"Now I will take you to Gaea's green mansion." She flung another strand, took his hand again, and slid the two of them across the pleasant landscape of Purgatory. She remembered how Chronos had taken her from Incarnation to Incarnation, so long ago—his parting favor for her, laying the basis for her eventual understanding. In the interim since then, a significant segment of the Tapestry had moved by!
They arrived at the edge of the Green Mother's demesne. Before them a hillside slope dropped into a broad valley covered with waving grain. On the far slope of the valley stood Gaea's vegetable palace. All they had to do was cross.
They started down. "You can't fling a web across?" Pacian inquired.
"Not here. Ge protects her environment, so it can be a challenge to reach her."
"You have not been here before?"
"Oh, yes, many times. We often consult. But this time I'm bringing you along, so her defense system has been activated. It's just her way."
"Nature does have her way," he agreed.
"All the Incarnations do."
He shook his head with mock wonder. "All this—up in the clouds!"
"This is not in the clouds; it just seems that way. Purgatory is between Heaven and Hell, but it is impossible to define their locations. For convenience, we think of Heaven as above. Hell below, and Purgatory between."
"And I suppose this isn't really physical, either."
"It's indeterminate. You and I are alive and solid, but many of the others who seem that way are neither."
He paused and turned to her. "Niobe, I am glad after all these years to learn where you have been. I can appreciate now why you had so little time for mortal matters."
"I had time for mortal matters!" she said defensively. "I was spinning the threads of life!"
"Of course," he agreed, and she felt guilty for her sharp comment. He was a good and decent man, not looking for any quarrel. It was hardly his fault that she still thought of him, in a sense, as a twelve-year-old boy. She had not changed, physically, but he had.
They reached the level floor of the valley and waded into the grass. At the first step it was knee-high; at the second, waist-high; at the third, chest-high.
They stopped. "Oh-oh," Niobe said. "I forgot about the challenge. It's not a matter of just walking across. There's no telling how deep this valley really is."
"It could be a V-shaped valley—concealed by level grass?"
"It could be. Ge can do anything she wants with plants."
"Then we can walk under the grass," he said. "It's not far."
"We'll have to," she agreed uncertainly.
They proceeded. The slope continued, while the height of the grass rose until it was taller than they were. Soon it was twice their height, the long, thin stems giving way elastically before them so that the broader blades at the top were undisturbed. The light dimmed as they went deeper; it was like descending into an ocean, toward the utter dark at the bottom.
Niobe put her foot down—and found nothing. "Oh!" she exclaimed as she lost her balance.
Pacian's strong hand caught her windmilling arm, and he drew her back. Then he squatted to check the ground. "There is a dropoff," he reported. "About a yard, here— but I suspect that is only the beginning. We need a light."
Niobe extended a glowing strand of web. Its light was not great, but it was enough. It showed that the even slope was converting to a treacherous pattern of rocks and crevices.
They moved on down, now holding hands for safety. When they reached a dropoff of more than six feet, Niobe spun a strong thread and looped it about Pacian's waist. Then he braced himself to support her weight while she lowered herself down. After that, he knotted the web to the stout base of a grass-stem and let himself down. She was unable to dematerialize, here.
Now the gloom was Stygian indeed! She had to extend several glowing strands to illuminate the ground clearly, for even a small hole could trap a foot and break an ankle. Even so, it was no fun.
Then the ground shuddered.
They paused. "What's that?" Niobe whispered nervously.
"The tread of a monster," he whispered back. "Now I believe in live and let live; I value the wilderness as my cousin did, as the Magician does now. But the denizens do not necessarily feel the same way."
"No, they don't!" she agreed. "And we are in some kind of channel or ledge, here in the gloom, without defensive means. Pace, let's get out of here!"
"Agreed!"
