- 8/wands (R)
- 9/wands (R)
- The Tower (R)
- 2/wands (R)
- The Chariot (R)
A terribly blustery and totally insistent wind tried with all its unearthly might to knock the man’s top hat from his head. In spite of the dubious position of the Top Hat Man, he managed to not only hang onto his hat, but also to each and every individual represented by his nine wands as well. He kept them all in line, he did, with the help of his wicked vengeful assistant, with her sharp-eyed observations and her vicious little tongue. He had them all in his pocket, so he thought, he had so much on each and every one, what could they do, after all.
The man at the end of the harbor, sitting in dull solitude with his private thoughts and regrets, watched The Top Hat Man in apathetic silence. He was too distanced from real life and action, and he was too disillusioned by his own catastrophes to give any comment, or make any movement to join the evil pair in their foray. All he could do was hang on to his one familiar wand, afraid to let go, afraid to lose something, afraid to move on. He sat as an eternal statue between the greatest calamity of his life and the greatest opportunity of his life, which was swiftly passing him by, galloping off towards better prospects.
And all this time, the cunning red-headed princess held her position, motionless as a statue, her sword raised and readied. Prepared she was, to swing the deadly blow. Though it appears that the gentlemen were the center of the story, the potential catalyst of this tale, this was not so.
She bided her time, patience was her virtue.