They did sleep, unnecessary as it might be here, and were refreshed in the morning, pointless as that designation might be, here. Then they set out on foot for Fate's Abode.
Jolie was familiar with it, of course, but it was new to the others. It was in the form of a huge spider web, with the residence fashioned like a cocoon of webbing.
"Fate is a triple entity," Jolie reminded them. "I believe that Lachesis would not try to interfere with any person's thread of life for purely personal reasons, and probably neither told the other Aspects which thread yours was nor paid any special attention to it herself. So the chances are that she won't recognize either Orlene or Vita."
So do we make our identities clear at the outset, or wait? Orlene asked.
"I'd better identify myself first, and explain why I'm in a living host," Jolie said. "Then I'll introduce the two of you and turn the body over to Orlene."
They approached the structure, treading carefully on the huge web. Vita had nervous thoughts about big spiders, but Jolie reassured her: any spiders here were sure to be manifestations of Fate.
Jolie knocked on the web door. The surface yielded and sprang back as her knuckle touched it, but there was a sound, and in a moment the door was opened from inside.
A voluptuous black-haired girl stood there, her lustrous hair literally sparkling. "Oh, you're not an Incarnation!" she exclaimed, surprised.
"No, I'm Jolie," Jolie said. "In a mortal host. Hello, Clotho! Do you have time to—"
"Oh, Jolie! I didn't recognize you, but now I do! No, actually this isn't a good time; we have an emergency and are just about to go to the mortal realm."
Jolie hadn't anticipated this. Of course, she couldn't interfere with the business of an Incarnation. Yet it was in her mind, and the minds of her companions, that after this interview they should return to the mortal realm, to eat and to assimilate what they had learned. It would be awkward to come here a second time. "Maybe if I state my business quickly?"
The woman blinked into middle age. "Jolie, we really are too pressed for courtesy at the moment. I am sorry."
"I bring your granddaughter, Lachesis."
The Incarnation did a double-take. "Oh, my! Very well, come inside while we prepare. We can talk while I orient on the appropriate threads."
Jolie entered. The Abode inside was fashioned of web also, with floor, walls, ceiling and even furniture all of the grayish material. She turned the body over to Orlene.
"Hello, I am Orlene," Orlene said awkwardly. "I lost my baby, and died, and now—"
Lachesis spun on her. "You what?"
"You didn't know?" Orlene asked, taken aback. "I assumed I was only reminding you."
"My dear, I know nothing of your activities. This is deliberate, so that I will not play favorites with mortal threads. I did know that Jolie was keeping track of you, and though she associates with Satan, she also associates with your mother, who likewise does not follow your activities. We have been satisfied that Jolie would notify us if something important came up in your case, and I assumed that this visit represented such a notification. But—you died?"
"Yes. When my baby died, I—I committed suicide. I realize I shouldn't have, but—"
Lachesis plumped into a chair, appalled. "I hoped I had misheard or misunderstood. Where was Jolie while this was going on?"
"She was observing a candidate for a future Incarnation, and I was doing well—there was no indication, because it happened fairly quickly, and—"
"So now she brought you here, in an effort to make up for the oversight that allowed you to die?"
"I don't blame her!" Orlene exclaimed. "I was responsible for what I did. Now she is helping me seek my baby, and I thank her for that."
Lachesis paused, as if listening to an inner voice. Then she stood. "I can see this is going to be complicated, but we really are busy, and can't take the time to investigate your thread. We shall simply have to take you along with us and discuss your situation as we go." She made a curious motion with her hand, and a length of thread flung out, lassoing Orlene. "This will keep you close; don't be concerned if strange things happen."
"Oh, I have already seen some pretty strange—" Orlene started. But she broke off as Lachesis became a huge spider.
The spider jumped through the wall of the Abode—and Orlene followed, drawn by the thread. There was no jerk or vertigo, just an abrupt change of setting, as they passed through the wall without resistance and hovered over a giant tapestry in another chamber. The tapestry was fashioned of many thousands of brightly colored threads, and each of these followed its own course without regard to the patterning of the tapestry as a whole. Yet, overall, it was a marvelously unified construction, and beautiful in its variety and depth.
"This is the Tapestry of Life," Lachesis explained.
"We are about to search out several particular threads, each of which represents the life of one mortal person." They floated down—and instead of landing on the Tapestry, they approached it as if from an enormous distance, and it seemed to grow larger with changing perspective.
Awed by this vision, Orlene for the moment forgot her own quest. "If I may inquire—what is the emergency you are in? I thought Fate controlled the destiny of all things, so would be the last to suffer a problem."
"True and false. We handle the lives of mortals, but we operate within a framework of rules that greatly limits our leeway. We must also be careful of the interactions within the Tapestry; if, for example, we carelessly remove one thread, that may affect others, which in turn affect others, in the end damaging the larger pattern and requiring spot correction. We also may be subject to the interference of Satan. We also on occasion do make errors—of which you may be an example. But this particular emergency relates to none of these. Atropos is retiring."
"Your— One of your three components?" Orlene asked, surprised.
"Our eldest Aspect, yes. She who cuts the threads of life." Lachesis was abruptly replaced by Atropos, a large grandmotherly black woman. "As Fate, we don't play favorites," Atropos said. "But we do watch. Lachesis refused to watch you, but I see it differently, and I watched my friends. Suddenly one is in trouble, because of a distant thread I had to cut, and I feel responsible. I can't ethically help her as Fate, but I can step down and then help her all I want as a mortal, and that's what I have to do. So there has to be a replacement for me. This business came up so quickly, I hadn't lined up a successor—but if I don't step down before today is out, it will be too late for my friend. So we're in a real hurry."
Orlene was coming to appreciate the fact that not even the powerful Incarnations had easy existences. Their responsibilities expanded with their powers, and the complexities of their Offices could lead to hectic moments.
The Tapestry of Life was looming closer. Now the individual strands looked like cables, stretching from horizon to horizon (though there wasn't any horizon here), sometimes brushing by others, sometimes spanning regions alone. The network had looked flat from a distance, but now was clearly three dimensional, with many layers of threads, and the weave was increasingly intricate.
"Jolie might have a candidate," Orlene suggested. "She has been observing prospects for Incarnations."
"Any smart grandmothers who want to leave the mortal realm?" Atropos asked.
