps over the clustering of wagons as the telltale flapping of leather wings echoes overhead. Ebony fur, coupled with a streak of white glides through the air above the camp, occasionally making sharp turns and dives. The Eeee takes a sharp airborne hook to the right, wings outstretched. During the hook, he cuts through one of the shafts of sunlight that cut through the usual gloom of overcast skies, outlining his form with a golden halo. His silver eyes turn toward the camp and he smiles. Gracefully, he curves his flight path just a bit more and swoops toward it. At the last minute, he flaps his wings hard and angles himself upright, settling down onto the grasses near the Reisender wagon. "Wonderful day, isn't it, Daia? {Translation: Daia = Mother}" he says to the bat sitting beneath the canopy. He pauses to take in a deep breath, then asks, "Do you think the gorgio village will welcome us?"

Sabine Reisender looks up from her juicing, and smiles when she sees her son swooping in. Not pulling her pulp-spattered hands away from her work, she idly waves a wing. "Yes, though do not dance so much for them in the sky, darling son, or they will have seen enough sport that they will not come to see our festival this night!"

Alptraum claw-combs back his windblown hair and digs his hat from his belt. Quickly, he eases the hat between his ears to keep his hair from falling over his eyes. "Arvalie," he replies, grinning a bit sheepishly. "It's a just such a wonderful day, though, I couldn't help it," he says. The Eeee's voice then lowers and he adds, "Plus, I had to go out and, um, you know. Since I wouldn't get a chance tonight."

"Your mother need know nothing, darling son, so long as you stay out of trouble," Sabine says, returning her attention to the pulping. "Now, be endearing and see if you can help your father. The streamers are tangled, and he'll surely break his back stooping over like that, trying to straighten them."

"Ah, is he still in the wagon trying to sort them out? He was doing that when I left earlier," Alptraum replies as he heads toward the back of the wagon. His wings flick out, then ease to his back and the claw tips curve around his neck to keep them out of the way. He reaches the door and knocks. Moments later, he opens it and peers inside, "Father?"

"Yes, son?" Dimitris says, as he struggles with a tangle of streamers that were too hastily packed away during the very fast retreat the gypsy train made from the last town when their welcome wore out too quickly. The streamers are still fairly brightly colored, despite wear and much tear, consisting of poles with long strips of fabric and stringed shiny baubles guaranteed to give a Vartan pause when sailing behind a high-flying Eeee doing loop-the-loops and other tricks for the enjoyment of a crowd.

The ebony Eeee steps inside and closes the door. "Daia sent me to help out with the streamers. If I'd known they were going to be such a problem, I'd have not left earlier," Alptraum says. He heads over and kneels down beside the pile, canting his head to the side to inspect the mess. "Think we'll have a good turnout tonight?" he asks, as he picks up one pole and gives it a light shake in hopes that some of the tangles might undo.

Dimitris wipes his brow with one hand, and releases the streamers to reach back and grasp his back with the other. "It is a good place, and the people are happy here, but not so wealthy as to drive us away. They will be generous, I am sure of it. Let us not make them change their minds, hmm?"

"Don't worry about me," Alptraum replies, "I'd be more concerned about Borg. You know how he is." He glances up and says, "Go and sit down. I'll sort the streamers out. Daia will kill both of us if you hurt your back again." He looks back down at the streamer, which is more tightly tangled from the shaking. He snarls a bit at the uncooperative streamers, fangs glinting in the lamplight and shakes his head. So, he takes a different approach; he finds the end of one of the streamers and starts to work it backward, trying to detangle them one at a time.

Dimitris sighs, grunting as he slowly coaxes his back into an upright position once more. "You're a true blessing, my son. I will take you up on your offer, then – for a time. But let me know if you do not think we can get these ready before sundown." With that, he leaves Alptraum alone with the task … and, actually, Alptraum is making some headway. It could simply be that Dimitris can focus little on his work, when he is worrying so much about his troublesome back.

