“You got a card missing,” said Tally.

“What?” I said. “No I don’t.”

“Do too,” said Tally. “I’ve watched you flip through that deck about a dozen times, and I tell you there’s one card missing.”

Then I knew it. I hadn’t seen the Red Bride anywhere. She was the most powerful card in the whole game. She could evoke Oration so mighty whole duels turned whenever she popped up. But the Red Bride was being shy right now. I shuffled through the deck twice. No matter how many times I flipped the cards, she just wasn’t there.

“Hold up a minute,” said Tally. She wiggled her fingers over the cards and then went stiff with them, like each one was a separate magic wand. Then she snatched a card from the middle of the deck.

“Gotcha!” she said. “Now hold still, ain’t any use in getting away now.”

The Red Bride was there all right, her gown gone a dark blood crimson, might and power in her eyes, like she didn’t need nobody else, like she could maybe marry lightning or maybe a house on fire, but anything else would be too weak, too tame for her. I’d always been a bit in awe of the Red Bride myself.

But something seemed a little off about her now. Her gown hung limp and the spark was out of her eyes, her shoulders sagged. Worst of all, there was a long black scar over the card, as if someone had lit it on fire. I ran my hand over it, but it was smooth. The scar was something deep in the magic of the card.

Tally whistled.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t understand. What does that mean? Why’s the card all messed up?”

“It means your daddy played a Parsnit duel,” said Tally, “a long fearsome terrible one.” She looked up at me, eyes dark and black and blinking. “And he lost.”

“He lost?”

I couldn’t hardly believe it. My daddy losing at Parsnit? It just didn’t happen.

“Yep.”

The Red Bride seemed about to burst into tears so I slid her back in the deck, so she could be alone again.

“Could that be the source of my hex? All my problems?” I said.

“It’s possible,” said Tally. “I’m no witch, but I’ve known a fair share of them. From what I gather, magic ain’t an exact science. It’s approximate at best. You send your dust out in the world, say a spell or two, and watch the threads of fate tangle. Sometimes they tangle in your favor. Who can say how magic works, or how it doesn’t?”

“Lot of help that does me,” I said.

“Since you’re all healed up,” she said, “how about you take a turn rowing.”

“Fine, fine,” I said. “But it’d be a heck of a lot easier if I wasn’t so durn hungry.”

Tally grinned at me then, a little spider-fanged smile. She let her spit dangle down and twirled it with her fingers, same as she did when she gave me the remedy. Except it was spooling differently this time, becoming a slender, taut thread between her fingers, almost translucent. I could only see it when the sun hit it just right.