No, Jolie thought. Mine are all younger.
"No," Orlene echoed.
"Well, we do have a couple of prospects," Atropos said. "There's a woman who has had an immense amount of life experience and we think could do an excellent job, if she wants to. We're going to ask her now."
They had reached the Tapestry of Life and were flying between the huge cables. They oriented on one that extended a long way back. It had been twined closely with several others, but those had terminated, and now it continued in isolation.
They flew right up to it—but as they came within touching range it changed, and became a woman, in a dusky room, sitting alone, crocheting.
Atropos came to stand before her. "May I talk to you, Mrs. Forester?" she inquired politely.
"Why not?" the woman replied. "I can't see you well, but I can hear you. You're supernatural, aren't you?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"Because you never came in the door. I never heard it open, or the floors creak. You coming to take me out of Mortality?"
"Maybe. Mrs. Forester, I am an Aspect of Fate. I cut the threads of life. I need to step down, and I would like you to take my place. I have observed you, and believe you are qualified to handle this Office."
"You are the one who ends lives?"
"Who sets their limits, yes. It is, of course, not a casual decision; I spend as much time as I need to determine the appropriate point for each."
"I can't see well enough to read, which is why I'm not looking at a book now or watching a holo. How do you think I could see a life well enough to judge when it should be stopped?"
"You will assume a new body," Atropos said. "Then you will be able to see perfectly. You will also be in perfect health and invulnerable to physical injury. You will be immortal, as long as you want to be. But you will be one of three, never alone, never completely in charge."
Mrs. Forester sat for a while and thought about it. Finally she looked up. "I don't want it."
"Do you know that you do not have long to live, as you are? This would effectively extend your thread of life indefinitely."
"I know it. But it's my turn to go, and I'm ready for it. You have cut the lives of my husband and my children and my friends, so that now I am alone. All of them should have had more time to live. Maybe you had reason—but I know I don't want to do that to anyone else. I'd rather just finish my term and rejoin my folks in Heaven. I will not serve as judge on any other person's life."
Atropos nodded. "Mrs. Forester, I thought you would feel that way. I am stepping down because I am needed in the mortal realm, and will not interfere with the lives of those who don't deserve it, for my own personal reasons. I will not live long after I step down, but I will do what has to be done. I came to offer you this position because I knew you were competent and not power hungry. But it is true that Fate makes decisions on the lives and deaths of mortals, and you can not avoid these decisions if you assume the Office. I thank you for your time, and I respect your decision."
Mrs. Forester picked up her crocheting. "Come and see me, when your business is done and you are mortal."
"I will try to." Atropos faded out.
Away from the thread, Atropos vented her spleen. "Damn it! Some of these white women have too much pride! It's hard to get the best, because they aren't moved by the idea of power or immortality."
They were moving through the cables, toward another prospect. Lachesis remanifested. "Why did you come to me now, Orlene?"
"When I met Thanatos, I prevailed on him to spare the life of a newborn baby. We took it to a hospital instead. Thanatos said you would have to adjust its thread. I—"
"I have already remeasured it," Lachesis said. "Thanatos has compassion, and I would not second-guess it. I handled that the moment it occurred, without investigating the case, because I knew he would have reason."
"Thank you," Orlene said, relieved. "The other thing—I went to Nox to recover my own baby, but she said I had to have an item from each Incarnation. From you, a new thread, to—"
Lachesis was replaced by Clotho, the lovely, youngest Aspect. "That is my department; I spin the threads of life. But this is no minor thing you ask! For one thing, what is the point, if your baby is already dead?"
"My baby died because he had come upon an incurable malaise of the soul. That malaise continues after his death and will prevent him from ever being a truly good spirit. I must free him from that."
Clotho looked at her. "I sympathize with your need, but each thread I spin represents a potential life. I cannot sacrifice any one of them without excellent reason. I know you are the granddaughter of Niobe—I mean, Lachesis but we cannot do favors merely because of such a relationship."
"If there is any way I can earn it," Orlene said. "Any thing I can do—"
"We really do not stand in need of anything a mortal might offer, and even less of anything a ghost could do. Certainly we can consider the matter, and if anything occurs—" She shrugged.
Orlene felt the weight of defeat. She knew she had nothing to offer but her plea. Clotho was treating her fairly: she could not claim otherwise.
They reached the next thread. This one was amidst several others; it was evident that no close associates of this person had died recently.
They approached—and were in the presence of an old woman on a convoluted carpet. "Miss Ember," Atropos said, reappearing.
The woman jumped! "Oh, I didn't see you coming! What can I do for you? I have some nice knickknacks for sale—"
"I am Atropos, an Aspect of Fate. I have watched you, and know that you are a good woman. I want you to take my Office and cut the threads of life."
"Is this a joke? I may be old and crippled, but my mind is sound. What are you trying to pull?"
"I can prove my identity, if you wish. This is not a joke."
"Very well: prove it."
Atropos flung a line of web. It settled around the woman. Then Atropos flung another line, up through the roof of the house. She became a giant spider. She hooked onto the line that secured Mazie Ember's carpet with one leg, and used the others to climb the other line.
The climb was rapid. In a moment they were passing through the roof and rising up into the sky. Atropos/spider hauled the cargo up to a local cloud. Then, perched on the top of the cloud, Atropos resumed her human form. "This is part of the power of an Incarnation. Do you wish to see more?"
Mazie was evidently shaken, but not convinced.
"Yes."
Lachesis reappeared. "I am the central Aspect of Fate, Lachesis. I measure the threads of life." Then Clotho; "And I spin them. The three of us share this body, and you would share it, too, being immortal until you chose to leave."
Mazie was becoming persuaded. "I never thought that I would ever be offered such a job! But I can't move my limbs at all; that's why I use a medical carpet. I would be useless."
"No," Clotho said. "You would join our body, leaving yours behind. Atropos would assume your body, and it would assume her likeness and mortal capabilities, and she would use your carpet to fly away to her pressing business among the mortals. You would regain full use of your limbs."
"Oh, my!" Mazie exclaimed, astonished. "What a dream!"
"But you would have to share time with the other two," Clotho said. "Lachesis and I would be your constant companions. Our duties are pressing; it is no holiday we offer you. Merely a new mode of existence."
Mazie shrugged. "No."
