This is a series of vignettes centred around a fictional Tavern in the Magic Multiverse.
“HOW deep is your trust in Destiny?” the soothsayer asked. “Do you think you can outrun it? Do you think you can alter Fate when Fate has spoken?”
The visitor to the soothsayer’s tent dropped another coin onto the saucer with the words, “Just tell me what I want to know.”
“I am a servant of Destiny,” replied the man of clairvoyance. “Do not mistake my abilities as those that are subservient to mortal lives.”
The visitor dropped another coin onto the saucer, saying, “You’re not helping.”
A sigh escaped the soothsayer, making him shake his head. But he did say, “Very well. I bend Fate to your insignificant whim.”
* * *
“I have a question, Genie,” asked the man. “How often do you celebrate the New Year, what with The Tavern constantly planeswalking from world to world? Which New Year do you subscribe to?”
The captain of The Planeswalking Tavern, Jéne E. Ilk, put a spoonful of merry cake into his mouth and swallowed before he answered, “I wish I could say that it was up to the patrons, but no. It’s up to me. I follow the New Year celebrations of my home world.”
Asked the other man, “And which world is that?”
Jéne E. responded with a wink and a smile. The other man understood the gesture and let the matter rest unresolved.
Approaching the table was a woman, garbed in elegance and robed in regal layers of fabric and ornaments. She bowed down at the owner of The Tavern and the man that graced the captain’s presence, letting her jewellery clink against each other in a somewhat melodious manner. Jéne E. nodded while the other man bowed his head in the same movement as the woman’s. They weren’t related, but their overly-polite mannerism caused much confusion among observers.
“Lord Jéne E.,” the woman spoke in a soft and careful voice, “sorry to bother you, but you have a visitor.”
Jéne E. laughed and tapped a hand onto the tabletop. He rose from his seat and straightened his attire, saying, “My dear, don’t be so formal. What would the guests think if they see you like that? Take five minutes off and relax yourself.”
The woman answered, “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Now the captain of The Tavern turned to his male companion and said, “Your school of thought could do with a little less standoffishness and more casual decorum.”
The man nodded and retreated into the kitchen. Jéne E. sighed before striding towards the reception hall of The Tavern, turning his attention to the new visitor who must have urgent news to want to meet him this late into the night.
Standing by the reception counter was the same man that had met the soothsayer an undisclosed time ago. The moment he saw Jéne E. he turned and extended his hand, to grip in a firm handshake the hand of the owner of this establishment, to trade smiles with one another, and to ask if the other was well. These were just formalities. The real issue had yet to take place.
“I came to give you my best wishes,” the visitor said. “A new year, a new day, a new era of golden opportunity. May the future be well.”
Jéne E. replied, “You should know by now that I can predict the future better than any clairvoyant you’ve consulted.”
The man forwarded a look of surprise, not expecting Jéne E. to have read his actions so vividly. Regardless, he said, “I don’t doubt your abilities, Jéne. And just so you know this is no mere soothsayer I met. He’s the one whose name we cannot speak, whose intentions we cannot grasp. To know his past is to go insane. You see where I’m coming from?”
An unperturbed Jéne E. leaned against the reception counter and said very calmly, “So tell me what he said.”
The visitor’s face grew grim and red, his hands closing almost into fists, his eyelids coming down halfway, and his voice… his voice was not that of his own. If the man was suddenly possessed, it was the possessor that spoke right now, the words coming out in a steady stream, the pronunciations fluid as the vessel’s breathing relaxed.
The soft words walked passed the man’s lips, slow words with pauses and meanings that were both clear and distinct. Jéne E. listened to every syllable like it was gospel, not missing a single sound or even a single hidden intention. But then again, he smiled, a careful smile like he found the whole thing laughable.
And the highly amused Jéne E. muted his laughter and allowed time to pass so that the possessed man could return to his state of normality. It took a few seconds, hardly a long time, but Jéne E. wished the possessor would hurry up and leave. He wasn’t too good with waiting, try as he might.
Having been given back control of his body, the visitor said, “What does this mean? What will happen tonight?”
The master of The Tavern nodded and finally burst out laughing, unable to contain his mirth any longer. The visitor was appalled at such disregard to how serious the matter was and tried to get a word in edgewise, but the laughter was absolute.
When he had at last calmed down, Jéne E. said, “We’ll cross the bridge when we reach it. But tonight, tonight it’s a time of celebration. Oh, don’t worry. The Magus is well aware of what’s going to happen. And today isn’t the day.”
The visitor was tempted to throw his hands into the air as a sign of concession, but his tact overrode such uncouth behaviour. He managed to sigh and nodded silently, letting Jéne E. revel in whatever celebration he had planned out.
As the two men walked up to the observation deck on the second floor, the visitor asked, “Tell me something, Jéne. How powerful is the Magus? He can protect The Tavern, sure, but can he also predict the future?”
“With deadly accuracy,” answered the master of the building. “Worry not. Now is the time of…”
And it was then that the fireworks launched themselves into the sky and erupted into an infinite number of brilliant shapes, forming a montage of epic scenes against the black firmament. It was a moment of festivity, Jéne E. told himself. Any other issues will have to wait their turn, just like he had waited for this moment the whole year.
>End of story.
>End of story.
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