The cards are interesting things, but it's the confidence Childermass handles the with that is arresting, a focus intense enough that Lambert really can believe he's a magician after all. For all that he says he doesn't care to be called an oracle, Lambert doesn't know what else would fit the obvious ritual these cards seem to possess, and the magic that gathers around it. It's thin, but it's enough for his medallion to vibrate as he begins laying them down.

None of the illustrations are familiar, but he can guess at some of the symbolism, and he'll watch silently when Childermass frowns and reshuffles. When he lays them out again, exactly the same spread as before, Lambert reaches out, taps the table just above the Devil without actually touching the card itself.

"This, here. What does this mean?" It's obviously the one that's bothering him, so he'll not bother to ask about any of the others.