Now she had to get on with the other part of it: seeing the new Chronos in. Chronos was too important to her job to be left to chance, as it were; she had to know exactly what she had to deal with. She returned to the amusement park and explored the situation.
She picked up a few minutes after she had intercepted Chronos with her printed signs, before. This time she concealed herself from him. She retained her body, because Lachesis was too inexperienced to handle this, and it was Atropos’ off-shift. She concealed her face somewhat with a kerchief, so that Chronos wouldn’t recognize her if he saw her—not that he had any notion of her identity or nature at this point. He hadn’t met her yet. She followed him as he meandered backward into the park. No one else paid him attention; mortals seldom noticed Incarnations, and the backward-living Chronos was difficult to relate to. So though they were in a crowd, it was in effect just the two of them, playing a kind of hide-and-seek.
She felt sorry for him, seeing him so confused and ill at ease. She knew what he was feeling, because he had told her about it. She knew him better than any other person did, now, and better than any other person would. Thirty-six years as associates and lovers did make for mutual understanding. Perhaps it would have been better if she had loved him, for certainly he had loved her. But, she decided, it had been necessary for one of them to be objective; that had enabled her to cope with the backward nature of their association, and not to take misunderstandings too seriously. She remembered when they had agreed to try the act of love in their natural states, moving in opposite temporal directions. They had had to coordinate it carefully, before and after. It had turned out to be possible and intriguing as a novelty—but, for her, not really much different from the normal act, because she had been only slightly aroused. She had simply been there for him, and for her own curiosity. So it had been a disappointment—but now she remembered it clearly, for what reason she was not sure, as she watched him wandering backward through the crowd. Perhaps, she thought, this was an analogy of the human condition: each person blundering along in his own course, trying to relate to others, and succeeding only fractionally. Because each person, mortal and immortal, was traveling along his own unique timeline, unable to tie in with others perfectly, however much they all tried.
Finally he backed into the horror house. She followed. Neither of them bought tickets, as the park proprietors were no more aware of them than the other mortals were. It was not a matter of invisibility, just of not being noticed. There, too, she thought, was an analogy of mortality: the key forces that governed the lives of people were generally unobserved by those who were most concerned.
The horror house was stocked with ghosts who floated out periodically, made faces, and yelled “Boooo!” supposedly scaring the paying customers. Only the smallest children were actually frightened; the others knew that ghosts were insubstantial and therefore harmless. Still, it was fun, in the sense that playing the rigged gambling games was fun. The illusion of fear and potential riches was what this sort of park was all about.
Niobe paused beside a ghost. “But what do you get out of it?” she asked. “Don’t you feel pretty stupid, playacting like this?”
“Well, it does get dull, and it is stupid, and it contributes to the prejudice people have against ghosts, but the pay is good,” the ghost replied. “A ghost can’t get a job just anywhere, you know.”
“But what use do you have for money?”
“Well, it’s like this,” the ghost said, clarifying into the semblance of a woman. “I was on my way to work, when I was alive, and I was late, so I cut through this alley. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I’d been late twice before that month, and I was on notice; I just had to get there on time. Suddenly a masked man jumped out at me. I screamed and ran, but he chased me down, held a knife to my face, and raped me. I was screaming all the time, but no one came to help me—and there were others in the alley, too, who could have helped. Finally—too late— I got mad, and I grabbed his hand and bit it. The last thing I remember is his knife coming down at my neck.”
“Ah, yes,” Niobe said. This was much more of an answer than she had sought.
“By the time I recovered consciousness, I was dead,” the ghost continued. “I guess it took me a few minutes to die, while I was unconscious. There was my body, naked from the waist down, and my throat was a mass of blood, and the rapist was gone. Well, I didn’t exactly take kindly to that. So I stayed around, determined to find out who had done it and make him pay. But that takes money, because private eyes don’t work for nothing, so here I am, earning money. Pretty soon I’ll have enough to hire one for a day, and if that doesn’t do it, I’ll keep working until it does get done.” She shrugged. “When you get down to it, geeking isn’t so bad.” She paused to jump out at another child, screaming “Booo!” The child eeked and giggled, pleased, and went on.
“I wish you luck and fortune,” Niobe said.
“Say—how is it you see me as a person?” the ghost asked. “I mean, most of the living folk don’t—”
“You are a person,” Niobe said. “I spun your thread myself. I’m sorry it was cut short.”
“Oh—you’re Fate! I didn’t recognize you!”
“Few do,” Niobe said, and proceeded on after Chronos, who had backed up the passage.
Why, she wondered, had Chronos chosen to make the change here? It was the next Chronos who had done it, the one coming from the future. He had not been bound to the site of birth, just to his moment of origin. He picked the place he wanted, and his successor had to come to it and take the Hourglass. Exactly how the successor knew where to come she was not sure; apparently there was a guidance in these things, and not the normal guidance of Fate. Lachesis had, of course, measured his mortal thread, but when that person became Chronos, that deleted the thread from the Tapestry as if it were an unscheduled demise. Chronos—the one she had known so long—had remarked that his mortal existence had seemed pointless and dull—jejune was the actual term he had used—so that when the opportunity came to become an Incarnation, he had taken it. But he hadn’t realized that it meant living backward, or battling Satan.
