The Fortune Teller by Gwendolyn Womack

Author:Gwendolyn Womack
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Picador

Justice

Semele’s mouth dropped open in a silent “Oh.”

She had been translating for the past two hours on the train to New Haven when she recognized the name Filippo Maria Visconti. He had been the duke of Milan and had commissioned the Visconti Tarot Decks, the oldest-known tarot decks in existence. They were even named after him. Semele knew this because the Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library housed one of the decks—her father, Joseph Cavnow, had been a curator there. On several occasions she had seen the library’s Visconti Tarot Deck, also called the Cary-Yale Tarot Deck after the collector who donated them. Were Ionna’s cards tarot cards?

Here she was heading right toward the Visconti Deck, and she was beginning to sense that it wasn’t an accident.

When the train arrived, she decided not to tell her mother she was in town just yet. First she needed to stop by the library to see the duke’s cards.

* * *

The Beinecke Library’s unusual architecture gave the illusion that it hovered in the air. Strategically placed pyramid columns raised the building off the ground, and instead of windows, opaque marble shielded the sunlight, changing colors throughout the day. The effect always made the library seem alive. Growing up, Semele had called it “the magic square.”

When she walked inside, the marble was glowing like citrine clouds. The towering walls of books rose six stories like a benevolent giant, greeting her like an old friend.

A rush of emotions hit her and tears prickled her eyes. She hadn’t been in this building for years, and still it felt like home. Of all the libraries she visited through the years—and she had been to many—Beinecke remained the most special. Her childhood was wrapped around this building. One of her first memories was of playing with her mother in the courtyard while they waited for her father to be done for the day.

She couldn’t help noticing the parallels between her life and Ionna’s. They were both daughters of librarians, men deeply read in history, literature, and philosophy, who oversaw the largest ancient manuscript libraries in the world. Librarians had served as guardians of the written word throughout the ages, and Semele grew up witnessing her father’s devotion. To her, he was as noble as a knight. Like Ionna’s, her childhood was filled with countless hours in the library, where she would look at the exhibits while her father worked. She had gotten her undergraduate degree in Classics at Yale and she had spent many an hour researching papers in the Beinecke’s reading room. Ionna and her story had brought her back.

Semele approached the information desk, hoping Thomas was in today. She needed a favor. Thomas was the head conservator and the only staff member she could ask. He had worked with her father for years and been a pallbearer at his funeral.

The person behind the desk called his office, and Semele was relieved to learn that he was there. A guard directed her to the lockers and coatracks, where she checked her personal belongings.

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