They hastened up the slope the way they had come. Pacian gave her a boost up the line they had left, though she didn't need it; she climbed her threads magically. But he was being unconsciously chivalrous, and she appreciated the gesture. In a moment he followed, climbing up hand over hand. The thread, so thin it was almost invisible, was spelled not to cut flesh, and he was in good condition for his age. He had no trouble.
The ground shuddered again; the monster was coming closer.
They rejoined hands and hurried up the slope, following the line she had left. There was no way to tell how close the monster was; the shuddering was everywhere. Panting, they scrambled out of the grass and into the sunshine.
"Oh!" Niobe gasped. "I was so frightened!"
"Aren't you invulnerable, as an Incarnation?"
She laughed. "Of course I am! How silly of me to forget!" Then she frowned. "But you aren't."
He smiled, reminding her fleetingly of Cedric. They were, of course blood kin; if Cedric had lived to this age... "Just as well we hurried, then," he said. Somehow they both knew that they were safe in the bright light;
the monster would not leave the shelter of the deep grass.
She looked across at Gaea's treehouse, so near and yet so far away. "But we still need to get across."
Pacian considered. "You know, that looks like a roving ocean. The surface ripples in waves under the wind."
"Too bad we can't sail across it," she joked.
"Can't we? If this is a magic challenge—"
Her mouth dropped open. "It could be!"
He looked about. "Perhaps a raft. I see some driftwood." He walked over to the bonelike branches of a dead tree and began collecting them. "This wood is strong and light. If we lash pieces together—"
"I have threads," she said. "They'll work for that. Do you really think it will float—on grass?"
"With magic, anything is possible," he said cheerfully. It was evident that he liked a challenge. He was more animated now than she had seen him in the past two years.
As Pacian worked, he commented on a river-crossing riddle that this effort brought to mind. Niobe remembered that one from her days with Cedric. "All right," Pacian said, smiling. "Then try this one: A coin dealer has twelve coins, one of which is counterfeit..." He defined the problem for her, and she struggled without success until he explained the key step in the solution. He had the same joy in such puzzles that Cedric had had.
As they talked, he arranged the larger branches to make a framework, which she bound together with lengths of her thread. Then they tied smaller branches on until they had a raft about six feet square. They saved two long, thin branches to use as poles, and several more for paddles. "But a sail would be better," he said.
That reminded her of her voyage across the college lake, on the patched-up sailboat. She was not reassured.
There was no suitable material for a sail. With time and a loom she could have woven one from her threads, but of course she had no loom here. They heaved the raft onto the surface of the thick grass—and it floated. "That's it!" Pacian exclaimed. "It would never work without magic; this isn't real water. But your friend Nature has enchanted it as a challenge, and we have found the key."
Had they? Niobe hoped so. Pacian helped her aboard, and they shoved off. The raft floated somewhat uncertainly, and the feel was not the same as for water, but they were on their way.
Poling got them well into it, but then they went beyond the depth the poles could reach. Pacian sat down, hooked his feet into the twisted plankin
g, and set up the two longest paddles as oars. "Um, we need to anchor them," he said. Niobe saw the problem. She knelt and tied the oars to the edges with more loops of thread, so that they swung on crude fulcrums. Then Pacian started rowing—and the raft moved. The oars tended to slide past the leaves of grass, but there was enough friction to make it work. They were on their way, again.
There was a jet of vapor down the valley. "There she blows!" Niobe exclaimed. Then she had a second thought. What kind of whale would swim in grass?
Pacian had the same thought. He accelerated his rowing, but the clumsy raft moved slowly, while a second plume erupted, closer. The whale was coming toward them!
"Is that coincidence?" Niobe asked worriedly.
"Here? I doubt it," he puffed. "I don't think we can outrun it." She was alarmed. Pacian ceased rowing. His face was red from his effort. "Another challenge?" he gasped. "I'm—afraid so. And this time we can't retreat. It would catch us in a moment."
He hefted a paddle, pondering. "I suppose I could try to fend it off," he said. "If it's big enough to take a bite of us, it's big enough to get a paddle or a pole wedged edgewise in its mouth. But I don't like molesting wildlife. After all, we are intruders on its preserve."
