The 78, card by card
what each one shows
You draw a card, and nothing comes. It happens, especially early on — and going off to look the meaning up online takes you out of the game to hand you a fortune-teller’s catalogue that knows nothing about your Scenethe unit of play: you open it, you play it, you close it.part 3. These pages are here for that, and for nothing else: a picture described, and the matter it offers.
They do not tell you what a card means. They tell you what is in it — because a picture looked at gives you more than a word learned by heart — and then something to carry into your world. Take it if it Suits (the four)Wands/Fire, what cannot wait · Cups/Water, what comes back · Swords/Air, the line that separates · Pentacles/Earth, what remains. They say a card’s matter, and how you acted.part 4 you; leave it if your scene calls for something else. You are never checking an answer.
(The pictures described are the Rider-Waite-Smith ones, the Decka single pack of 78 cards, majors and minors mixed, reshuffled at the opening of every scene.part 2 part 2 recommends. If yours is another, the picture differs: look at your own, it is always right against this book.)
◆ The majors
Section titled “◆ The majors”A Major Arcanumone of the twenty-two named cards, from The Fool to The World. It does not answer: it names, and it weighs.parts 2, 4, 6 does not tint a scene, it bears down on it. When it falls at the Opening (the)the gesture that begins every scene: three cards, you keep one, you give up the other two. The only draw where choosing costs, and the only door of fate.part 3, it is the door Fatewhat comes in when you keep a major at the opening, and by no other door: the moment stops being ordinary. What it closes, only it can open.part 6 comes through; anywhere else, it is charged matter. What follows holds for both — but remember that a major taken at the opening reads as a Desirewhat your character wants. No mechanism, no count: it orients what you play.part 11 against a resistance (part 6), and these pages give the matter, not the resistance.
The Fool
A wanderer walks at the edge of a drop, eyes on the sky, his bundle over his shoulder; a small dog leaps at his legs.
Setting out without knowing where. The innocence that has not yet measured what it risks.
The Magician
A man, one hand raised to the sky and the other to the earth; the four tools laid out on the Table (the)the surface in front of you: the cards drawn stay in view on it for the length of the scene.parts 2, 7 before him.
Everything is there, it only remains to use it. The beginning of someone who knows how.
The High Priestess
A woman seated between two pillars, a book half hidden under her mantle, a veil drawn behind her.
What is known without being said. Someone who keeps, and will not hand over all of it.
The Empress
A woman crowned with stars, settled among cushions, a field of ripe wheat at her feet.
Abundance that needs no forcing. What grows without anyone pushing at it.
The Emperor
A man on a stone throne, rams carved at its corners, bare mountains behind him.
The order that holds because someone holds it. The law, and the one who speaks it.
The Hierophant
A figure seated between two pillars, hand raised; two men kneel and listen.
The rule handed down, the institution. What you learn from someone rather than from yourself.
The Lovers
A man and a woman beneath an immense angel; behind them, a tree in flames and a tree with a serpent.
A choice that binds more than it looks. The Bondwhat an actor seems to expect of you, written on the standing page and never crossed out: you stack, you do not correct.part 7, and what must be left in order to have it.
The Chariot
A man stands in a chariot, two sphinxes harnessed before him, one white, one black — and no reins.
Going forward while holding two contrary forces. The will that gets through, with nothing to make it safe.
Strength
A woman gently closes a lion’s jaws, with no visible effort, a wreath of flowers on her head.
Mastery that does not brutalize. What you get from a beast by not fighting it.
The Hermit
An old man on a summit, a lantern held out into the night, leaning on his staff.
Withdrawing in order to see. A small light, carried alone, that lights one step and no more.
Wheel of Fortune
A wheel in the sky, figures rising on one side and falling on the other, a sphinx seated at the top.
What turns without asking your opinion. The moment tips, and there is nobody to blame.
Justice
A seated figure, the sword upright in one hand, the scales in the other, between two pillars.
What is weighed and settled. The exact consequence, no gentler and no harder than it should be.
The Hanged Man
A man hangs by one foot, head down, his face untroubled — he is not struggling.
The Waitan open question that nobody else is looking into: it belongs to you, it ripens, it has the right never to close.part 8 chosen, the view turned over: what you see once you stop forcing.