Atropos reappeared. "You do not wish to take the Office?"
"Oh, I would love the Office! But not the responsibility. I could not ever trust myself to decide when a life should end. I am sure I would make mistakes, and that is too important to allow mistakes. So I know I must not do it."
"We all have had to learn our Offices," Atropos said. "We all have made mistakes. But we keep striving to do better."
"But I don't trust my own judgment," Mazie said. "I have always been dependent on the decisions of others. To be suddenly free of pain, of paralysis, and to be making decisions for others—no, I know I would make a mess of it. So I thank you for the offer, and I make the one decision whose correctness I can be sure of: not to take what you offer."
Atropos gazed at her, then faded out. The carpet slid back down the line, into the house, and resumed its former position, no harm done, "We can't force a person to take the Office," Atropos said. "But it leaves us up the crick. I don't have any more good prospects."
Clotho reappeared. "Are you sure you have to go, Atropos? You know we'd rather have you stay with us."
"I have to go," Atropos said, manifesting again. "What I have to do, no other can do for me. I guess we'll just have to shop for any woman who'll take the job, even if she isn't the best. I hate this, but that's the way it is."
Lachesis manifested. "It is your prerogative to end your tenure when you choose. We must support you in this, just as we supported Clotho's predecessor when she decided to marry the Japanese martial artist. It will work out somehow: it always has. It is not as if your successor will be alone or unguided." But she did not look happy.
"If I may ask—" Orlene said hesitantly.
Lachesis glanced at her. "Oh, Orlene—I forgot you were with us! Of course we shall return you to the Abode!"
"No, I mean, I have a question about your change of Aspect. Does it have to be a woman?"
Lachesis paused. "Why no, of course not," she said. "No Incarnation is fixed by sex. But during both my tenures—no, it doesn't have to be a woman."
"I think I know a man who might be good, and who might accept it," Orlene said. "If you were willing to consider him—"
Jolie and Vita, hitherto satisfied to leave it to Orlene, came alive together. You don't mean— Jolie started. Roque? Vita concluded, with horrendously mixed emotions.
"Who is this man?" Lachesis asked sharply.
"His name is Nicolai," Orlene said. Jolie and Vita relaxed, amazed. Orlene, pretty much lost at her death and after the encounter with Nox, was now really taking hold! "He's an old Gypsy widower, whose only daughter is married and gone. I don't know if he is still alive, actually, but—"
Lachesis spread her hands. Between them a webbing appeared: a section of the Tapestry of Life. She peered closely into it. "He is alive." She put her hands together and the webbing vanished, except for a single strand.
Then they were moving rapidly along that strand. All else blurred past.
They came to rest in a village in southern France. The old Gypsy man's refuse hovel remained almost unchanged—and so did he. He had been about sixty years old; now he was eighty, and slower, but still doing for himself in the Gypsy way.
Atropos appeared to him. "Nicolai," she said.
The old man's gaze swung to fasten on her. "I hear you, Mistress of threads! What do you want with me?"
"How are you at judging folk?"
"Excellent!" he said. "I can tell almost at a glance how much money a man is worth and how much he will yield for a trinket."
Atropos smiled. "All Gypsies can. But suppose you had to make decisions on their lives?"
"A man does what he has to. But we do not like to kill. That is seldom necessary."
"I will be direct. I am Fate. I have three Aspects, one of which I must replace before the day is out. We are considering you to replace that Aspect, but we are uncertain whether we want a male, and whether you should be that male. If you are interested, you must persuade all three of us, and we may not be kind in the investigation. We can not give you time to consider; our deadline is hard upon us, and if you do not wish to be considered, we must go elsewhere immediately."
Nicolai hardly blinked. "The Romani are quick to assess any situation. Answer me three questions, and I will answer yours."
"Ask."
"Which Aspect?"
Atropos touched her ample bosom. "Me—Atropos. I cut the threads of life."
"Will I have complete discretion about which threads to cut?"
"No. You must always consider the benefit of the entire Tapestry of Life, and the interests of the other Aspects and the other Incarnations. The cutting is never random or careless. But within those guidelines, you do have discretion. No one else will second-guess you."
"Will there be occasion for music or dancing or storytelling?"
"If you wish."
"Then I am interested."
Atropos gazed at him. "You didn't ask about magic or immortality or power."
"I didn't need to. I know what Incarnations are. I know the power they wield. I know they are immortal as long as they want to be. I know they can choose their forms and that at least one aspect of Fate is always young and lovely."
"That won't do you any good," Atropos warned. "Only one Aspect can assume form at a time, the other two becoming mere thoughts. You will never be able to touch Clotho."
"But what joy to be near her!"
"Then let her be the first to question you," Atropos said grimly.
Clotho appeared, deceptively young and bouncy. "So you like to dance," she said. "How can you reconcile that with the serious business of cutting threads?"
"What is life worth without merriment? Serious matters constantly beset every mortal person. We can seek reprieve only in the innocent pleasures of life, such as music and dance and the appreciation of luscious flesh like yours."
Clotho was not much moved. "If you faced death tomorrow, would you dance today?"
"Yes! I face death every moment of my life, especially now that my years are almost done, so every moment I make the most of it. There can be no better death than with a fiddle in my hands and a song in my throat and beauty in my eye."
She remained skeptical. "Let me see you dance, then."
"Give me a partner."
Clotho hesitated, obviously not wanting to be diverted by getting into it herself.
I'll do it! Vita thought. I think his dancing is terrific! "Do it, then." Orlene turned the body over to her. "I'll dance with you!" Vita cried. "But I don't know the tanana!
"Then learn it," Nicolai said, assuming a formal position. He seemed unsurprised by her appearance from nowhere. "Stand opposite me, look me in the eye. Now respond as I move, so." He demonstrated—and as he moved, he seemed to lose forty years.
Vita followed his directions, haltingly at first, then with greater confidence. Soon she was doing a bit of the tanana, and becoming extraordinarily sexy in the process. The dance left barely enough to the imagination to differentiate it from abandoned lovemaking, yet that caused the imagination to run rampant. Her hips flung out, and around, and forward in unmistakable emulation of vigorous copulation. Her breasts stood up and shook independently. But it was the movements of the head that had the greatest effect, particularly the eyes. She shot dark glances sidelong at her partner, those looks barely passing her tousled hair, and Nicolai met them with such burgeoning implication that even in the midst of her own effort she blushed. Jolie knew that the Gypsies were supposed to be lusty folk; now she knew that it was no exaggeration. They made sex appeal into an art, and it was truly shameless: they had no shame in it. Jolie felt Vita's increasing delight in the forms of it: this was almost as good as making it with Roque!