Well, she was about to learn about the future Chronos. She watched from a cranny of the horror house as the Chronos she knew backed to a dark chamber illuminated only by the glow of the Hourglass. From the far side another figure came, walking forward. The other Chronos!
No—it was the one she knew! She could tell by the way he moved. He walked forward, and the other walked backward, and they met in the center of the chamber. The Hourglass flared. Suddenly, in the glow of the Glass, there were three: two young women and a child! Of all times for horrorhouse customers to pass through!
But the women looked oddly familiar. Niobe saw one in silhouette as she turned: wasp-waisted, hair flowing— She stifled an exclamation. It was her double! The double walked right toward her. “Come with me, Niobe,” she said. “I’ll explain.” She took Niobe’s hand.
Bemused, Niobe suffered herself to be led out of the dark chamber, leaving the other women and the child behind. What was happening?
Out in the light of day, her double turned to her with a smile. “I am yourself, two hours later,” she explained. “You remember how you double up when you spend an hour in Chronos’ mansion?” Oh. “Yes. But—”
“There are three of you then,” the other continued. “Self One is the one approaching the mansion; Self Two is the one within it, living temporarily backward; and Self Three is the one living forward again, after emerging. You have always avoided each other before.”
“Um, yes. But—”
“Right now you are Self One. I am Self Three. Self Two is with Chronos, living backward.”
“But this is not his mansion!”
“He reversed us for an hour. He wanted company to see him out. He’s only a child, after all.”
“The—child I just saw?”
“Chronos can be any age or sex, as can any Incarnation,” Self Three reminded her. “He
’ll tell you about it, as he told me. I’m just making sure you understand the situation.”
Niobe took a deep breath. “I—think so. But who— who explained things to you when you were Self One? I mean, if we are all parts of the same person—”
“Self Three explained then, of course.”
“But you are Self Three!”
“I am now. Then I wasn’t. I was you.”
“But—”
The other laughed. “Don’t try to analyze it, self-sister! You’ll lose your mind. There really aren’t three of us, just one in three consecutive roles. Remember, Chronos is immune from paradox, and so are we when we interact with him.”
Niobe nodded, though she felt dizzy. “Now I know how Chronos felt when he started in office, just a few minutes ago. It’s almost too much to grasp!”
“I know. But it’s hard for the other Chronos, too. He’s afraid. So be kind to him; it won’t hurt you. I’m in a position to know.”
Then they both laughed; they were by no coincidence very similar people.
The two of them reminisced for the rest of the hour, finding themselves compatible. “We’ll have to do this again some time!” Self Three said, and Niobe agreed.
“Next time we spend time in Chronos’ mansion—which I don’t think will be for lovemaking—you come early, and I’ll wait for you.”
“Agreed.” They shook hands.
Then, as the moment drew near, they returned to the chamber. “We must part,” Self Three said, hugging her. She was a very huggable person. “It’s been nice talking with you.”
“Yes,” Niobe agreed. She saw tears on the other’s cheeks. In all the years she had been Clotho, she had never done this before. Now she realized what she had been missing.
Niobe entered the chamber, hesitated, turned—and Self Three waved her on. So she walked to the center, where the child stood with the other woman. “Hello,” she said.
“,olleH” Self Two replied.
Then Self Two suddenly stepped backward into Niobe. There was a mild jolt, and Niobe stumbled forward.
“Hello,” Niobe said.
“,olleH” the other replied. But the other was backing away.
“I guess you know I reversed you, Obe,” the child said.
Startled, she looked at him. He was about eight years old, with tousled sunbleached hair and eyes as blue as her own. He was indeed Chronos, for he carried the glowing Hourglass.
“Yes,” she agreed. “You—want company. For—the change.”
“I’ve never died before,” he confided. “I just didn’t want to do it alone.”
Niobe glanced about, seeing Self Three escorting Self One out—or rather in, as they were moving backward. She was Self Two, now. She had exchanged greetings with her other self, coming and going. To each, it had seemed that the other had spoken second, because of the reversed perspective. Now she had another job to do. “It’s not death,” she said reassuringly.
“It’s the same thing, for me,” he said. “I’ll be in Heaven—or Hell.”
Niobe shifted to Lachesis, who checked her threads. His was obscurely looped back on itself, but seemed otherwise unsullied. “Heaven, I’m sure.” She changed back.
There were two chairs by the wall. “I hope,” he said as they sat. “I know I shouldn’t worry, but I’m just a kid. I’m scared!” Then his eyes brimmed over, and he was crying.
Niobe reached across and pulled him in to her bosom. She had never in her life been able to resist a person who required comforting, and she understood tears about as well as anyone could. “Of course you are, dear, of course you are!” she said soothingly. “Not one of us is sanguine about—that.”
Soon his tears abated, but she continued to hold him, much as she had held his successor. There were times when men of any age needed the special favor of a woman’s embrace. It was too bad that people of either sex tended to confuse this with sex.