Alptraum folds his legs and settles down into the floor, figuring he'll be at this for some time. Steadily, he works each streamer back through the tangled mess. While he works, fond memories of performances surface in his mind. He smiles, thinking back through the good times they've had. His mind then shifts to thinking of the music he'll perform tonight. The Eeee suddenly halts his work on the streamers, as he remembers tonight he wanted to play the song that's haunted him for as long as he can remember. "Bah," he mutters and shakes his head, "Mind to work. Perhaps one day you'll know where it came from."

There's a loud banging on the door, even though it's partially open. A black vulpine face peeks around. "Ho there, Traum!" Hexen says. "I just got my fortune told! I'm going to be lucky in love!"

Traum's silver eyes narrow a bit at the noise and he looks up. "Is that so?" Traum replies, smirking slightly, "Seriously, though, you actually went to see the fortune teller? To be honest, she creeps me out a bit." He sits back, glad to take a break from the streamer mess. "Well, come on in," he says, "You're going to have to tell me everything now."

Hexen grins and slips on in, then sees the tangled mess. "Ho now, wait a minute. Coming in isn't dependent upon me helping you clean this up, now is it?" He eyes the tangled streamers warily.

"Now, that depends," Traum says slowly, " … on how good of a story you make out of your visit to the teller." He winks, then gets back to work on the current disaster in front of him.

Hexen laughs. "So it will involve some work! All right then, I'll take up your challenge." He gets a "serious" glint to his eye, posing as if about to impart upon Traum a sinister tale of great peril and adventure. "It all started when Katka goaded me into paying a visit to the old bag of feathers – trying to lay a burden of guilt on me for not being a 'nice young boy' like I ought, and humoring my elders. Well, seeing as it couldn't harm to make a good impression on Katka, I took her up on it."

"No sooner did I approach her wagon, thinking of how I was going to bargain for a fortune without actually putting up some shekels," Hexen continues, "but the old bird looks right at me and caws, 'Der iz der badden luckenin in der air, der iz ya! KAW! KAW!'" The fox's mock accent sounds more Chronotopian than the Korv's peculiar version of Sylvanian.

Alptraum chuckles quietly and shakes his head. He looks up momentarily and comments, "See? She's creepy. And I think she's … lost a few cards over the years. So what did she say next?"

"And then she grabbed me by the arm and dragged me right to the wagon, cawing and cawing and saying she was going to give me my fortune, and see what dire omens were upon me, or some rubbish like that," the fox adds, putting on airs of being miffed by the treatment. "You could choke on all the smells in her wagon. You can cut the incense smoke with a knife, I'm telling you. Baubles hanging all around – would put a Vartan into a seizure! But then she gazes into this crystal ball, cawing and humming to herself, mumbling nonsense, and every once in a while just glaring up at me like I'd said something foul – but I was quiet at a Skeek, I'm telling you!"

"And, oh, she clucks her tongue, shakes her beak, makes a big fuss, and doesn't tell me anything, except for this business about the threads of fate and an unraveling tapestry and other such rot, and how something's going to happen here," the fox rambles. "So then she gets out her deck of cards. I'm half expecting to see every card turn up 'Death' by now, believe you me!"

Alptraum pauses and looks up. One of his ears flick, rather curious now.

"So she puts out the cards, and – you know me – I never was much for that sort of thing, so she could probably tell me that my future in the cards is that I'll be torn apart by rabid chipmunks, but then she puts them down, and clucks and caws, and looks generally annoyed … and then tells me that my fortune is that I'm going to meet someone really special, that love is in my future – and, oh yeah – a struggle. And that's it! No death, no curses, no dire omens. And I could hardly believe it. I actually asked, 'You mean, that's it?' And she caws, 'Ya! Ya! Now zhuu, zhuu, off vishu!' And I'm telling you, she looked disappointed, like she wanted to see those rabid chipmunks pop up."

A grin breaks out on the Eeee's face and he starts laughing. "And people think I'm strange," he says between laughs, "Just wait, she'll hire a rabid chipmunk will fall in love with you or something." He tries to settle down and get back to work on the streamers. "If she said all that to you, what would she say about me, hmm?" he asks, "Probably predict hordes of monsters coming for me, or something."

