“Yes,” Niobe agreed sadly. “And Chronos is a good person. But I’ll always love Cedric.”
“There is no love like the first,” Lachesis agreed, taking over the lips again. “I remember mine...” And she recounted her own first romance. It was not as immediate as Niobe’s experience, but it had its own poignancy, and it did show that the older woman understood. Men tended to think in terms of the physical, while woman related to the social; men focused on bodies and action, while women focused on character and feeling. They agreed that woman’s way was more sensible, but on occasion man’s way had merit, and it was possible for the two to relate.
They learned each other’s jobs, to a certain extent. Niobe normally slept while Lachesis measured the threads, but not always, and of course she was alert while Atropos cut them. The cutting was not merely at the terminal end; the threads had to be started, too. So after Lachesis had analyzed, measured, and marked each potential life, on the endless thread Clotho spun, Atropos would cut and place it. The beginning of a cut thread was the conception of a baby; it had to be tied in to the threads of its parents before moving out onto its own course in the Tapestry. The physical, mental, and emotional qualities of a life were determined by heredity, provided by the parental tie-in, and its development was influenced considerably by environment. But its circumstance—the odd coincidences that governed every life—was arranged by Fate. Some excellently endowed lives were doomed to disappointment and failure, while some seemingly weak strands were destined for greatness. Lachesis planned these threads with an eye to the esthetics of the larger picture. Some she regretted, as when a thread had to be measured short, meaning that a child would die. But it had to be done, for stresses in the fabric of the Tapestry could distort the whole, and lead to the damage of many more innocent threads unless the correction was made in the key region. It would not have been easy to explain to the average mortal why he should suffer, as the stresses were cumulative and subtle; indeed, there were generally several ways in which a given stress could be alleviated. But it was Lachesis’ job to select a course and implement it, and this she did.
Cedric’s early death had not really been Lachesis’ doing. Satan had stretched the fabric in such a way that only the truncation of a specific thread would alleviate it—and Niobe had been that thread until Cedric abruptly switched places with her. Lachesis had had to mark it for elimination, and Atropos had had to cut it—but that had been in the nature of emergency surgery. They were still adjusting for the distortion in the fabric caused by that unscheduled removal; it tended to buckle, and several more distant threads had had to be cut short, and new ones added elsewhere. Now Niobe, tracing the pattern and grasping the stresses on it, understood how complex the matter of Fate was. Fate was not all-powerful or capricious; she merely had to accomplish a purpose that mortal man was not properly equipped to appreciate. It would make as much sense for an individual soldier in battle to break ranks and demand of the general why he should be subjected to this danger.
But Niobe was no longer a foot soldier. She had become an Aspect of an Incarnation. She was now in a position to grasp the larger picture—and to understand just what Satan had done to her. She still had a score to settle with him!
The problem was, she didn’t see how. Satan had no Tapestry; she could not mess up his threads. She concluded that whatever it was that made Satan object to her presence as Clotho had not yet manifested and that she was on the way to gaining her satisfaction merely by retaining her office. Eventually her chance would come— and then she would take it with a will. Meanwhile, she just had to be patient.
In due course the routine became dull. Then the interactions with the other Incarnations, including Satan, became more interesting. Niobe did not love Chronos, but he was so grateful for the particular favors she rendered that it became a kind of pleasure for her. She did have to work with him quite a bit, or rather Lachesis did, for only Chronos could accurately locate the timing of the key events in each life—the kinks in each thread. The Tapestry would not be right if the threads were too loose or tight, or crossed each other in the wrong places. It was especially important that Atropos inform Chronos of the precise end of each thread, for Chronos programmed the watch that Thanatos carried. If Thanatos was not present for particular terminations—the souls in close balance between good and evil—those souls could escape and drift back to the Void, causing the whole effort to be wasted. No one approved of wasted lives.
But this, too, became dull. Therefore the Aspects of Fate were wont to visit the mortals directly when slacktime was available. They would merge anonymously with the throngs of people, and pretend to be going home from work, or taking a vacation, or performing some business. People tended not to perceive the Incarnations as such, and to forget them, so it was simple enough to do. Each Aspect had her favorite region of the mortal world to visit. It was a kind of holiday.
Lachesis liked to go to special restaurants and enjoy good meals. The Incarnations did have natural functions, including the need to eat. If they did not eat, they would not starve, because of their immortality, but they would become increasingly uncomfortable. They had everything provided in Purgatory, but there was something special about doing it among the mortals. The male Incarnations, Lachesis confided wickedly, sometimes indulged other appetites with mortal women, though they had to be careful not to change the lie of any particular thread. An Incarnation could not sire a baby, because of the freeze on aging—a baby would never develop beyond the singlecell stage—but that was not the only way to affect a mortal. Once Mars had formed a relationship with a mortal Amazon—he had a weakness for violent women—and her thread had changed its course. This affair superseded one she would otherwise have had with a mortal man that would have generated offspring. Lachesis had had to bail him out; she had measured that thread but found no way to attach it to start the baby. The necessary interaction had not taken place. She had spoken sharply to Mars about that, requiring him to break off the affair so that the natural order could reassert itself; then she had tied in the new thread a little farther down the line. Clotho had had to sweeten the pot for Mars until he found a new mortal to dally with. It was a private scandal.
