Niobe's life as Clotho settled in comfortably enough, now that she had made the necessary emotional decisions. Each Aspect slept for six or eight hours, and they generally staggered these, so that at any given moment one Aspect would be dominant—would have the body—and another would be keeping her conscious company, while the third would be tuned out or asleep. For convenience they generally proceeded from sleep, to company, to dominant, so that an Aspect could be fully alert and ready the moment she took over the body. Thus Niobe, as Clotho, would sleep, then keep Atropos company for her shift, then assume the office while Atropos slept and Lachesis kept her company. Sometimes they varied it, and special circumstances caused them all to wake or sleep together, but normally the routine held.
Niobe liked the other two. They talked with each other a lot, comparing notes on experiences and feelings. The other two had eavesdropped on Niobe's first engagement with Chronos, for this was as novel to them as to her. They had indeed not conspired to put her in that position; they had not been having an affair with Chronos. Evidently he, in the progress of his life toward their past, had not been interested in the to-him new Clotho. "But the body is only the body," Lachesis said philosophically, as Niobe spun her Thread of Life from the supply of yarn she had fetched from the Void. "You are young, you like to think that there is only one man for each woman and one woman for each man, but any combination can occur, and couple, and love. In this office we are forced to be less romantic and more pragmatic."
"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, tfiere 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 slack-time 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 In- carnation could not sire a baby, because of the freeze on aging—a baby would never develop beyond the single cell 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 looked 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 Incarnation, 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.
Niobe was uneasy. The prophecy had said "possess" rather than "marry"; if he did not marry the most beautiful woman, how would he associate with her? But she kept her misgivings to herself.
The following year, when Junior was eleven, Blanche gave birth to a baby girl. From the start, Blenda was dazzling, certainly the prettiest baby in the vicinity. She grew into a stunning child. If Pace hadn't married the prettiest woman, he seemed to have fathered her, and in that sense possessed her. Blenda was the talk of the county.
Junior was now an only child, for Pacian and Blanche lived separately. It was a considerable adjustment for him at first, for his cousin/brother had been much of his family. He knew that his natural father was dead, and his natural mother absent, but his identity was with his cousin's family. He turned inward, focusing even more on his pursuit of magic. Niobe hated to see him lonely, but could do nothing; she had given him up, and, anyway, it was the sort of adjustment a person had to make in life. But Atropos seemed to take it harder than Niobe herself did. The old woman had really come to like the boy and missed the threesome adventures. Perhaps by no coincidence, Atropos decided to retire from her Aspect. "I've had enough of immortality," she said.
Lachesis searched the Tapestry, and located a widowed grandmother who would do. They went to visit her, in the form of Atropos. The woman listened gravely while Atropos explained her nature and her desire. "But if what you say is true, I will become immortal and you will die of old age!" the woman pointed out. "Why would you seek such a bargain?"
"It is true that I will not survive long as a mortal," Atropos agreed. "But I have lived fifteen years beyond my time, and I have no fear of the Afterlife. I know I have done well enough and will see Heaven and I am ready for it."
They showed the woman their other two forms, and she was duly impressed. "Do you mean that I can be young again, and be like that? I have never seen a woman as beautiful!"
Niobe had the body now. "You can share with me," she explained. "But I will govern; you will be an observer, just as I will be an observer when you govern. But after a while we seem to overlap; we become in effect a single person with alternate forms. In that sense you can become me, if you wish."
The woman shook her head. "I am astonished. Let me think about it."
She thought about it for a week, then put her affairs in order and joined Fate. No complexities of meeting were necessary, as this was not a person Satan opposed; Niobe had been a special case. This time Niobe watched from inside as Lachesis took the woman's hand, and her essence entered them, while the old Atropos departed. In a moment the Atropos they had known stood before them, a separate person, molded from the flesh of the mortal woman. Again there were tears; however voluntary the transition was, there was sorrow in it too. They separated.
It took time to break in the new Atropos, and to get to know her well. Now Niobe knew what the others had gone through when she had joined. It wasn't good or bad, it was mainly a lot of work and adjustment, for the personality of the total entity of Fate had made a significant shift. The fascination with opera was gone; new interests took its place. It was months before they were really comfortable as a group. But the process did serve to distract Niobe's attention from Junior for a while, for she was too busy to visit the mortals on any but a strictly business basis.
When Niobe did go to visit Junior again, she had to do it in her own form, for the new Atropos had no interest in this matter. Lachesis would have helped, but they decided it was better to save her as a reserve, in case it should be necessary to change identity quickly. So Niobe donned a wig and applied makeup to make herself look older.
She discovered that the prior Atropos, the one she had known in office, had settled in Ireland, and was now visiting Junior as a mortal. They still enjoyed attending plays together, and she was able to provide magical materials for him that he could not otherwise obtain. They went regularly to visit the hamadryad of the water oak.