"Better you than me! Unless, of course, they're flying monsters," the fox suggests. "But even then, probably still better you than me." He winks. "Eh, I'll help you with that anyway. It's a sad, sad thing, seeing you wrestle with those. Here, let me show off my vulpine dexterity." He cracks his knuckles, and picks a line to start straightening out.

Alptraum sits back for a moment and lets the fox get one of the streamers. "'Course if you listen to some of the people around, they'd call me the monster," he says. He gets back to work as well only to ask a minute later, "Anyway … Do you think there's really anything to it? Do you think she really can predict the future?"

It looks like, as Alptraum asks, "Do you think there's really anything to it?" that Hexen is about to answer one thing, but when Alptraum finishes his thought, he pauses and then replies, "Well, hey, I'd say if she can't tell the future, she made a pretty good guess of character. I mean, why shouldn't I be lucky in love? I'm getting pretty handsome, if I do say so myself. Trouble is, not a single vixen among us – excepting my mom, of course. I mean, if Katka weren't a Khatta … " He frowns as he lets this sentence die, then quickly shakes his head. "Hey, I hear this is a pretty mixed county. Maybe there are some families of my kind here. Maybe even your kind."

The Eeee shrugs. "Yeah, maybe," he replies, "It's not like I'm not happy here. I love my parents. This is my home. But … " He sighs softly, "Just not knowing. You know the tribe found me when I was around two, right? It would just be nice to know where I was from." His silver eyes flick to the fox and tries to change the subject, "So, what's this about Katka? You aren't starting to like her, are you?" He grins.

Hexen tries to grin, but it's a very uncomfortable one. "Well, yeah, of course I do. Who wouldn't? But, you know, I'm not like … well … not like Mother and Father." He may not be the sort to have blushing ears when put on the spot, but the nervous tic in his eye betrays him even more soundly. "I wouldn't mind knowing a few things about myself, really. But Mother gets offended if I even suggest there's anything more to the tale of how I came about. But even an idiot knows… " He stops and sighs, shaking his head.

"Avarlie, but, she is your mother, at least. You are part of the tribe. Whereas me … " Traum says, "I'm not. You know your true name. I don't know mine." He sighs, then grins, "Of course, it may be why we get along as well as we do. Both knows what it feels like, Avra?" He pauses to work more on the streamers and gets a few more untangled, before asking, "… you think the Teller might know something about me … ?"

"The fortune teller might know any number of things," Hexen says with a shrug, "or nothing at all. My mother has told scores of fortunes, and hasn't an ounce of magic in her. And I'd bet my tail that Nineve can't cast a single spell. Real mages don't lurk in gypsy trains – they serve kings and queens, they raise tall towers, they get rich. But all that said … she's been to a lot of places, I'm told. Nobody knows quite where she came from."

Alptraum lets out a long sigh, then points a clawed fingertip at Hexen. "Why you," he says, grinning, "You've made me curious now. I'm going to have to stop by her wagon after I finish with the streamers. Speaking of which, if we get moving, shouldn't take to terribly long." He then shrugs, "And hey, being a gypsy isn't all bad, is it? We're free."

"So's our show," Hexen grumbles. "I really hope they're more generous than the last town." And with that, he focuses more on helping Alptraum get some of the tangles undone. His vulpine dexterity may not be legendary, but he's not doing that shabby of a job making headway. Between the two of them, they might get done in record enough time to thoroughly befuddle Dimitris – especially if Alptraum doesn't let on that he had help.

Alptraum puts most of his attention into detangling the streamers. "So do I," Traum comments, "I do love flying and performing, but winter is approaching. We need to have the money to prepare for it. Wagons need repairs, food needs to be stored, and so on." After a moment, he says, "And I sincerely hope we don't get chased out of town again."

Hexen winces at the reminder. A short time of relative silence prevails, and then … "Aha!" Hexen proclaims. "On the last one!"