Atropos preferred to go to orchestral recitals, operas, and plays. Indeed, she had a reserved box at one prominent playhouse. Niobe got to watch these too, and learned to enjoy them. In this manner she was able to acquire some culture. Once, however, a gentleman had challenged Atropos’ credentials; it seemed they had not been able to verify her social credentials and suspected she was a commoner in disguise. At this point Niobe had taken over the body, smiled, and asked the man what he meant. He blinked, for she was young and beautiful instead of old and homely; he had apologized for the confusion and departed. Atropos resumed form and watched the opera in peace.
Niobe herself went to visit her son. At first she went as she was, but she soon realized that this could not continue. For one thing, she did not age; she was locked at the physical age of twenty-three, and before long this would be noticed. Also, she did not want Junior to be accustomed to her presence; it was better that he forget her and orient entirely on his new family. It would be easier on him, in the long run. And—it was evident that young Cousin Pacian was smitten by her. This sort of thing happened with adolescents; it was a liability of beauty. She deemed it best simply to absent herself.
Still, she wanted some personal interaction with her son. So she asked Atropos to pose as a grandmotherly friend who visited relatives in the area and liked children. Atropos, with Niobe’s silent advice, cultivated the lad’s acquaintance, and in time Pace, ever on guard for any threat to his little friend’s welfare, came to accept her also. As the years passed, and Junior became an active child and Pace a tall and surprisingly handsome teenager, Atropos took them to light operas and plays of interest to all ages. Because Atropos had a wide knowledge of the form, she knew which ones were appropriate, and it worked nicely. Both boys enjoyed it, and Pace’s parents loo
ked with favor on it. Atropos herself found this to be a rewarding experience, so it was good all around.
But there was one experience that shook them all. It happened when Junior was six years old and Pace eighteen. It was the day of the annual fair, and everyone went—but the old folks soon got separated from the young folks in the press of the throng. Atropos counted as a young folk; Pace hardly needed supervision, but little Junior did, and anyway they had long been a threesome for such jaunts. They cruised the fair, trying the games of pseudo-skill, eating candy, and riding the small captive sphinx. They watched a magic show that was somewhat faked up to make the magic appear more impressive that it was, and sat through two choruses of the Nymph vs. Satyr dance. But though it was suggestive, it wasn’t potent; the participants were authentic, but in the course of a dozen shows a day they lost their ardor. Nevertheless, little Junior’s eyes almost bugged; he wasn’t supposed to be in here, but enforcement was lax and he had promised not to tell the folks. Niobe herself had grave reservations, but Atropos had pooh-poohed them: “The lad’s interested in magic, and this is an aspect of magic. It isn’t as if he’s never seen a nymph before.” Of course that was true, because of the hamadryad of the water oak.
Then they passed a prophecy booth. “Hey, tell my fortune!” Junior cried. This was magic, so he liked it. “Ah, it’s probably fake,” Pace protested.
“I can verify that, if you wish,” Atropos said.
What are you doing? Niobe thought at her. The fortuneteller will recognize you!
“Very well, let’s test her,” Pace agreed, as he liked to expose humbugs. Junior clapped his hands.
So they stopped there, and Atropos paid the seer. The woman looked at her, then proffered the return of the money. “You seek to fool me, immortal one?” she demanded. “You know I cannot read your like!”
“She’s authentic,” Atropos reported, and pushed the money back. “Do it for the two boys; they are mortal.”
“You’re immortal?” Pace asked, looking at Atropos.
“I’m old, but I won’t actually live forever.”
He wasn’t quite satisfied with that explanation, but let it pass. “Very well. Do us together, me and my little brother here.” He hefted Junior up to sit on the counter. “Who are we going to marry, and will our children be famous?”
Junior giggled at the audacity of the question, not believing that the present order would ever change, but the seer took it seriously. “Give me your hands,” she said.
She took Junior’s right hand and Pace’s left, and closed her eyes. In a moment they opened again. “Hooh!” she exclaimed, as if letting off a head of steam. “A most remarkable pair!”
Niobe became more interested. What did the seer see?
“Each to possess the most beautiful woman of her generation, who will bear him the most talented daughter of her type,” the seer intoned. “Both daughters to stand athwart the tangled skein, and one may marry Death and the other Evil.” She cast loose their hands, seeming shaken. “More I dare not say.”
Pace lifted Junior down, and they moved away from the booth. “That was a true telling?” he asked, awed.
“So it seems,” Atropos said. “Of course interpretation changes things, so it may not mean what it seems.”
“That prophecy is loaded!” he exclaimed. “The most beautiful daughter?”
The tangled skein? Niobe asked. That’s our business!
“And one may marry Death, the other Evil,” Atropos said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I like the smell of that.”
Niobe had similar doubts. Death is Thanatos, and Evil is Satan. Their daughters will marry Incarnations?