Niobe considered that situation, and decided to let well enough alone. Atropos really did like the boy, and would see that no harm came to him. "Bless you," Niobe murmured to herself. Then she reconsidered, and visited the old woman privately to repeat the sentiment aloud.
"Well, you know my own kin wouldn't know me anymore," Atropos said. "They think I died fifteen years ago. I'm a grandmother; I need to practice my art."
Evidently so. But Niobe kissed her anyway.
Time passed. Junior grew to adulthood. He specialized in magic when he attended the same college Cedric had, and showed similar brilliance. He progressed beyond the level of his professors. For his Ph.D. project he developed the spell that enabled the deer to shoot back: any missile discharged, whether from bow, gun, or hand, swung around to score on the hunter. Suddenly hunting lost its appeal, not only in the local wetlands, but in all wetlands and most of the remaining wilderness of the world. Similarly developers were balked; their bulldozers tended to crash back on their starting points, unable to penetrate far into the living wilderness. Junior made an A for the project, and the construction industry filed a lawsuit against the college. In the end they had to compromise: the deer-magic would be applied only to those regions officially designated as parks. But the closest one was so designated immediately. Junior had fulfilled his father's ambition. The hamadryad was so thrilled she gave him a kiss, then hid in the deepest foliage for three days, blushing.
Junior became Magician Kaftan, a professional enchanter of stones. His business increased; soon he was filling orders from all over the world. He did not become famous because he maintained a low profile; the lawsuit against the college had taught him caution. The stones were merely a business to support his continuing researches into magic. He was fast becoming the most formidable magician in the world. Magic was all he cared about, especially after Grandma Atropos passed away. He would disappear into his laboratory and not reappear for days.
Concerned, Niobe went to visit him. She wore her wig and makeup, but he recognized her instantly. "Hello, Mother! How is Fate treating you?"
She sighed. Her son the Magician was now thirty-four years old, eleven years older than she, physically, and he was a genius in his trade. Perhaps she should not have been surprised; his father had been brilliant, and Junior had had unique schooling along the way, beginning with the hamadryad. Naturally he had researched his own lineage, and discovered exactly what had happened to his mother.
"I am doing well," she said. "But you. Junior—I wish you would not seal yourself off from the world so much. It's not healthy."
He smiled, prepared to indulge her in small matters. "What would you have me do. Mother?"
"Socialize a little, at least with your friends and relatives! How long has it been since you visited the water oak?"
"Five years," he confessed.
"And how long since you've seen Pacian?"
He counted off on his fingers. "A decade. It wasn't the same, after he married."
"Well, go see them," she urged. "You owe a lot to the hamadryad, and Pacian is a good man, with a nice family." She studied him with motherly solicitude. "Speaking of which—when are you going to marry?"
"When I encounter the most beautiful woman of her generation," he said, smiling. "According to the prophecy." It was evident that he no longer credited the prophecies. Possibly he had researched them, too, using his superior magic, but she doubted it. That wasn't his type of magic, and it was difficult for any person to research his own destiny; paradox closed in rapidly.
"Well, all in good time. I want you to visit your cousin, at least," she said firmly. "He was very good to you."
He nodded, remembering. "He was, indeed. Very well, Mother, I will visit the water oak and Pacian."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"And soon," she said, and changed into arachnid form and slid up her thread to Purgatory. There was no point in concealing her magic from him anymore.
The Magician was as good as his word. The following day he phoned Pace, and later that week they had a reunion. In the interim he visited the water oak. The hamadryad was glad to see him, though the passage of years made her diffident. "Mother tells me I should get married," he said, and she nodded agreement. "But where on Earth will I find a mortal woman as beautiful as you?" She shrugged and blushed, forgiving him his five years neglect; even immortals were subject to flattery.
At the reunion he met Blenda. He had seen her as a baby and occasionally as a child. Now she was twentythree, the same age as Niobe's body, and she was so beautiful she seemed to light the room she entered. It would have taken an expert to judge between her and the hamadryad—but she was mortal. She smiled shyly at the visiting Magician—and worked on him a magic more fundamental than any he had studied.
They were married the following year. Niobe attended the wedding, at her son's request, doing it in her own guise, as no one would recognize her now. After all, she was fifty-eight years old, chronologically; who would ever believe she could be the mother of the groom? But Pacian, the father of the bride, gave her a single piercing look, then shrugged, not able to believe the wild thought that had touched his mind.
It was a lovely wedding. Niobe sat alone in the crowd, in the section reserved for the groom's relatives, and cried. When the two exchanged vows, she could hardly contain herself. "I am losing my son!" she sobbed. More than one head turned to face her, perplexed.