"Race you! If I win, you have to tell Katka she's cute," Traum says and waggles his eyebrows, "Go!" The Eeee then furiously works on the streamer in an attempt to outdo Hexen.

"Noooo!" Hexen wails, and works just as furiously.

The bat and fox race to complete their streamers, Hexen's natural dexterity being defeated by his own panicked nervousness to get done or else. It seems that they're neck in neck, about to finish and then –

The Eeee deftly slips the streamer free, right before Hexen finishes with his. He raises his arms and cheers! A huge grin creeps onto Alptraum's face and he points at the vulpine. "And that's for making me laugh during the last performance. Hah! Now you've gotta tell her you think she's cute," Traum says smugly.

Hexen finishes his but an instant after Alptraum's pose of victory. "Gnash, gnash, gnash it!" he curses, tossing down the streamer. "I should tangle this all up again so we can have a rematch! That's not fair! What was I going to get out of this if I won, anyway?" He groans.

"That's a good question, actually," Traum muses, "Well, perhaps I wouldn't have sought revenge for making me laugh, eh?" The Eeee shrugs and laughs. "In all seriousness, you don't have to tell her. I'm just teasing. But … maybe it's fate! Maybe this is where you'll be … lucky in love," Traum says, fluttering his eyes at the vulpine as he drags out the last few words.

Hexen runs his hand down his muzzle. "Augh. Alptraum, you really are a nightmare! But my word is my bond. Oh, please, Katka, don't kill me… " He whimpers melodramatically. "Just for this, though, I want to find out what your fortune is," he declares, as he gets up to get the door.

Alptraum gets to his feet to follow. "Oh, certainly," he replies, "Tag along if you like. Should prove interesting."

Hexen chuckles wickedly. "Oh, I sure hope it will be!" He leads the way out, jogging over toward Madame Xanadu's wagon … and pointedly avoiding the Radovah wagon. (It would seem he's not overly eager to live up to his half of the bargain just yet… )

Traum hops from the back of the wagon, his wings flicking open slightly as his feet thump to the ground. He jogs after the vulpine, but can't help and glance toward the Radovah wagon. He grins and wishes he could watch when Hexen does tell her.

Katka happens to be looking in the direction of Traum and Hexen as they pass, though she quickly covers, as if she just happened to be scanning past them to instead look curiously at Madame Xanadu's wagon. Katka is indeed a beauty, already dressed up for her part in her family's performance, with a silken headscarf tying back her raven tresses, little star and sun bauble earrings in her ears, a blousy-sleeved dress with a tightly wrapped sash about the middle, and little belled cuffs on her ankles and wrists, with a matching belled collar.

A short set of steps lead up to the door in the back of Madame Xanadu's wagon, and a lantern hangs to one side, displaced by the head of the large Appaloosa Rhian who leans heavily against the wagon, frozen in the middle of a chore of raking up leaves away from the wagon … somehow having fallen asleep standing up.

"Zhut up, zhut up, Bruno!" comes an annoyed caw from the wagon. A broomstick pokes out of a window, vainly trying to reach the horse, but not quite making it around the corner. Instead, it just whacks against the window-frame, making a sharp cracking noise. "Zhur snoring vil scare avay zhe koostoomers! BRUNO!"

Traum rubs his hands together nervously. He starts reconsidering the idea of talking to this strange old lady. One look over to Hexen, however, convinces him that he's not getting out of it. "Hexen, why don't you wake Bruno up and I'll knock, eh?" he asks as he reaches out slowly to the door and knocks.

As it turns out, it seems that Traum manages to accomplish both – As odd as it might be that his little knock somehow has more effect than the crow's cawing and banging with the broomstick, the Rhian snorts and shakes his shaggy mane when Traum's knuckles make noisy contact with the door.

"Because I don't need to, that's why," Hexen says, stepping back from the big horse.

"Oh, well you can go talk to Katka, then," Traum replies with a grin, "She's just over there."