"You're a soft-hearted fool!" she chided him.
"It runs in the family," he agreed without rancor.
She was stricken. He was right. Once Cedric had taken to the wilderness, he had refused to harm any of it. And Junior's long association with the hamadryad of the water oak had left him with a profound appreciation of the magic of the wetlands. She herself felt the same. Pacian was very much in that mold.
The leviathan drew near. Its huge snout broke the surface of the grass. The thing was big enough to swallow them whole, raft and all!
"They say that music has charms to soothe the savage breast," Pacian said. "That is most often misquoted as 'savage beast.' It just may be worth a try, rather than futile force."
Niobe liked the way his mind worked, but the leviathan terrified her. Already its ponderous jaws were cranking open. "You mean—sing it a song?"
"Sounds silly, I know—but it's harmless, at least. I have sung to the animals on the farm with some success. We can always try to fight, as a last resort. Have you any idea what it might like?"
Doing requests, for a monster? Niobe found her mind largely blank. "I—maybe a round—"
He nodded agreement. He faced the leviathan as if about to deliver a speech. He sang, crudely but adequately:
"Have you seen the ghost of Tom?
Round white bones with the flesh all gone!
O - O - O - O - O - O - O!
Wouldn't it be chilly with no skin on!"
Niobe started to laugh, hysterically. To sing a Halloween song to a monster!
The leviathan paused in place. The jaws stopped opening. It was listening, and like some animals, it could not focus its attention on two things at once.
"Have you seen the ghost of Tom?" Pacian sang, with greater volume and confidence. This time Niobe picked up on it, repeating the first line as Pacian continued with the second line, for it was indeed a round. It worked out rather prettily, despite the macabre and foolish words.
They went through it three times, and the leviathan did not move. Whether it liked the song was uncertain; perhaps mere curiosity held it. But that was certainly preferable to an attack.
When they stopped, the jaws slowly resumed motion. Quickly Pacian started another song, one long beloved in his culture:
"O Danny-Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,
From glen to glen and down the mountainside..."
Niobe joined in, making the harmony. She had not sung like this since her mortal days, and had almost forgotten how grand it was.
"The summer's gone, and all the leaves are falling..."
Pacian turned while singing, and reached to take her hand.
"'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide."
And Niobe was transfixed as the song abruptly expanded to magnificent sound. He had the magic! The same phantom orchestra that Cedric had had when he sang. The same phenomenal magnification of the music!
Of course! This, too, ran in the family! Not in every member, for her son did not have it. But here and there. She had never guessed! No wonder Pace could pacify animals!
The leviathan was aware of it too. Slowly, now, its jaws subsided, no longer menacing the raft. They had indeed found a way to soothe the beast.
But Niobe's attention was only partly on that. She had thought she would never love again, after Cedric. Now, suddenly, amazingly, she knew it was possible. The prophecy had not been based on what she knew, but on what she would discover.
They finished the song, and the internal music faded. The leviathan did not resume its aggression, but Niobe now had need of more music. She clung to Pacian's hand, and started a song.
"In the gloaming, O my darling, when the lights are dim and low..."
He joined the song and the music rose in them and surrounded them.
"Will you think of me, and love me, as you did once long ago?"
Even as she sang, Niobe felt the love expanding from her long-isolated heart, encompassing her being. The beginning of her love for Cedric had come with the magic music. She had not seized upon it, then, and so had wasted much of the scant time they had had together. She was much older, and perhaps wiser now—and she found herself entering into it as into a primeval sea, gladly giving herself to its tide. O my darling...
When the song ended and the music faded again, the leviathan was satisfied. It backed off slowly and turned about, and swam away.
"It seems we have navigated the crisis," Pacian said. "Now we can go to meet Mother Nature." He reached for the oars.
Niobe put her hand on his arm again. "Pace—do we need to?"