Between the wedding and the reception, they posed for pictures. The groom could not present any proud parents for this; the family he had known belonged to his cousin, the father of the bride. "Indulge me, dear," he murmured to Blenda, and beckoned to Niobe. She approached uncertainly, stifling tears.
"This is a blood relative; she can pose in lieu."
So Niobe stood beside Blenda and smiled, and Blenda smiled—and there was a murmur of awe through the assemblage. "Look at them!" a woman exclaimed. "Like twins in beauty!"
Niobe realized it was true. She had been said to be the loveliest of her generation, and Blenda of hers. Niobe's hair was dark amber, like buckwheat honey, while Blenda's was light amber, like clover honey; with both, it flowed loose to the slender waist, and both sets of eyes were bright blue. They were a match of feature and figure, like two scintillating gems. It was a remarkable coincidence.
The photographers went on to other subjects, and Niobe and Blenda had a moment together. "Please," the girl begged. "Tell me who you are! Kaf said he had a beautiful relative, but I never suspected—"
Niobe had of course checked Blenda's thread of life, and knew she was a fine person all around, as her mother was. She could be trusted, and she deserved to know. "You will find this hard to believe—"
"After seeing Kafs magic, I can believe much!"
"I am his mother."
Blenda's perfect mouth dropped open. She looked across the room at her new husband, who nodded gravely, though he could not have overheard their dialogue. Then she recovered. "Oh—a youth spell! Of course! He said his mother was the most—but you know that, of course!"
"And his father was as handsome and intelligent as any," Niobe said, feeling the tears begin again. "Like yours. It is not a youth spell, precisely. I never aged. I became an Incarnation. That's why I had to give up my baby."
"An—?"
"Fate."
"Fate!" Blenda's eyes widened in realization. "Did you arrange—?"
"For my son to marry you? Not in that manner! I simply told him to get back in touch with his closest friend, his cousin Pace, and the rest happened. I confess I wasn't even thinking of you, but I'm glad it happened. You are worthy of him, dear, and it does fill the prophecy."
"Prophecy?"
"That my son would possess the most beautiful woman of her generation, and have a daughter who would be the most talented of her type and love an Incarnation."
"My father mentioned a prophecy," Blenda said. "But he said he foiled it."
"Prophecies are hard to foil," Niobe said. "Certainly it seems to be coming true for my son, and if the rest follows, your daughter will consort with the Incarnation of Death or Evil. That is not necessarily bad, horrendous as it may sound. But she is also to be the savior of man and to stand athwart a tangled skein. Since there is an entity who objects to the salvation of man, she could be in danger."
Blenda made a soundless whistle. "I shall do my best to protect her! In fact, I will consider carefully before I bear her. I thank you for telling me of this prophecy. I had not known the full nature of it."
"No one ever knows the full nature of a prophecy— until it is too late."
They kissed, then moved on to the reception chamber, where Blenda had to rejoin her husband and cut the monstrous cake. She picked up the knife, and the groom put his hand on hers, and they brought it to the outer layer.
"Hold!" the Magician exclaimed. "There is evil here!" He drew his bride back and brought out a stone.
There was a hush. The Magician held the stone high and moved it in a circle. When it approached the cake, it glowed brilliantly. He nodded; there was the focus of evil.
"Go to your parents," the Magician said tersely. "This may be messy."
"I knew cake was fattening, but..." Blenda murmured. She went to join Pacian and Blanche, and the three watched anxiously from one side, while Niobe and other guests watched from the front. What was wrong with that cake?
The Magician brought out another stone and held it carefully before him. Suddenly a beam of light speared out from the stone, into the center of the cake.
There was a crackle of scorching frosting. Then the cake exploded. Splotches of icing sprayed out, plastering ceiling. Magician, and guests. Someone screamed. From the cake leaped a demon. The thing had red skin, a barbed tail, and a horrendously horned head. With an inchoate roar it leaped at the Magician—and bounced away from an invisible shield. Naturally the adept had seen to his own protection.
"So you refuse to die. Kaftan!" the demon cried, its voice so guttural that it was barely comprehensible. "But it takes two to make a child!" It whirled on Blenda, making a prodigious leap.
The Magician threw a stone at his bride. "Catch it!" he cried.
Blenda, almost frozen in terror, moved automatically to catch the stone just before the demon landed. The demon bounced again, for now she had the protection stone. The monster rolled off the side of the invisible sphere—and came down on Blanche. Its outsized mouth opened, and its terrible fangs closed on the woman's throat. Blood spurted.
"Mother!" Blenda shrieked in absolute horror.
Then the Magician brought another stone into play. Blue radiance spread from it to encompass the demon— and the demon screamed and melted into a bubbling puddle.
But it was too late. The bride's mother was dead. The demon had gotten neither its primary nor its secondary target, but had wrought terrible mischief in its failure.