The horse shifts position, and steps away … removing his big meaty hand from where it had been resting against the top of the door. Immediately, the door pops open, revealing a black beak that pokes out. "Aha!" the gypsy Korv caws. "Eez a foul omen! Eez ZHU zat has ze curse, I am zhinking! Come in! Come in! I zhall read zhur fortune, zhu leetle boy!" And just as quickly, the beak vanishes, and a great commotion can be heard within the wagon, as if things were being thrown and crashed about.

Hexen looks wide-eyed at the wagon. "Uh … yeah … talking to Katka sounds safer right now, I am thinking – er, I mean, I think."

Alptraum looks at Hexen and swallows, "Okay, she's even weirder than you described. Good luck with Katka." He takes a breath, and shakes his head, muttering, "Narkri bak. {Translation: bad luck}" Slowly, the Eeee steps inside.

Hexen just tosses Alptraum a wicked grin before vanishing from sight. As for the interior of the wagon … Alptraum hardly did it justice. The smell of incense is so thick that it's a wonder he didn't catch a heavy whiff of it on his way over, and it's almost enough to make his eyes water – and certainly to wish for less cramped quarters and better air circulation.

On each side of the entrance are shelves tightly packed with strange curios and dangling talismans and crystal pendants. Some of the items are such interesting things as small glass perfume flasks filled with new contents – such as "Love Potion" and "Dream Eater" – and newly sealed with wax.

Traum coughs and steps further inside. He blinks often as he peers around, curious. "So, what is this about … " he asks slowly, "… being cursed?"

A couple of chairs are crammed in, just before a table that divides the wagon in half – a table covered with a faded blue cloth with a pattern of yellow stars, and a big crystal ball in its center. Behind the table, there is a bead curtain, and the gypsy Korv herself pushes through the curtain, making her grand entrance. "Aha! Zo, zhu come to Madame Xanadu to learn zhur fortune, ya? Zeet down, zeet down, leetle boy!"

Alptraum quickly pulls off his hat, letting his white mane of hair fall free. "Certainly, Rauni Xanadu," he replies. He moves over to the chair and scoots it out as best he can, then settles into it, mindful of his wings.

"Haf zhu a qveszhun on zhur mind for ze cards?" the Korv asks, as she looks through the crystal ball, her own features bizarrely distorted by the sphere.

"You seemed to have something to tell me, even before I came in," Traum replies, "But, I do have a specific question." He swallows, "Can you tell me where I'm from?" He pauses, then can't help but ask, "And what did you mean by curse?"

The Korv laughs. "I tell ze future, not ze past! If zhu haf a qveszhun, eet zhould be about ze future: buziness, love, trouble, forzhune. Zat eez vat ze cards tell. But zen, if only zhu had ze cards, zhu vould not need Madame Xanadu, ya? Let me gaze into ze crystal ball, zhen, and zee vat I shall zee." She focuses her beady little eyes on the crystal ball, and waves her shaking wing-claws over it, clucking unintelligible phrases arcane even to gypsy ears.

The Eeee's ears flick nervously. Even his wings twitch now and then as he tries to remain still and listen.

"I zee darkness," the Korv mutter-caws. "I zee clouds hiding zhur past. I zee zhat zomevun vants zhur zecrets kept zat vay." She cocks a feathery eye-ridge, looking up at the bat. "Are zhu so zhur eet eez not zhu who vant ze past to remain clouded, ya? **KAW!**"

"Why wouldn't I want to remember my past?" Alptraum asks defensively. "It couldn't have been so bad that I'd want to forget it … could it?" He then adds in a soft voice.

The Korv clucks, shaking her head as she looks into the ball. "Maybe eet eez because zhu vere so young. Oh! Vat eez zhees? Zhur parents are not vat zhey seem! Zhu haf true parents of a faraway place … a dark, shadowy place. A place of zecrets … and of death."

Alptraum inhales softly at the mention of death. Surely she's saying that to be dramatic, he thinks. "I never knew my true parents," Traum says, "The only ones I've ever known are the ones who raised me here." His eyes close momentarily as that song echoes in distant memories. "Do you see any more? Where is this place?" he finally asks, "Or, should I be more concerned about my future?"

