Story about the Emperors tarrot

In the darkened chamber, it's ancient walls shrouded by old tapestries, the wizened old seer sat behind a large stone table, awaiting his audience. Glow candles illumulated the yellow smoke of incence burners. The cloying vapours of sacred herbs lay heavily across the chamber as his pattrons arrived, a silent procession of five men, all dressed in the long ornate robes of Ministorum. Pontifex-Urba spoke first.

"The cards are prepared, anoited with oils, thrice blessed before the image of Him on Earth, as you required. Make your reading." He passed a deck of cards, wraped in silken cloth , to the old man who carefully suffled them. Each card was a beauitifully worked wafer-thin sliver of crystal. The Pontifex and his aides took their seats around the stone table.

First the seer took the card of the High Priest. The image was one of a robed figure carying a hammer and a book, the picture's face changed to that of the Pontifex himself. The seer placed it face up. "Your tailsman I presume." It was common practice for for high-ranking members of the Ecclesiarchy to take this card as their signifier, the tailsman card for whom the reading was made.

The seer's breathing became rhythmic as he attuned his sences, then with careful precision the old man laid out seven cards on the table. Two inside a circle of five. The reading proper had begun.

In a trance he addressed to onlookers. "We stand alone in the universe and seek the path of wisdom. Each card has it's cosmic meaning, for humanity, for this world and for each individual present." The old seer began the reading with a prayer.

"I invoke the, beloved Emperor. Infuse these cards that I may attain a true insight of things hidden, to thy greater glory and the salvation of humanity." He turned the cards, one by one, studing the changing face of each one as he did. Finally he spoke.

"Your true self, the heretic, but inverted."The Pontifex drew a sharp breath and shuffled uneasily in his seat at the implications. The others looked un settled too. "Do not judge the cards untill all is revealed", warned the old seer. He turned the next card.

"Your percieved self, the Kraken. The two cards of Discordia arcania lying together..." the seer pronunced wearily. Discordia, the Arcania of threats and enemnies, around the table suspisions were further aroused and nervous glances exchanged. The Pontifex had recently preached against the dangers of idolatly in the light of the worshiping of four armed gods by Thalla's native tribesman. Yet still the Emperor was trying to warn those present. Beneath the table, the seer secretly eased off the safty catch on his laspistol...

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Extract from White Dwalf 210
this story copyright Games Workshop