Meanwhile Clotho watched, her cynicism slowly becoming interest, and her interest excitement. Her body mirrored in diminished scope the motions Vita was making. Finally she could stand it no longer; she stepped forward, joining the dance.
Clotho was good at it; obviously she had had experience dancing. She quickly picked up the motions Vita had struggled over, and her voluptuous body gave her a head start. Orlene, watching, had a thought: She is Norton's lover?
You died, Jolie reminded her. He still prefers you, but you can not join him.
I have no business being jealous, she agreed. All the same...
Nicolai adapted without a hitch. Now he danced opposite two young women, and courted them both, and made both feel helplessly wanton. He could have stripped the clothes off each and done whatever he wanted with them, and neither would have objected; rather, they would have joined in with enthusiasm. They were captive of the tanana, and reveling in it. They had lost the social limitations they had come with, for the abandon of the dance.
Nicolai brought it to a halt. With the termination of his motion, his age returned. "That is the way I want to die," he repeated. "With lovely, panting maidens surrounding me. I have no fear of death when I have the dance. It is even better to the music, and with costume."
Clothe and Vita looked at each other. Indeed, they were panting, more from excitement than from the exertion of the exercise. "I must learn that dance!" Clotho said. "Eighty years old, and he can do that to me—I must learn it!"
Then she was replaced by Lachesis. "You have one vote, Nicolai," she said. "But I am not frozen at twenty; I have more on my mind than physical expression." Nicolai squinted at her. "Orb!" he exclaimed. "You are her mother!"
"Now how would you know that?" Lachesis asked, startled.
"I am of the Romani. I see the family favor. Orb, she was beautiful, and she had a talent with music. She said once that her mother had been the most beautiful woman of her generation. I have seen none lovelier than Orb. You what were you like when you were her age?"
Lachesis changed, becoming abruptly younger, and stunningly beautiful. "When I was Niobe," she said.
"Ah, she was right!" he breathed. "And can you also make music like hers?"
"No. She derived that from her father's side. Now stop trying to flatter me, and we'll see whether you qualify for our position."
"I was not trying to flatter you!" he protested innocently. "You know I spoke only truth."
"And a Gypsy can charm anyone!" she said. But she did not revert to her older form. She had been charmed, despite her caution.
"What would you have me do?"
"Can you relate to the problems of women, as well as to their sex appeal?"
He smiled. "In your presence, this is difficult—no, do not change!—but I will try. I sired but one daughter, and she was blind and lame, but I loved her as I loved none but her mother, and I treated her as a princess, and she was beautiful, but others did not find her so, and that was my abiding grief. What is there for a girl of the Romani who can not dance? But she had magic, and I wished I could teach her to use it, but I could not, for all I knew was the fiddle.
"Then Orb came, and she played and sang, and she had the magic. I sent for her, and gave her Tinka, and Orb taught my beloved to use her magic, and garbed her prettily, and was her friend, and brought her to the dance, and now Tinka could do well what was halting before, for her music gave her strength, and she was lovelier than any save her mentor, and the young men clustered around her, and soon she was married. From that moment Orb had no enemy among our kind, and I loved her for what she had done for my beloved child.
"Always before, I had seen in every woman the shadow of what was the great darkness that blighted my daughter, for without beauty a woman is nothing. Always thereafter I saw in every woman a hint of the brilliance of my beloved, and no woman was ugly to me, and I loved them all. If a woman has a problem, it is my problem too; if she hurts, I hurt too. Now Tinka is a grandmother, for generations come fast among our kind, and she can see, and I thank the world each day for the occasion that brought her salvation. That was your daughter, Niobe, who blessed mine, and I would do anything for her or for you." He abruptly stepped forward, swept Niobe into his arms and kissed her.
Jolie watched, caught between a laugh and outrage. What an impertinent gesture! But she saw that Niobe wasn't resisting, and indeed was cooperating. Two down, Orlene thought, and Jolie had to agree. The old man certainly knew how to make an impression on women, young or old, and all of them were women.
Niobe broke, gently. "It occurs to me that we could use talent like that, on occasion," she said. "But Fate has been traditionally female, and there could be complications if one of our Aspects was male. For example, we have been having an affair with another Incarnation, and I think it best that he not know that there is any male involvement. How are you at emulating a woman?"
"I would regard it as an exercise in costume," Nicolai said. "In my youth, I dressed in skirt and stuffed blouse and thieved from a rich household, undiscovered, though the master stole a kiss from me. But I fear my whiskers would give me away now."
Niobe laughed. "You would be able to don fully female flesh, of any age. That is not the problem. It is the attitude: could you act female for any length of time without becoming angry or ashamed?"
"Perhaps you misunderstand the nature of Romani pride," he said. "It is not in being male or female, but in being apt at what one does. If I emulate a woman, my pride is in being so good at it that not only does no one suspect, but any man I encounter cannot keep his eyes and his hands off me."
The mature Lachesis reappeared. "You are a rogue, Gypsy man!"
Nicolai smiled. "You knew that before you kissed me, Irish woman."
"Indeed I did! Were you not so winning, I would urge Atropos to cut your thread immediately. But we are in need, and it may be better to have your persuasive nature working for us, for those times we must deal with others of your nature."
Atropos appeared. "And it is my turn. I'm no young pretty thing, and never was one; I'm an old black woman who's seen your kind before. You want to take my place, you rascal, then you sell me, and a kiss won't do it."
"If I can't sell you, I don't deserve to take your place, you magnificent creature," he said.
"I think this is going to be fun," Vita murmured. "We have a case now for some thread cutting," Atropos said grimly. "We had hoped to find the new Atropos before this, but have taken too much time already, and it will have to do for an examination exercise. Come and see how you see it, because this is the job you would have to do." She flung a web, and it settled about Nicolai. Then she became the huge spider and raced through the roof and into the sky, hauling the man along, with Vita trailing.