The Korv scowls as the gazes into the crystal ball. At last, she grunts. "Ya. Eet eez zhur future zhu should vorry about. For een ze future … perhaps zhu shall find zhur past." With that, she moves away from the ball, and pulls up a wooden case, opening it up and pulling out a deck of cards. "Vat aspect of zhur future concerns you most? Love? Buziness? Zomevhat else?"

"Most my age would say love, I think. Hexen certainly worries about it," Traum muses, "But, I've often wondered if this is how my life will always be. Will I always just travel and perform? Am I destined for something more? For something less? Not that I'm unhappy with my life … I love it. But, I always wonder what else I might be missing. Like maybe I should be doing something else." He sighs and mutters, "Dinilo {Translation: Stupid}, I make no sense, do I?"

The Korv nods, clacking her beak, then says, "Eet eez for leetle boys like zhu not to haf to make zense, ya?"

Alptraum's eyebrow quirks, but he doesn't reply.

The Korv shuffles the cards in her wing-claws, murmuring to herself … and then she slaps several cards down on the table, face down, in a careful arrangement.

The Eeee interlaces his fingers and watches the cards be placed down. His nervous twitching seems to have died down for now; he's still.

The arrangement looks like an oddly shaped cross, primarily – five cards in a vertical column, with two cards branching off to the right, and one card branching off to the left in a horizontal axis. To the far right and lower corner, there is a single card, and to the far right and upper corner, there are two cards, one atop the other. All total, 11 cards.

The first card flipped over is in the vertical column. It is the Ace of Swords, though it is upside-down. The Korv hisses in her breath as she sees this. "Zis card, eet represents zhu," she caws. "Eet eez an invocation of will, not natural force. Zhu are not content to let zhings determine zhur fate. Zhu are ze primary actor een zhur life. But … eet eez inverted. Upright, eet is powerful for good. But upside down … eet does not speak vell of zhu. Zhu haff great potential … to be used for darkness."

Silver eyes look over each card as his ears listen to her explanation. Upon hearing her pronouncement of what he could be, he swallows. Briefly, memories of being called a monster as a child surface in his mind. He shakes them away and tries to pay closer attention.

The next card down is flipped over – the third and central card in the vertical column. It reveals a curious image of a figure of uncertain species, and at first it looks as if the card might be upside-down again, but, no, it is the figure that is inverted on the card. "Zhe Hanged Man," the Korv says. "Zees zpeaks of zhur current place. Zhu are haunted by zomezhing, zomezhing vhich makes zhu unhappy, unzatisfied vith zhur lot een life."

"Been lost all my life… " he says in a whisper.

The Korv then reaches for the next card down – the second to the bottom of the vertical column. When she flips it over, it reveals a complex scene, full of strange symbols of the cosmos, and strange beings with angelic or demonic aspects. "Zhe Universe," the Korv clucks. "Zees represents zhur obstacle to overcome. Eet eez zomezhing fundamental, a challenge only to be faced veeth ze greatest hope … and a miracle."

The Korv then reaches for the topmost card of the vertical column, and flips it over. Revealed is a bizarre creature, in some ways reminiscent of the creatures struggling on the card representing the Universe, only this one seems to have a combination of angelic and demonic aspects, fused together in strange fashion, with two faces, and a chimeric body. The figure pours two chalices of light and dark fluid into a cauldron flanked by a creature of light and a creature of darkness, so abstract as to be unidentifiable.

"Zees eez ze card of Art," the Korv says, "and eet represents zhur ultimate goal. Ze card to be een zees position eez unclear. Perhaps eet means zat zhur goal eez not yet clear – or perhaps to find zhur place in life, for good or ill."

Alptraum, whom most of his tribe knew as a generally happy individual, listens quietly. His expression somber, brow furrowed as he frowns slightly.