“You know, Obe,” he said, “when you came in, three years ago I guess it was, maybe two, I was mad; I liked Lisa. But when I got to know you, I liked you even better. You’re prettier.”
Lisa, evidently, was her successor—two or three years hence. Niobe stifled her shock. She had had no idea her own term was ending. “Beauty is no indication of merit,” she said. “I’m sure Lisa was a fine woman.”
“Oh, sure. And when she got mad at me, she’d tease me with that gibberish language others. But you—”
Niobe changed the subject. “How did you come to be Chronos?” she asked, glancing at the glowing Hourglass which floated before them. He had set it there when he started crying, and it remained.
“Oh, you know.” He straightened up, shrugging.
“I don’t know,” she reminded him. “I wasn’t there, remember? Lisa was.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, the Glass was going to be changed, but the guy coming for it chickened out.” He smiled toothily. “He saw it, and he ran! He just got the hoorah out of there. I was playing in the park, and I just knew someone had to take it, so I just stepped up and grabbed. I was too young to know any better. And here I am, eight years after. Before, I mean.”
“I’m surprised you were able to handle the job,” she murmured.
“Aw, Maw Cheese showed me how. I got the hang.”
“Maw Cheese?”
“You know, Obe. Your middle third.”
Oh. Lachesis. The accent was properly on the first syllable, and the ch was hard: LAK-e-sis. But obviously the child didn’t take names seriously. Maw Cheese! Lachesis snorted mentally. This whipper-snapper—
“But I always liked you best, Obe, after Lisa went, though Atta-pose is okay too. If I coulda growed up, I’da married you.”
“Immortality does have its liabilities,” Niobe said, smiling.
And so they talked, and Chronos was comforted, and as the hour ended he was ready for the Afterlife. In the final minute he lifted the Hourglass, and Niobe bent to kiss him, and backed off. As the Hourglass was taken by the shadowy other Chronos, the spell of reversal left her, and she moved toward again.
Quickly she intercepted the confused Self One. “Come with me, Niobe, I’ll explain.” She led the woman’ out before their presence could interfere with the backward dialogue of Self Two and the juvenile Chronos. “I am yourself, two hours later,” she explained, and went on to clarify the situation. Her prior self was duly impressed. It was fun, now that she knew what she was doing.
In due course she guided her other self back into the chamber, and waved her on when she hesitated. She watched as Self One and Self Two merged—and suddenly they were both gone. There was only the child Chronos, waiting nervously for his company.
How had he known she would come to him and agree to be reversed for that hour? Obviously she had told him she would do it when the time came. Nevertheless, it was a good thing that Chronos was immune to paradox.
She departed quietly. She had had enough of this scene; it was time to get back to her regular business.
One thing stayed in her mind, though. Three years—or two—until she left her office! To be replaced by Lisa.
—8—
SECOND LOVE
From time to time Niobe checked on her mortal family. The rawness of the tragedy of the wedding eased. Her son the Magician seemed to be quite happy with his bride Blenda. She was a schoolteacher, disdaining to exploit her beauty by going into show business. Blenda visited her father, Pacian, often, making sure he took care of himself during his bereavement. It was her bereavement too, but she used a spellstone her husband provided to damp its misery. This was not, Niobe knew, from any selfishness. It was simply that, with a husband and a father to attend to, and a class to teach, she could not afford to be incapacitated at this time. This was one of the benefits of modern magic; it did make it easier for people to survive such crises. Perhaps it was for similar reasons Blenda postponed starting her own family.
But Pacian was not doing as well. He refused to use magic to ameliorate his misery, and his suffer
ing did not appear to ease with time. He maintained himself with solemn dignity, meeting his commitments, keeping up his health, but he seemed to be aging too rapidly.
Niobe was concerned. As the mother of the Magician whom Satan had sought to strike down, she felt a guilty responsibility for the tragedy of the wedding. Also, as an Aspect of Fate, she knew she should have been able to balk Satan more effectively than she had. So it was at least in part her fault. Pacian had been her son’s best friend in youth, virtually his brother; it was not right to let him suffer.
She visited him in her own form and apologized. At first he hardly listened, but then he remembered. “You— you are the Magician’s relative! The one who posed with my daughter.”
Niobe wrestled briefly with her sense of propriety and decided it didn’t matter. “I am related to the Magician,” she reminded him. “Closely.”
“He has no little sister,” he said. “I am his only cousin, once-removed, so you cannot be related that way. Yet you are strangely familiar. Exactly how are you related?”
She delayed a moment more, hesitating before the plunge. “You have met me before.”
“I’m sure I have—or someone like you. It nags me every time I see you! But I can’t place the connection.”
“Certainly you can. I am the Magician’s mother.”
He laughed. “Sure, and you’re sixty years old!”
“Closer to sixty-two.”
“I knew his mother when I was a boy. She was the prettiest woman ever! But after she left Junior with us, she visited for a while, then disappeared. She had some kind of important job that took all her time. I think she just couldn’t stand to stay around where cousin Cedric had died.” Suddenly his animation deflated. “I know the feeling.”