Nicolai looked back at Vita. "I never thought I would go to Heaven; the Romani really don't believe in it, though we profess whatever religion is current and convenient. But if it happened, I didn't think it would be like this!"
"We aren't going to Heaven," Vita said. "Purgatory, maybe, but not Heaven."
"You do not seem to be an Incarnation. I did not see you until you stepped out to dance with me. Why are you here?"
"I came at a bad time, so they took me along. I'm just a street girl, with two ghosts to set me straight. This is fan!"
"The Romani could teach you much."
"Yes, but I'm supposed to steer clear of that stuff!" Vita said, laughing.
"Perhaps we shall meet again."
"Gee, I hope so!"
The spider halted. Atropos remanifested. They were in a chamber, and something was going on.
"We cannot be perceived," Atropos said. "We are as ghosts to the mortals here. This is a large saucer, about to be hijacked by terrorists six hours hence, as it orbits the Moon. We must manage events to minimize needless loss of life. Mishandled, the saucer will crash, costing two thousand innocent lives and several guilty ones. But the skein is already tangled, and now we must choose which threads to cut, and to what length. What is your judgment?"
Vita whistled silently. "That old lady, she doesn't fool around!" she murmured.
Nicolai swayed a moment, evidently set back by the suddenness and force of this challenge. Then he took hold. "Are there any stops between here and the Moon?"
"No," Atropos said.
"Any intercepting craft?"
"No."
"So all crew and passengers are aboard, and cannot leave?"
"Yes."
"May we warn the Captain about the coming hijacking, so he can prevent it?"
"No. Fate may not interfere overtly in the Tapestry of Life. It has long since been established that to do so leads to unmanageable complications and snarls that have worse effect than any good done by the interference. You might liken it to performing surgery on a man by poking him with a long needle: the harm in the doing exceeds the harm of inaction."
"So we can neither kill the hijackers early nor warn of their plot?"
"We can't kill them at all," Atropos said. "See, here is the skein." She gestured, and the endless complex pattern of colored threads appeared, superimposed on the chamber, passing through it. Six threads glowed. "These are the hijackers. One of them enters a tangle at the start of the hijacking; that one we can cut. But the others—see where their threads are destined."
Indeed, the glowing five remaining threads wound back into the Tapestry to interact with many hundreds or thousands of others. It was plain that if any of these were cut prematurely, there would be extraordinary changes in the fabric and a major unraveling could occur.
Fate has to manage the entire Tapestry of Life, Jolie thought in explanation. Normally her staff in Purgatory, and her field agents in the mortal realm, handle the details, but in serious cases like this one she takes a personal hand. She's not about to wreck the pattern they have labored to smooth, by interfering grossly here.
Nicolai peered at the Tapestry where the tangle was the one that marked the hijacking. "Why is this fuzzy?"
"Because I have not yet decided how to manage it. There is the potential to have a few threads cut and straighten the tangle, or to ignore it, in which case most of the threads will be unable to continue. There are about two thousand of them. But as you can see, this is an intricate knot, with many possibilities, and if I mark the wrong threads for cutting, instead of simplifying the knot it may only make it worse, and many more will be lost. I believe I can bring it down to fifteen cuts, but I would prefer that it be even fewer."
Nicolai inspected the pattern closely. "I have been good at tangles in the past," he said. "The Romani learn what we have to, including the artistry of tying and untying many kinds of knots." He traced the lines that skirted the tangle. Five of them glowed. "The hijackers are on the saucer with the victims, yet do not tangle?"
"The Tapestry of Life takes only peripheral note of geography," Atropos explained. "What is important is how lives interact with each other. Those five remain largely aloof and in charge; they will take a life ship away from the saucer if they encounter trouble, and will hold the passengers hostage otherwise. Only the crew and passengers are at risk—and almost any or all of them can be cut off here, unless I act to alleviate it."
"These threads here and there which almost merge what does that signify?"
"A very intimate interaction," she replied gruffly. "Romance or lovemaking. That normally occurs when a new thread is started in the Tapestry. On entertainment voyages such as this one, a lot of it goes on. That is a portion of the appeal of planetary tours."
He nodded, and continued looking closely.
"Sometimes there is a key strand which, when pulled or cut, frees the entire mass," Nicolai said, peering closely at the thick column of threads that represented the interaction of all those on the saucer. The six hijacker threads were mixed in, until the tangle began; they were merging with the throng, concealing their nature and purpose. They were evidently experienced—and this success would enhance their influence in the mortal realm, as their subsequent interactions indicated. "Satan has a hand in this?"
"Of course," Atropos said, "He stands to gain by the disruption of the orderly skein. The more disruption there is, the more evil surfaces, and he gleans that evil."
But the evil is there already; Satan merely finds ways to evoke it, Jolie thought. That helps separate evil from good, which is the point of mortal life.
But what if that separation occurs at the cost of many lives? Orlene inquired.
They go to Heaven or to Hell, as the case may be; their souls are immortal.
But their chance to change their status ends prematurely. That is not fair.
That is not fair, Jolie agreed.
"I believe I can cut it down to six lives," Nicolai said, looking up from the skein.
"Impossible!" Atropos exclaimed. "How do you propose to do that?"
"By saving this one," he said, pointing to the lone hijacker thread that entered the tangle. "But that will only help the hijackers!"
"I think not. Note the close association with this victim thread, which also enters the tangle. Are they not lovers?" Atropos looked. "Yes, certainly. What of it?"
"One is a hijacker, the other a victim." She pursed her lips. "Now that is interesting, I agree! But of course the hijackers conceal their natures until the moment comes to strike. He would take advantage of what offers, male fashion. It can hardly affect the outcome, since he is the one who doesn't make it through cleanly."
"But if he survives, and loves a victim, what then?" Atropos peered at the configuration. "You sly dog! You just may be correct! In fact, I think you are!"
"Satan usually leaves a way out, does he not, in case a project sours? This is the secret key he has left, intended only for his own use if he chooses. We had but to find it."
"Only a rogue would find it!" Atropos said. "Agreed."
They poked into the tangle, analyzing the implications of the added thread, each making objections and answering them. "Let's play it through," Atropos said at last. "Remember, we must not influence him directly, but if an indirect nudge will do it—"
We can do it! Vita thought eagerly.
"We might help," Orlene said.
"Yes, I could use you," Nicolai said. "You do not count as Fate; you are ghosts."