Next, the Korv reaches down to the bottom card on the vertical column, and flips it over. Six swords are arranged as if spokes of a wheel. "Zhe Zix of Zwords," the Korv says, and this time it doesn't seem so obscure a name. "Eet eez ze nature of zhur present life. Eet represents a journey – vhether physical or zpiritual. Zees eez ze base of the pillar of zhe present." And with the mention of the "pillar of the present", she gestures up and down along the vertical column she has just revealed with the cards.

Alptraum nods in acknowledgement.

Then, she reaches to the left of the vertical column. "And zhis zhould interest you, for zhure," she caws, as she flips the card. "The past," she says, revealing a card with a black-armored warrior with a long sweeping cape. The face is abstract enough for the species to be indeterminate, but it has dark piercing eyes, and raven dark hair, its face in some ways a negative of Alptraum's own. "Zhe Knight of Discs," the Korv says. "He eez a man of myztery, zhrewd and calculating."

Then, moving along the horizontal line, the Korv picks the first card to the right of the "column of the present". It reveals a tall, beautiful woman, even abstract though her features may be, in flowing robes, with a severe countenance, surrounded by a radiance of light and stark shadows. "Zhe High Priestess," the Korv says, "is here vhere I show zhu zhur immediate future. Eet ees zhe who acts on zhur near future. Zhe High Priestess ushers in change – for good or for evil. Hmm. Zo much of zees 'for good or for evil', ya? I am zhinking I am zeeing a trend. **KAW!**"

The Eeee huffs a light laugh. "So am I," he replies.

Then, instead of continuing on along the horizontal line, the Korv moves to the lone card in the lower right corner. "Now, here eez vhat will be zhe future environment – vhat zhall help zhu zucceed or to fail." She flips the card. "Zhe Eight of Zwords – 'Interference'. I am zhinking zhat zomevun has bad plans, and zhat zhur future vill rest on zhinking outside ze box – breaking off zhe path zhat eez laid for zhu. Unpredictability, ya?"

"What in life is predictable, eh?" Traum replies, eyes transfixed on the cards.

Next, the Korv goes back to the horizontal line, flipping over the last and rightmost card, revealing, "Zhe Two of Disks – 'Change'." The card has a serpentine form twisting around two discs, each of them a pair of swirls of black and white, as if opposing forces in constant struggle or like the spinning colors of fans meant to dazzle spectators. "Zees is vhat zomevun vill bring zoon – zomevun zhaping your very near future. Zomevun vill come bringing change – beeg change, ya! – and a choice."

Then, the Korv goes to the remaining two cards sitting apart in the upper right corner. She flips the bottom one. It reveals, "Zhe Zhree of Cups – 'Abundance'. Zees ees zhur challenge. Zhu vill be tempted vith wealth, or power, or zome ozher material gain."

Alptraum takes a deep breath and holds it as he waits for the last card to be turned.

Only one card remains face down, and the Korv slowly moves to touch it. "Zees eez zhe card zhat zhows zhe outcome. Be avare – eet eez not vritten een ztone. Zhees eez how eet eez likely to be, all ozher zhings unchanged – eef zhu had not come to Madame Xanadu to be looking into zhur future! Eet eez up to zhu vhether zees ees zhur outcome." She looks up to Alptraum with a weightiness, as if carefully measuring his soul.

"I think I understand, Rauni Xanadu," Traum says. "You show the possibilities. I control my true fate." His silver eyes lock with hers and he waits to hear what may be the outcome.

The Korv flips over the card, at first not looking at it … but then her gaze drops to it. "Zhe Four of Wands," she says, showing an image that looks once again like a wheel, the spokes formed by a group of four wands laid over each other, each wand having a demonic head on one end, and an angelic one on the other. "'Completion'. Zhe future calls for zhe perfect completion of a well-ordered plan." She frowns. "But zhu do not haf a well-ordered plan, do zhu? Eef zhu do not … zhen eet ees zhe plan … of zomevun else."

A shudder ripples through the Eeee at the thought of someone having a plan for him. He sits quietly for a time and looks over the cards, slowly letting out his breath. "You're right," he finally says, "I don't have a plan." His eyes shift to the Knight of Discs card and he adds, "But someone does."