“They’re going to die, aren’t they?”
“Probably. But such is life.”
Hart frowned, folding her arms as she stared at her brother. “Why do you do this, Spades?”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that, dear, I detest pronouns.”
“This game you play. Exploring the same moment in time over and over again with different adventurers. What do you get out of it?”
Spades nodded, swirling the wine glass in his hands and then pouring it out onto the table. As soon as it left the glass, the wine stopped moving, frozen in time just as the rest of the tavern was from the moment Hart walked in. He addressed her from across the bar. “That’s a neat trick, you know. You simply must show how to do that some time.”
“You bend the fabric of reality to repeat the same days over and over and you want to know how to stop time?”
“You’re right. Where will we ever find the time for such a thing?”
“I’m looking for something, sister.”
Hart squinted, noticing the change in Spades’ tone. “What, exactly?”
“A change. An abnormality, one might say. You know, the last group of people I sent on this quest completed it without a hitch. Perfectly executed. They didn’t even break the curse.”
“Sounds like they were capable,” Hart said.
“They were boring, dear. I don’t care about competence, I want to be entertained.”
“So you’re sending a group that is the polar opposite of the last one. So woefully unprepared that they have no hope of survival?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’ll give them a boon. To increase the likelihood for quality entertainment.”
“And what would that be?”
Spades pulled out a deck of cards from his coat pocket and laid the top card onto the table. As soon as one corner of the card made contact with the wood, it froze in place, showing a face up three of spades. Hart rolled her eyes.
“I’ll be a little more direct this time around,” Spades said, shuffling the rest of the deck. “As long as it gets me a more interesting show.”
“This is pathetic.”
“You can watch with me, if you want.”
Hart’s face convulsed. “Watch as half a dozen people, possibly far more, get slaughtered.”
“Since when did you become a paragon of virtue? It doesn’t suit you, I must say.”
Spades smirked. “Yet here you are of your own volition, suffering me.”
Hart stood from the table and looked about the tavern, still as a painting. “Tell me something, Spades.”
“Something honest, or clever, or stupid?”
“Something honest,” Hart said.
“Ah, good choice. That’ll cost you, though. I’m afraid information isn’t cheap.”
“I’ll show you how to freeze time.”
Spades nodded. “That’s more like it. What do you want to know?”
“Is this group the one? Are they different from any of the others?”
“Probably not. I expect them to set a record for quickest failure, to be honest. In all likelihood they’ll be dead by midnight. But it’s about the journey, dear sister, not the destination. After all, we all find ourselves in Death’s chill embrace in the end.”
“You really are despicable.”
“Yes, yes, I’m well aware. Now hurry up and undo the spell, I haven’t got all day.” He thought about that for a second. “Well, perhaps I do, and therein lies a new problem.”
Hart glanced at the table, then back to him. “As you wish.”
She snapped her fingers, and the tavern was brought back to life. As the ruckus of the Daylight’s Kiss resumed around them, both the card and the wine fell onto the table, red liquid pouring over the edges and onto Spades’ hands and clothes.
He looked up at her, unamused. “Don’t think the irony is lost on me, sister,” he grumbled.
“I should hope not. After all you do love your symbols.”