Atropos frowned, but did not debate the matter. She obviously wanted to see whether the loss of life could be cut down to the level Nicolai suggested. She made an adjustment on the webs that had brought Vita and Nicolai here. "These will maintain you in unperceived status for the duration. I shall return; at the moment I must see to business elsewhere."
They understood: if this did not work out. Fate needed another prospect for a quick exchange, and could not afford to wait six hours to set it up. They were on their own for this event.
Orlene, perceiving the nature of what the Gypsy had in mind, elected to bow out. She turned the body over to Vita, though it was now very like a ghost. Vita was young, but she had the necessary experience.
It was a six-hour wait, for they could not jump forward the way Chronos could. Vita followed the female passenger, while Nicolai followed the key hijacker.
The girl was Obelia, an heiress and socialite, making one of her frequent trips to the moon for entertainment and gambling. She was reasonably pretty and well formed, and made the most of it by wearing expensive jewelry and eyecatching clothing. She was frankly bored, and looking for excitement.
The man was Basil, of a good family fallen into hard times. He had the graces of royalty, but he had joined the hijacking plot because it promised to bring him restored wealth. The others were fanatics, but Basil was not; he simply knew what he wanted, and wasn't scrupulous about how he got it.
The first meeting of the two was coincidental: they were both unattached and attending one of the dances arranged by the saucer line. Saucers were the luxury vessels of the day: they had inherited the mantle of the old ocean cruisers, and it was truly said that many an illicit affair began on them. So, in this case, needing partners, the two of them came together. There was a certain air of elegant mystery about Basil that appealed to Obelia, and there was no mystery about the qualities she had that appealed to him: diamond earrings and a well-tempered cleavage.
So they danced, and it was fairly clear from the outset what each desired of the other: attention and excitement. They proceeded to their first sexual encounter with almost flawless point and counterpoint, in the manner of bidding hands of a card game, the object being not so much the culmination as the challenge of achieving it with proper flair.
But this was to be more than that, thanks to the influence of Fate's minions. "Let me clarify this," Nicolai said, as he and Vita watched the couple stripping down for sex. "They will have a whirlwind fling—by the threads it seems perhaps three episodes in five hours—but each knows it is only a passing diversion, and they will part when the saucer docks at the moon. He will be wounded in the takeover struggle, and she will be the fifth hostage executed before the saucer Captain caves in and gives the hijackers command. We must intensify their passing passion into burgeoning love, so that neither can tolerate the death of me other."
"But how will that change what happens?" Vita asked.
"She will be near the Captain when hostilities break out; their threads indicate this. She may be able to save Basil, and he in turn will save her. But their love must be true, or events will overrun them both. We cannot tell them this, but we can enhance their feelings subliminally. We must be like Romani, deceiving the eye and mind to move our subjects to our will without their knowing. Can you do this, girl?"
"You mean, sort of get inside her and make her love him more?"
"Yes, as I must do for him, using the ghost-power Fate has lent me."
"Gee, I've done sex with a lot of men, but love with only one," Vita said, abruptly reconsidering. "I don't think I could do it with another. But maybe Jolie could."
But I love Satan! Jolie protested, appalled by this sudden shift.
"Or Orlene," Vita said.
Orlene considered. I loved Norton, but must let him go. I like Roque, but would not interfere with you. I think this is an exercise I must attempt.
"Great!" Vita exclaimed, relieved. She turned the body over to Orlene.
"I am Orlene, one of the ghosts," Orlene said. "I have assumed control. I will try to enter the woman and enhance her love."
"That is good. This element is essential, for it is the only way we can accomplish our purpose."
Orlene approached the woman and tried to enter her the way she had Vita. To her surprise, she succeeded. Apparently her occupation of a physical host did not prevent her from animating another, in this special circumstance Fate had set up. Nicolai disappeared similarly into the man.
So this is what it feels like to animate another body! Vita thought.
Don't distract Orlene, Jolie warned. Lives are at stake.
They had entered the host barely in time, for Obelia was just coming together with Basil. She was about to say something like, "Let's see just how good you are, stud!" but Orlene put forth a powerful thought, and it came out, "Oh, what a handsome man you are, Basil!" Obelia was startled to hear herself say this, for she was jaded about sex and generally preferred to make her men squirm a little even during the height of their passion.
"Any man must be handsome in the presence of such beauty," Basil replied. Jolie had to suppress her laughter, which might become perceptible and interfere with the mood. There was the smooth Gypsy man talking!
Obelia felt a small thrill of pleasure at the unexpected compliment. This thrill somehow magnified, well beyond what was called for, as Orlene threw herself into it. As a result, instead of simply spreading her legs and getting on with the sex, Obelia kissed him passionately.
He seemed surprised, but quickly responded, nattered that she should take such an interest. Maybe she wasn't the hardboiled socialite he had taken her for! She responded to his response. As a result, what both had expected to be a fast, wild encounter became more extended and tender. He forgot her diamonds and noticed her eyes, while she found greater appeal in contact than there had been in mystery.
After the early passion abated, they remained together and talked, discovering common interests that would otherwise have remained undiscovered. Their three almost competitive episodes became two far more meaningful ones. Love was dawning, amazing them both.
They separated at last, for each had other business. She had a formal dinner with the Captain, for her family was a significant investor in the saucer enterprise, while he had to participate in the hijacking. She wanted to cancel the date to remain with him, and he wanted to warn her to stay in her cabin for the next hour, but could not without imperiling his mission.
The ghosts emerged. "That was very nice, Orlene," Nicolai said.
"You are an expert!" she replied. She felt a certain shame for the passion she had engendered and participated in, for she had felt it as if it were her own. But she knew she would do it again if the occasion arose. It was a pleasure evoking the positive aspects of people, rather than letting the negative ones dominate.
An hour later it started. The hijackers brought out makeshift weapons and laid siege to the control room and the Captain's quarters. The saucer's crew was helpless; the only laser pistol was the Captain's, and nothing else could overcome the clubs made from furniture that the hijackers wielded.
"Give up. Captain!" the spokesman for the hijackers called, standing at the doorway. "Or we will—"
The Captain drew his pistol and fired. But Obelia, seeing her lover about to be cut down, leaped across and pushed his arm, fouling his aim. The beam missed, ricocheting off the wall, as Basil dived for cover.