Death
A rider in black armor advances under a white banner; a king has fallen, a child holds out flowers.
What ends and will not start again. The passage, which takes without negotiating.
Temperance
An angel pours water from one cup into the other, one foot on the bank, one in the water.
The measure, the slowness that succeeds where haste breaks things. Two things made to hold together.
The Devil
A horned figure on its block; below, two humans in chains — the chains are loose, they could step out.
What holds because you consent to it. The tie you call a constraint and have no wish to undo.
The Tower
Lightning strikes the crown off a tower; two bodies fall into the void, a crown with them.
What collapses at a stroke and will not be rebuilt. The fact, brutal, before anyone could get ready for it.
The Star
A naked woman pours two pitchers, one into the pool, one onto the earth, beneath a great star.
The calm after the worst. What you give without counting because you have something again.
The Moon
A dog and a wolf howl at the moon; between two towers a path runs off into the distance, a crayfish crawls from the water.
What you think you see in the dark. Unease, doubt, what comes back up uncalled.
The Sun
A naked child on a white horse, banner in the wind, before a wall of sunflowers, under a sun with a face.
Clarity with nothing held back. What is finally said, seen, shown in broad daylight.
Judgment
An angel sounds a trumpet; below, the dead rise from their coffins, arms open.
The call you answer. What comes back from far off to ask for an account — or to offer a second time.
The World
A figure dances inside a laurel wreath, a wand in each hand; four faces at the four corners.
The circle closing. What is accomplished, and can at last be looked at from a distance.
◆ Wands — Fire
Section titled “◆ Wands — Fire”Impulse, desire, what pushes and what burns. A Wands card speaks of energy: an ambition, an ardent conflict, a wanting that cannot keep still.
Ace of Wands
A hand out of a cloud holds a wand still putting out leaves.
A wanting just born. The chance offered, before anything has been decided about it.
Two of Wands
A man on a rampart holds a globe and looks out to sea; one wand is fixed to the wall, the other in his hand.
The world seen from above, and the step not yet taken. Choosing between staying and going.
Three of Wands
A man seen from behind watches ships leave the coast, three wands planted around him.
What you have launched and that sails without you. Waiting for a return, the horizon opening.
Four of Wands
Four wands hold up a garland; two figures raise bouquets, a castle behind them.
The celebration, the welcome, the threshold crossed together. A rest held and earned.
Five of Wands
Five young men brandish their wands, without order — you cannot tell who is fighting whom.
The scuffle with no clear Stakean open question on which somebody else is making progress: it does not forget itself, and it does not ripen on its own.parts 8, 10. Rivalry at its most confused, everyone pulling their own way.
Six of Wands
A rider crowned with laurel, his wand wreathed, surrounded by walkers escorting him.
Victory acknowledged, carried in front of others. What puts you forward — and exposes you.
Seven of Wands
A man on higher ground holds six wands off, firmly planted, one foot lower than the other.
Holding your ground against several. The defense of a place that took a long time to win.
Eight of Wands
Eight wands fly through a clear sky, on the diagonal, with nothing to stop them.
What arrives fast and from far off: news, a message, a thing already on its way to you.
Nine of Wands
A man with a bandaged head leans on his wand and watches; eight more stand behind him like a palisade.
The watchfulness of someone who has already taken blows. Holding on, tired, because it must be done.
Ten of Wands
A man bent double carries ten wands in a bundle, his face hidden; the village is very close.
The load you have taken onto your own back. Almost there, and too laden to look up.
Page of Wands
A young man plants his wand in front of him and looks at it, as if discovering what he is holding.
Someone starting out, full of drive. News that sets something alight, or the one who brings it.
Knight of Wands
A rider rears his horse, plume in the wind, wand in hand, in a desert.
Someone who charges without looking. The hasty departure, the adventure that will not be explained.
Queen of Wands
A woman seated, a flowering wand in one hand, a sunflower in the other; a black cat at her feet.
Someone followed without ever Raising (the)the world scene by which a stirring is raised, far from your character.part 10 their voice. The warmth that gathers people, and the eye that judges.
