I asked how our part of things would go. I asked for two cards: one to show the most important problem we might face, a second to show the final outcome. In this context the Five of Coins says that something is unsettling and worrying. The foundations of what we’re doing aren’t quite right somehow. But the Six of Swords, that looks good. It says that our little trip will be successful, but we may encounter some unforeseen difficulty. It’s all right, though,” he continued, catching her look of uncertainty.

“I’ve just asked about Serrin. The Magician, of course. He’s doing what he’s good at. We’ve got no problems there. Since it’s his own personal symbol in the deck, it also tells me this reading is working. I was just about to ask about Rani, how she’s going to figure in what we decide to do next.” He turned the next card face-up.

Francesca whistled in admiration. “Oh, that’s a fabulous design.” A great red and silver rod stood strong against an azure background, with a glaring sun at one end and a crescent moon encompassing a darker blue sphere at the other. Crisscrossed behind the rod stood eight arrows, red-shafted, with silver fletching and silver crescent moons for arrowheads.

Geraint nodded gravely. “Nine of Wands. Strength. Looks like she won’t let us down.”

“Strength? Isn’t there another card called that? The one with the woman and the lion? Haven’t I seen that?”

“Yes, but this card was given the same title by the original designer of the deck. Different meaning, too. Maybe he ran a bit short on names after a while. Nine of Wands says final success, a moment of glory.” He felt a little uncertain. The card was a good omen, pure and simple; it was powerful, radiant, victorious.

Geraini felt a sudden twinge in the left side of his brain, urging him to see something else in that card, something related to him. His own response to it. He flipped up a final card.

The Hanged Man.

Ankh and wise serpent at his feet, the dancing, swaying figure was head-down on the card, an inversion that caught Francesca unawares, as it did most people the first time.

“Hmm. Looks like I have something to learn about her. I won’t find out by making any effort, either. It'll come in its own good time.” He drew the cards back into the deck, shuffled it once, then swathed the deck in its black silk.

“Time to go, Francesca. You ready?”

Geraint remembered the Hanged Man as they checked in at the Imperial, or rather the Hanged Man nagged at his own mind. He put it out of his consciousness as he limped to the elevator, Francesca taking the magkeys and walking imperiously before the baggage-trundling porter. No sooner had they arrived at their suite and shut the door than Geraint was tapping a number into the telecom.

“Russell? Great. We’re here now.” On the way here he’d used the car’s portacom to make a provisional appointrnent. “When can you fit me in?”

The cheerful, fresh-faced man on the screen looked down at something on his desk and waved nonchalantly. “Let me see. Old churn, helped us with the Mitsuyama grants two years back, never comes up to a college feast with me, might have run off with my wife if I hadn't been such an attentive husband… oh, how about next March?”

“Russell, what do you mean? Amanda’s far too good for me. And the last college feast I came to gave me food poisoning.” Francesca glanced at Geraint joking at the face on the screen and decided to take a shower.

“Oh yes, nice little strain of salmonella that one. Half of Oxford was down with it for a week or two. Well, Geraint, how about seven this evening? Come round to the Radcliffe, old boy. I should still be sober then.”

By the time Francesca had showered and changed, Geraint had his evening arranged. Seven o’clock at Oxford’s famous infirmary, nine o’clock at the research laboratories of the Biotechnology Department complex. That took care of both Geraint’s leg and the pharmacological helpers he needed, and in that order. Francesca began setting up the Fuchi decks, attending to the most important part of their business.

They worked in virtual silence for half an hour, reconfiguring the decks to change the ID chips installed by the Lord Protector’s officials. It wasn’t desperately difficult, but it was delicate. Any mistake would set off an alert that would scream its way to the local Administrative Bureau, calling officialdom down on their heads in a matter of minutes. With all that done, they demolished the first pot of coffee.

The next pot was sunk as they planned the general tactics of their hit on Transys Neuronet’s London system. Francesca had the SAN number, so they knew where to get in. In broad terms they also knew what they wanted to get at. The problem was figuring out how to deal with what stood in their way. After half an hour of discussion they’d sketched out a plan.

This was Francesca’s specialty, so she took the reins.

We’ll use evasion mode as long as possible and your smartframe to deal with any IC. If the system alerts, our reaction depends on where we are at the time. If we’re into the storage systems, you switch to bod mode and fight like hell while I go to sensor mode and get as much as I can. I’ll use a dumbframe to handle it if I can program it fast enough. That way we’ll have a few extra seconds if we have to fight when we get close to what we’re looking for. Stay together at all times and put the emphasis on system analysis while we’re getting into the damn thing. I think my sleaze program is powerful enough to get us through the system’s access and barrier defenses. We’ll just have to use scrambling IC for the decrypt programs. Right?”

Francesca was in her element now, scribbling down notes at a furious pace, already high on the anticipation of the run. She had a look of utter determination on her face, a look that made Geraint ruefully reflect that he didn’t see how his careful, cautious Hermit would be able to hold off her Princess of Swords if they had to change plans halfway through.

“Sounds good. The question now is, what do we want to do about our Matrix personas’?”

It was a crucial question. They knew the Transys Neuronet system would have a sculptured Matrix, an individually designed set of icons and representations that would try to force its own reality on to them. Unfamiliarity with it would make their mental operations slower, unable to react in a split-second if necessary. That obviously gave their enemies within the system-both the IC and the corporate deckers-just the slightest edge in combat. What to do about it was the question.

“I don’t think I want to use your filter, Geraint. I know it’ll help, but I won’t be able to get used to it fast enough. Trying to operate with an unfamiliar filter against a sculptured system would only double my handicap.”

Geraint had a reality filter, which was what deckers laughingly called the powerful representational program. It allowed him to see any Matrix constructs through his own selected set of images, which consisted of knights, warriors, warhorses, the Wild Hunt, and the whole panoply of Welsh and Celtic heritage. The filter balanced some of the disadvantage of being in an unfamiliar system, giving him an edge that the sculptured system might not be able to overcome, It would be an interesting struggle between his filter system and the power of Transys Neuronet’s system sculpture. Francesca, however, wouldn’t have the same advantage.

“Well, we’ve got to have representations of each other within our own systems when we travel together, and we need ones that aren’t out of sync with the Transys sculpture. That way. it’s all smooth, and neither of us has a major disadvantage.” He sighed. “Trouble is, even if that works I’ll be seeing them differently from the way you do. You’ll see black IC in their terms, probably, and I’ll see it as a hostile knight or chimera or some such, if I’m lucky.” Then something dawned on him.