"You kill one of them, there'll be no limit to what they'll do!" she exclaimed, though in truth she would not have acted if she hadn't come to know and appreciate Basil so well. She was shocked that he should turn out to be a hijacker, but that did not erode his appeal. He was like a bold robber who loved a captive lady. It was downright romantic, in a way.
Outraged by her interference, the Captain pushed her away and retreated to his bastion: the cabinet where he kept the master spell that enabled the saucer to defy both gravity and inertia so that it could fly comfortably between the Earth and the Moon. Without that spell, the hijackers could not operate the saucer—and they could not approach it as long as the Captain had his laser ready.
The hijackers knew they had just two hours to gain that spell and move the saucer before a police ship came to complicate things. Their bargaining position would deteriorate sharply after that. "Send out an emissary!" their leader called.
The Captain's eye fell on Obelia. "You're it," he said gruffly. "You like them so much, you go talk to them!"
Obelia was nervous about going out there, but had no choice. She went. "What do you want?" she asked the glowering hijacker leader. Basil was gone, no doubt to see to guarding the crew or passengers, and she was just as glad, because she didn't want others on either side to know of the relationship between them.
"We want the master spell, you ninny!" the hijacker barked. "Tell him to hand it over!"
"But you know he won't do that!" she said, afrighted.
"Tell him that we will kill one hostage every five minutes until he does."
She returned to the Captain, who was covering the door with his laser; any other person who tried to enter would get shot. "They say—" Obelia faltered. "They say they will—will kill a hostage every—"
"And they'll take the whole ship if I give them the master spell!" he replied. "I'll never do it!"
"I don't like the look of this," Orlene said. "Are innocent people really going to die?"
"They really are," Nicolai said. "But fewer this way than otherwise. We had to choose between evils."
Obelia returned the Captain's message to the hijacker. "I thought he'd say that!" the man said. "Bring up the first hostage!"
Two other hijackers brought up an elderly man who looked frightened and bewildered. Without ceremony, the leader clubbed the man over the head, so hard that there was little doubt he was dead. Then he picked up the corpse and heaved it through the doorway so the Captain could see it. "Ask him again!" he cried, shoving her after.
Obelia, terrified and sickened, stumbled through the doorway to deliver the message.
The Captain was adamant, knowing that his only hope was to keep the master spell away from the hijackers. "If I give it to them, they'll have no limit to what they can do; all of us may die as they rob and wreck the saucer! I will not do it!"
Obelia returned to the hijackers. The leader nodded. They brought up a middle-aged female passenger, who screamed as she saw the club descending. It made no difference; her body joined the other.
"This is terrible!" Orlene exclaimed. "Can't we stop them some way?"
Nicolai looked grim. "We cannot. I think Atropos is showing us the worst of her dilemmas. I have seen death before, but I do not like this. I tolerate it only because I have seen the threads and know there is no other way."
"No other way!" Orlene exclaimed. "Where is God? How does He tolerate this?"
"That is a question to which I would very much like to know the answer!"
The impasse continued until four passengers were dead. Then the hijacker leader tried another tack. He grabbed Obelia and marched her before him to the doorway. "Tell him that you will be the next!" he snarled.
Obelia had seen the brutal deaths of the others and had become to an extent numbed and resigned. She went to the Captain. "I am to be the next hostage killed," she said.
"What do you think of them now?" he asked grimly. "Sorry you saved that one?"
She thought of Basil, and was hurt and ashamed. She had really been getting to like him, and all the time he had been a brutal hijacker, planning this slaughter! What she had taken for genuine interest must have been no more than a contemptuous dalliance on his part. "I made a mistake," she said dully. "Now I will pay for it." In fact it seemed to her that she was about to pay for her entire frivolous life. What had she ever done to benefit anyone except herself?
"You don't have to go back there!" the Captain protested, regretting his curtness. "They can't get you here."
"They will just murder someone else in my place," she said. She walked back toward the doorway.
"Don't go!" the Captain cried. "I forbid it!" He swung the pistol to cover her.
She hardly paused. "What will you do—kill me? Keep your conscience clean, Captain; they will do the job for you." She continued walking.
"I can't give them the master spell!"
"I know. I agree." She passed through the door.
The hijacker leader was waiting. "What's he say?" he asked eagerly.
"It wouldn't be ladylike to repeat his exact words," she said with the wannest of smiles. "But to paraphrase: he analyzed your simian ancestry in some detail, and described rather graphically a solitary vice you should practice to the point of expiration."
"Don't be cute, slut! What's his decision?" Obelia, expecting to be clubbed momentarily, found herself at a loss for an answer, so Orlene prompted her: "When God kisses Satan and the Incarnations applaud, maybe then."
In rage, the man lifted his gore-soiled club. Obelia closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, determined not to flinch. This was her single stand for justice, decency and a worthwhile life, however brief; this much, at least, she could do with style.
There was a thud, but she felt nothing. She opened her eyes—and there was the hijacker leader, unconscious, with Basil standing over him. "There wasn't supposed to be any killing," he said. "But when it started, I figured I couldn't do anything about it. But when you—oh, God, honey, I don't care if I rot in prison forever, I couldn't let him do it to you! I'm through with this business!"
Dazed, she protested. "But the other hijackers—"
"Tell the Captain to come out here with his laser, and we'll take them one by one. They won't know what hit them!"
Obelia hurried in to the chamber. "Captain, Basil—the one I saved—he's changed sides! Come out and he'll help you take the others captive!"
"A likely trick!" the Captain snorted. "I'll not be fooled by that!"
"But he means it!"
"Then tell him to come in here!"
Obelia went back and told him. Basil nodded. "He's got no call to trust me. Tell him to hold his fire; I'm dragging this hulk in there."
She told the Captain, who watched alertly while Basil dragged in the leader. Then Basil stood. "Captain, I'm a hijacker, sure. But she saved my life, and I saved hers. If you come out to where you can ambush the four others, I'll lure them in one at a time, and it'll be over with no more bloodshed."
"I'm not moving away from this cabinet!" the Captain said. "You mean it, you lure them into this room!"
"All right. Obelia, you go to the others one at a time, tell them Alex says the Captain's still holding out, and to bring in one more hostage each. Quick, before they start catching on that no one's returning!"