King of Wands
A man seated at three-quarters, his wand firmly held, salamanders embroidered on his cloak.
Someone who decides and carries others along. Authority that comes from drive, not from title.
◆ Cups — Water
Section titled “◆ Cups — Water”Emotion, the bond, dreaming, what flows between beings. A Cups card touches the heart: a relationship, a joy or a grief, what is felt and not said.
Ace of Cups
A hand holds out a cup overflowing in five streams; a dove descends into it, a wafer in its beak.
A feeling that spills over before it has been named. What is offered, and still has to be accepted.
Two of Cups
A man and a woman exchange their cups; above them, a caduceus and a winged lion’s head.
The pact of two. The meeting that binds, the agreement sealed by looking at each other.
Three of Cups
Three women raise their cups in a ring, among ripe fruit.
Joy shared between several. A reunion, the small company that rejoices.
Four of Cups
A man sits under a tree, arms folded, ignoring the cup a hand holds out to him; three others stand before him.
What you refuse to see because you are sulking. The weariness that lets an offer pass.
Five of Cups
A figure in a black cloak weeps over three spilled cups; two stand behind, and a bridge Leada scene declared to make a wait or a stake move: no new gesture, only the intention changes.part 8 to the castle.
Grief taking up the whole of the view. What is left, and not yet seen.
Six of Cups
A child holds out a flowering cup to a smaller one, in a quiet courtyard.
What comes back from childhood or from before: a place seen again, an old kindness, someone found again.
Seven of Cups
Seven cups float in a haze, laden with visions: a face, a jewel, a dragon, a shroud.
Too many possibilities, all of them tempting. The dream that stops you choosing, or the mirage.
Eight of Cups
A man walks off toward the mountains, leaning on a staff, leaving eight stacked cups behind him under a moon.
Leaving what is perfectly good. Giving up what no longer suffices, without drama.
Nine of Cups
A satisfied man, arms folded, seated before nine cups ranged on a draped sideboard.
The contentment you can show. The wish granted — and the slightly smug ease that goes with it.
Ten of Cups
A couple with arms raised, two children dancing, ten cups arched like a rainbow over the house.
Happiness that stands up because several people hold it. What you have built and look at laughing.
Page of Cups
A young man in a flowered tunic looks at a fish rising out of his cup.
News of the heart, a gentle proposal. The imagination that takes the absurd seriously.
Knight of Cups
A rider comes at a walk, winged helm and heels, presenting his cup before him.
Someone coming to offer. The invitation, the declaration, the slow and careful approach.
Queen of Cups
A woman on a throne at the sea’s edge, absorbed in a closed cup, worked like a reliquary.
Someone who feels everything and says none of it. Depth that listens, and guesses.
King of Cups
A man thrones on a rough sea, cup in hand, a fish leaping near him — and he does not move.
Someone who holds their feelings without denying them. Calm in the middle of what is churning.
◆ Swords — Air
Section titled “◆ Swords — Air”Thought, speech, clarity — but also conflict and the truth that cuts. A Swords card cuts through: a decision, a lucidity, sometimes a wound made of words.
Ace of Swords
A hand out of a cloud holds an upright sword, crowned, a palm and a branch hanging from it.
The idea that pierces. The truth said at a stroke, and not to be taken back.
Two of Swords
A blindfolded woman holds two crossed swords against her chest, seated with her back to the sea.
The refusal to settle it. Balance held by not looking.
Three of Swords
Three swords pierce a heart, under rain and cloud.
The clean wound, with no mystery to it. What hurts because it was true.
Four of Swords
A stone effigy, hands joined, one sword beneath it and three on the wall; a stained-glass window lights the chapel.
Withdrawal, convalescence. The pause taken before you can begin again.
Five of Swords
A man gathers up the fallen swords, a smirk on his face; two figures walk away, already far off.
Winning by damaging. What you carry off, and what you leave behind.
Six of Swords
A ferryman Poles (the two)the two worlds you set down yourself before tossing the coin: never a yes and an empty space.part 1 a boat carrying a woman and a child; six swords are planted in the hull.
The crossing toward calmer water. Leaving, and taking what wounded you along.
Seven of Swords
A man tiptoes away from a camp, five swords in his arms, two left standing.
