The Fool found himself at the feet of an elaborately-dressed Asian woman. She sat on a gold bench draped with silk and her crown was an ornate and dazzling display of wealth. To her right, large tall sunflowers bowed ever so slightly towards her. She looked at the Fool with a stern and critical stare.
I am the Queen of Wands, Fool, the Queen said with a flip of her hand. You are here to be suited with your celestial tasks. I have no patience for your space brain and wanderlust. I just want obedience and to trust you to do your job.
The Fool felt himself bow until his nose almost touched the rug. He also felt his old bones creak and crack. He didn’t want to serve any queen; he wanted to rest for an eternity.
You have rested enough, the Queen said. You have taken enough time for your self-care and wanders.
The Fool was surprised by this statement. He thought that self-care was important and needed.
It is time to do for others, the Queen continued. You are a tool of hope and a messenger.
The Queen stood up and floated across the tiled room towards an enormous columned balcony that overlooked a city. The Fool recognized the tower of the Hierophant not far off in the distance. Swirling around the tower was a tornado of small songbirds, swifts. Around the bottom, the swifts were many, but their number thinned out towards the top. He could hear them chirp in quick, repetitive staccato.
The Queen and the Fool watched the birds for a while. The sun was low on the horizon behind the tower, making everything before them a silhouette. The swifts became black dashes in the orange and dark-blue sky. The chill of evening settled on the Fool’s shoulders.
Just then, a peregrine falcon dove from the sky above, taking one of the swifts in its talons and swooping to a lower roof to enjoy its meal. The quick violence of the raptor shook the Fool. He felt helpless as the swift became sustenance for the small falcon.
The swifts do almost everything on the wing, the Queen said. They eat, mate, and sleep in flight. They only stop to lay their eggs and feed their young, and that is done in short stops in hollow trees or hollow towers.
They eat like whales, the Queen continued. They swallow insects and spiders that float up from the ground in the evening air.
The swifts further up are sleeping, the Queen said, but always on the move. Slowing down is death for them. For them, to land on the ground is to never fly again.
There were so many swifts in the vortex above the tower – thousands, probably. They stayed in a constant state of flight. The Fool could see some diving into the tower and minutes later flying back up to the flock. The peregrine falcon stayed perched on the roof, satisfied with its meal, probably just biding its time until it felt hungry again. While most predators took the weak, this falcon only took the unlucky.
The sunset and the darkness set in. Bats began flapping sporadically around, clearing the air of flying insects. The Fool could no longer see the swifts. Lights started lighting up in the houses and buildings below, including in the Hierophant’s tower.
The Queen floated back to her throne. Go now, Fool, she said, sitting down. Go back to your journey.
The Fool walked down the dark boulevards of the town, past the open windows that let in the cool summer breeze. He saw people eating dinner and could hear the clanking of plates and glasses. He could smell the cooking of meat. He could smell the flowers that hung from the baskets that hung along the road. He was on his way.