Obelia scurried out, still amazed at this turn of events. She had done right to save Basil! He did love her!
She approached a hijacker who was guarding the crewmen, locked in their barracks. "Alex says to bring another hostage."
"Damn! It wasn't supposed to come to this!" But the man collared a steward and hauled him toward the Captain's chamber, leaving the others locked up. Obelia followed, knowing the hijacker wouldn't trust her in the vicinity by herself.
The hijacker saw the four bodies. "Hey—where's Alex?"
"In there," Obelia said. "Now he wants them where the Captain can see them."
The hijacker seemed doubtful, but the bodies were evidence that Alex was busy. He pushed his frightened prisoner ahead of him.
As they entered the Captain's chamber, the Captain's laser covered the man. "Drop your club."
"But—"
"Drop it," Basil echoed. "You are now the Captain's prisoner. He'll hole you if you make a move."
The hijacker dropped his club and went to stand by Alex, who was now starting to recover.
Obelia went out for the next, and the scene was played again. It was surprisingly easy. The hijackers obeyed the word of their leader, and weren't unusually smart. In twenty minutes all of them were captive and the siege was over.
The total number of lives lost was six: the four murdered hostages, and one crewman who had been struck down during the initial phase, and an elderly woman who had suffered a heart attack when she realized what was going on.
"I was sorry I missed you," the Captain told Basil. "But Obelia was right; you did good work, and I will testify on your behalf. I don't think you'll spend time in prison."
"Thank you, sir. But I did get into this to make money, and I'll take my punishment."
"You may find yourself with money anyway," Obelia murmured, taking his arm.
Atropos reappeared. "We are agreed: you have good judgment, Nicolai. You may assume the Aspect." She stepped through the wall of the saucer, and Orlene and Nicolai were hauled after.
This time there was no transition; they were abruptly back at Nicolai's hut. "We shall set a golem to resemble you," Atropos said. "You will seem to have died naturally." She flung more webbing, and it formed into an image of the man, lying on his bunk, unmoving. "Do you wish to leave a message?"
"No. I am old; they know I am due to die soon. Let it be this way."
Atropos stepped through the wall again, and again they were hauled after, on the invisible web. They arrived in an apartment where a black woman was making a bed. Atropos gestured, and the great skein of the Tapestry of Life appeared. She reached out and touched one thread, moving it slightly. She nudged another thread so that it lay in the place just vacated. Then a little pair of clippers appeared in her hand, and she cut that second thread.
The clippers disappeared. She extended her hand to Nicolai. "Take my hand, take my Aspect," she said.
Nicolai grasped her hand. The two stood there for a moment, then let go. Then Nicolai began to change form, coming to resemble Atropos.
She glanced at Orlene. "We made the change, girl," she said. "It's his substance, become mine. He is with Fate."
Orlene looked, and saw the young Clotho, then the middle-aged Lachesis, then the old Nicolai. "But I must masquerade as a woman," he said. He changed, becoming an old gray-haired woman, with a long dark skirt, antique feminine boots, a blouse that looked flat-chested, and a ludicrous little hat. "Will this do?"
Orlene smiled. "It will do. But watch the whiskers."
"Oops." The whiskers disappeared. "But I'd better give the body to one of the others, till I catch on better." Lachesis appeared. "Yes, we shall have some adjusting to do. It will be strange for a while, hiding a man!"
The former Atropos glanced at them. "You folk better get out of here; there's going to be an ugly scene shortly."
"An ugly scene?" Lachesis asked. "You never told us exactly why you had to step down so suddenly."
"Because I saw something you weren't looking for, and it wasn't right to use my office to change it, but it had to be changed. My daughter remarried, and I thought he was a good man, but he turned bad, and started beating her, and now he's going to beat her too hard. So I switched out the threads. Go on, get out of here!"
Lachesis faded out, but did not leave. She had merely become invisible, and Orlene with her. "And give that girl her thread!" the woman called. "She earned it!"
The woman who was making the bed looked up. "What?" she said, as the magic surrounding the former Atropos faded, leaving her solid and visible. Then: "Ma! But you died ten years ago!"
"Not quite. I came back to do you one more favor, girl. Now you be sure to testify to what you see—and tell them the background too."
"The what?"
"That man's been beating you nigh to death! Think I don't see those scars? Tonight he's going to beat you too hard and kill you—only I'm going to free you from him."
"But—" Then the man returned. He had been drinking, and he staggered, but he had plenty of energy remaining for belligerence. "Get out here, woman!" he yelled.
The woman started forward, but ex-Atropos blocked her. "He's going to kill you this time!" she warned. "He's going to hit you too hard and then claim you fell. You'll be better off free of him—and you will be, once he's in jail for manslaughter. Stay back." Then she marched out to meet her son-in-law. "You good-for-nothing drunken bum! You crazy wife-beater! You cheat on her, you treat her like dirt, and then you come home and mess her up some more! I always knew you were no good, and now you're worse! Now pack up your things and get your tail out of here, you slime!" She continued, getting more specific and more insulting, making it quite clear where he stood with her and how far away she wanted him to get from her daughter.
He hit her, of course. Ex-Atropos was old, and deprived of the protection she had enjoyed as an Incarnation, she went down without a sound.
"Time to go," Lachesis said sadly. "But we must help her!" Orlene protested. "No. She is dead. That was her own thread she cut." Then Orlene understood. Atropos had substituted her own thread of life for that of her daughter—so that she would not have to cut her daughter's thread. Now the man would pay the penalty for murdering her, while her daughter survived to make a better life.
Vita had been correct: that old lady didn't fool around. They arrived back in the webbed Abode. "You have seen more than outsiders usually do," Lachesis said. "You have seen our challenge and our pain. But you have also helped us in a significant manner, and you have earned your thread. We will hold it for you until you have the acquiescence of the other Incarnations. Now you must go, for we have much to resolve, and we prefer to do it by ourselves."
Orlene could well understand! That saucer hijacking, and that change of Aspects—and the sudden death of the woman who had been Atropos. "Thank you, grandmother," she said, and left immediately.
I think we'd better take a break, Jolie thought.
That's for sure! Vita agreed. Those Incarnations—they've got real jobs to do! It isn't all peaches and cream for them, any more than for us!
"Amen," Orlene agreed, shaken.