Cunning, the sidestep, what you carry off without saying. Half succeeding, and knowing it.
Eight of Swords
A woman bound and blindfolded, ringed by eight planted swords — but the ground ahead of her is clear.
The prison you believe is shut. What holds you as long as you have not tried walking.
Nine of Swords
Someone sits up in bed, face in their hands; nine swords are ranged in the dark.
The night’s dread, which makes everything larger. Fear that has not yet met daylight.
Ten of Swords
A man face down, ten swords in his back, under a black sky torn open by a dawn.
The bottom, reached without ambiguity. It is over, and there is nothing left to make worse.
Page of Swords
A young man on a rise, sword held high, turned to look behind him, hair in the wind.
Someone who watches and reports. Quick curiosity, the eye that lingers where it should not.
Knight of Swords
A rider charges at full tilt, sword out, in a sky full of wind.
Someone who arrives like a blade. The brutal decision, the attack that gives no warning.
Queen of Swords
A woman seated, sword upright, one hand open, seen in profile, clouds beneath her throne.
Someone who has paid for their lucidity. Plain judgement, without indulgence and without cruelty.
King of Swords
A man thrones face on, his sword slightly tilted, two butterflies carved into the back of the seat.
Someone who judges and will not be moved. The authority of the law and of the exact word.
◆ Pentacles — Earth
Section titled “◆ Pentacles — Earth”The body, matter, money, work, what lasts. A Pentacles card Anchor (to)to enter an actor on the standing page: not for what he is, for what he wants.part 7: a place, a trade, a wealth or a lack, the slow construction of things.
Ace of Pentacles
A hand holds out a pentacle above a walled garden; an arch of flowers opens onto the mountains.
What is offered and will hold. The concrete resource, right at the start.
Two of Pentacles
A juggler turns two pentacles inside a ribbon shaped like a figure of eight; behind him, two ships on the swell.
Holding two things at once, and dancing while you do. The balance that works as long as you do not stop.
Three of Pentacles
A craftsman on a stool shows his work to two people holding a plan, inside an abbey.
Work recognized by those who know. Skill put in common.
Four of Pentacles
A crowned man clutches a pentacle to him, one under each foot, one on his head; the town is behind him.
What you keep until it stiffens you. The security that stops you moving.
Five of Pentacles
Two beggars pass through the snow beneath a lit window — one limps, the other walks barefoot.
Destitution, and the shelter right beside it that goes unseen. Being outside while others are in.
Six of Pentacles
A merchant holds a balance and lets Cointhe oracle of closed questions: heads the first pole, tails the second. It never resolves an action.part 1 fall into the hands of two kneeling beggars.
The gift that comes from above. Receiving in dependence, or giving by weight.
Seven of Pentacles
A man leans on his hoe and looks at a bush laden with seven pentacles, without picking them.
The pause in the work. What is still growing, and the impatience of the one who waits.
Eight of Pentacles
A craftsman strikes a pentacle at his bench; six already hang on the post, one waits at his feet.
The trade acquired by dint of doing it. Patient repetition, and the pleasure it ends up giving.
Nine of Pentacles
A richly dressed woman in a vineyard, a hooded falcon on her gloved hand.
What you owe nobody for. The quiet luxury of someone self-made.
Ten of Pentacles
An old man and his dogs under an archway, a couple, a child; ten pentacles trace a tree over the scene.
What is handed on and outlasts you. The house, the line, the inheritance.
Page of Pentacles
A young man in a field holds a pentacle up at eye level, absorbed.
Someone learning by looking. The first coin, the study, the concrete offer being examined.
Knight of Pentacles
A rider sits still on a plough horse, a pentacle on his open hand, before a turned field.
Someone advancing without hurrying. The constancy that will arrive exactly when it arrives.
Queen of Pentacles
A woman seated in greenery holds a pentacle on her knees, the way you hold a sleeping animal.
Someone who makes things grow, who feeds, who keeps a place. Concrete abundance, held without meanness.
King of Pentacles
A man thrones among vines, a pentacle in the crook of his arm, bulls carved beside him, a castle behind.
Someone who owns and makes it bear fruit. Success settled in, with nothing left to prove.