He considered, then laughed. Then he drew her in to him, and they kissed. The grand music encompassed them.
They reversed course and returned to her Abode, and then to the realm of the mortals. As they landed back in his house, he said: "I don't think I'm going to be lonely anymore. But let's not act precipitously."
"This is very sudden," she agreed. "We can afford time to be sure it's real." But she already knew it was.
He nodded. "And if it is—"
"Then I will retire on schedule, to become mortal— and be your wife."
"Fulfilling the prophecy," he agreed.
She left him without further comment. The moment she was alone, a babble broke out among her Aspects. Did you feel that music? He's a rare one! If that's what your first love was like, no wonder you waited for his like! We'll have to locate your successor, whatshername. Lisa. When's the wedding?
"Enough, you hens!" Niobe exploded. "It's tentative!"
Lachesis snorted. As tentative as a pregnancy, girl! Indeed, all that developed over the course of the following months was certainty. Niobe visited Pacian several times, and each time it was as if another layer of love was added. "I do love you. Pace," she said. "I must marry you."
"I thought I would never be whole again, after I lost Blanche," he said. "But it is no denigration of her to confess that now I love you as I did her. When I was a child I adored you hopelessly; now I am a man I have reason to live again. It is as if you were saved for the time in my life when I would most need you." He paused. "Is that coincidence?"
She shook her head. "I am an Aspect of Fate—but my power is limited. Lachesis handles the disposition of the threads of life I spin—but her power too is limited. It was Satan's interference that caused me to lose my spouse, and you yours. Fate never planned those horrors, and now the Tapestry is healing."
"Yet the prophecy—"
She sighed. "Yes, there must be a deeper current of Fate, beyond our awareness, that the seers drew from. Maybe our manipulations of the Threads of Life are only to restore the pattern Satan sought to disrupt. It has made for a tangled skein!"
"Which our daughter—and granddaughter—will stand athwart,"
he agreed. "But for the moment, there is only our love."
They kissed, and there was music. He was right; their offspring might be destined for horrendous adventures, but at the moment love made all that beside the point.
In due course, as the time of her departure from office neared, Niobe made it a point to bid adieu to her friends, the other Incarnations. First she went to the Green Mother. This time she had no trouble reaching the domicile of Nature. "You knew, didn't you?" she charged the woman. "You arranged that challenge course!"
"Love is one of my Aspects," Gaea admitted. "I knew your heart and his. I only facilitated what was inevitable."
"So we never even consulted you!"
"Not overtly."
"You are devious, Ge."
"Coming from Fate, that is indeed a compliment."
They embraced, and Niobe cried a little, and they parted. Gaea's face was serene—but when Niobe stepped outside the domicile, she discovered a gentle rain falling, and knew that Ge was crying too.
A few days later, in the course of routine business, she visited Thanatos. Fate worked most intimately with Chronos, but she also had considerable interaction with Thanatos, for the threads had to be terminated as well as started. "I am soon to return to mortality," she said. "I pray you do not come too soon for me or the man I love."
The death's-head smiled. "I will postpone it as long as your successor permits. Who is she to be?"
"I don't know. We are conducting a search, but no suitable prospect named Lisa has shown up."
"Will Lisa be as pretty as you?"
"Not quite. But you are sure to like her."
"I envy you, Clotho. You are able to step down voluntarily, returning to life. I will be assassinated by my successor, even as I assassinated my predecessor."
"Yet it was to Heaven you sent your predecessor, and to Heaven you will go."
"That is a comfort," he agreed.
She embraced him, not repulsed by his skeletal hands, and she kissed his grinning skull-face. His business was grim, but he was a decent person. He was not the same one she had first met, but the office had made him similar.
Her supply of yarn ran low, and she made her monthly trip to the Void for more. She wondered, as she often did, whether this monthly cycle stood in lieu of the feminine cycle that had abated when she became immortal. There were, indeed, patterns she did not understand.