“What’s a tangled skein?” Junior asked.
“Trouble!” Atropos said.
Trouble, Niobe agreed.
They settled down under a tree and talked it out. “This is not a bad prophecy,” Atropos told the boys. “It is no disaster for a man to possess—that is, to marry—the most beautiful of women, and to have talented offspring. If they stand athwart the skein, that probably means they are to be very important figures. As for marrying Death and Evil—well, remember the prophecy says may. Any person may get into trouble if careless! You have your warning; you must educate your children to beware of such things as Death and Evil, and there should be no problem.”
“Say, yes!” Pace agreed, brightening. “We have been given warning. We can make it come out all right.”
But little Junior, oddly, was more pensive. “Aren’t prophecies un—un—”
“Unavoidable,” Atropos finished for him. “Yes, a true prophecy will be fulfilled, and this seems to be a true one. But it does provide leeway.”
“I want another,” Junior decided. “A corr—corr—”
“A corroborative opinion,” Pace finished.
Atropos shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt.”
Asking for a corroborative opinion? Niobe thought. My son is smart!
So they went to another seer. Again Atropos proffered the money, and again the seer did a double take. “What do you do here, you sinister trio?” she demanded.
“It is for the boys,” Atropos said, knowing it had not been the physical three the seer referred to. This was another qualified one! “Do them together. What is to become of them and their children?”
The seer took the boys’ hands, as had the first one— and her eyes also widened. “One to be savior of deer, his child savior of man; other to love an Incarnation, his child to be one. But the skein is tangled—oh!” The seer tore her hands away. “I cannot finish; it is too much for me.” Indeed, she was shaking.
They retreated and discussed this one. “Deer?” Junior asked.
His father sought to enable the deer to shoot back at the hunters, Niobe clarified. So Atropos explained about that, and the boy was satisfied.
“I’m going to do it!” he exclaimed. “Hama will show me how! I’ll make the deer shoot back!”
But Pace looked narrowly at Atropos. “How do you know about that? My cousin Cedric died before you met us;”
“I know his wife, Junior’s mother,” Atropos said. “I told you I was a friend of the family.”
“Oh? Where is she now? She hasn’t visited us in a long time.”
“She is locked into a very special project,” Atropos said. “A secret one. That is why she couldn’t have Junior with her.”
“She’s the most beautiful woman I ever saw,” Pace said dreamily.
“What’s an Incarnation?” Junior asked.
“The Incarnations are human personifications of the important aspects of existence,” Atropos said carefully. “Love, War, Time—”
“Death, Evil,” Pace put in. “That other prophecy—”
“I think,” Atropos said, “your daughters are going to associate with some remarkable figures, and perhaps become—”
“An Incarnation,” Pace said. “Is that possible?”
“Mortals do become Incarnations on occasion,” Atropos said. “But it is a very rare thing.”
“Which one?” Junior asked.
Atropos spread her hands. “As both seers said, it is a tangled skein. I doubt we can unravel it before the event— and it may not be wise to try.”
“Yes, I think we should stay away from prophecies after this,” Pace said. But Junior didn’t seem convinced.
They went on to other distractions of the fair, but the boys were pensive, and so was Niobe. As Aspects of Fate, she and Atropos could trace the threads of life—but not far into the future, for the vision of the Tapestry soon fuzzed. This wasn’t because of hostile magic, but because the Tapestry itself was so immensely complex that only direct inspection of its present portion could unravel any of it. But Niobe knew that the threads for both Pace and Junior were of normal length; neither would die young. After Cedric, she had made sure of that! But she could not see their precise interactions in the coming Tapestry. These prophecies seemed to confirm that the boys, who were already associating with an Incarnati
on, would continue to do so. In that sense the outlook wasn’t as remarkable as it seemed. But obviously there was a great deal destined to occur!
Time moved on, and none of them discussed the prophecies further, but Niobe knew that the boys had not forgotten. From that point on. Junior focused increasingly on magic. He bought a magic kit, and practiced simple conjurations and transformations. He wasn’t really good at them, but no other boy his age even attempted genuine magic; it was easier to hire a professional magician, or to buy packaged spells. Junior did seem to have a special talent for imprinting stones; it seemed the hamadryad had shown him that. He could take a pebble from the shore of a lake and cause it to glow or make a sound. Stonemagic was a specialty that few did well, and his ability was remarkable in one so young. Niobe bought an intermediate gemstone, a green aquamarine, and had Atropos give it to him for his eighth birthday. He was thrilled, and indeed the quality stone was much more responsive to his spells than the crude pebbles were. He fashioned it into a homing stone that showed by its glow which way home was, so that he could never get lost. “That boy is going to be a major magician, mark my word,” Atropos said.
Pace progressed to other interests, as well as taking over most of the management of the family farm. When he was twenty-two he married Blanche, a schoolmate with hair so fair it was almost white. Blanche was a fine person, warm and generous and competent about the farm, but by no stretch could she be termed the most beautiful woman of her generation. Pace gave Atropos a significant glance at the wedding, showing that he remembered the prophecy—and had deliberately avoided it.