With a Tangled Skein

  “That’s funny!” Orb exclaimed. “The lethal monster swims in Lethe!”

  “Not funny if it catches you,” Luna reminded her.

  “We shall have to swim across,” Niobe said. “The problem is the barrier in the center—we’ll have to dive under it. That means closing the eyes tightly. We’d better do it singly, with the others watching while one dives.”

  “But—our clothing!” Orb protested.

  “You’re right. We’ll have to leave it here. We don’t want to carry the water of Lethe around with us! Also, wet clothing is no fun.”

  “But we have no bathing suits!” Luna said.

  Niobe looked at her. “Dear, soon enough you will be proud to stand nude for self-portraits. There are occasions when modesty is dispensable. This is one such. We are all family and female, and the Mountain King is asleep. No one will see. I daresay this is part of his challenge: have we the courage to go naked to his lair? Remember, the danger is only illusion; if we gulp the water we will not actually forget, we’ll merely disqualify ourselves and have to give up the quest. The real test is modesty.” She proceeded to undress, carefully folding her clothing and setting it well clear of the water.

  Luna shrugged and followed her example, not unduly sensitive about the matter. After a pause. Orb followed suit, obviously less at ease. They were, at this age, in the process of developing, neither women nor children, and were understandably somewhat reticent about exposure. The Mountain King was giving this party a greater variety of challenge than anticipated.

  “Now we can dog-paddle to the barrier,” Niobe said. “Right after the monster passes. Who’s first?”

  Orb shrugged. “I’ll try it. Someone yell if the monster turns back.” They waited, watching for the lethal monster. In a moment it appeared—a globular mass of jelly that seemed to have forgotten its original form. “Ooh, ugh!” Orb exclaimed.

  “It’s only illusion,” Niobe reminded her firmly. “But don’t let it catch you. Now scoot!” She slapped the girl on her bare bottom.

  Startled, Orb stepped into the water and dog-paddled across, glancing nervously after the monster. “Remember—no peeking!” Niobe called. “Keep your eyes closed after you come up on the other side, until you’re sure the water’s clear.”

  Orb nodded, then took half a breath, squinched her eyes shut, and dived. Her legs went up, then slid under. Both girls were good swimmers; it was only the special nature of this challenge that made the swimming awkward. In a moment she came up on the far side, eyes and mouth still firmly closed, and resumed her dog-paddling—in the wrong direction. She was swimming downstream instead of across.

  “You’re going wrong!” Niobe called. “Turn about!”

  The girl, still sightless, didn’t understand. She reversed course, now swimming upstream, making little headway.

  “The monster’s coming back!” Luna whispered.

  “She’ll never avoid it!” Niobe said tersely. “I’ll go get her clear!” She waded in and stroked as swiftly as she could without splashing. Fortunately the monster was slow; she outdistanced it. She closed her mouth and eyes and dived, finding the bottom of the barrier and hauling herself under. Then she angled for the surface in the direction she hoped Orb was. Her head broke water, dripping—and she didn’t dare open her eyes.

  “To your left!” Luna called.

  Niobe lunged left, and encountered one of Orb’s arms.

  “But the monster’s between you and the shore!” Luna called. “You can’t get by it! It’s turning toward you!”

  “This way!” Niobe ordered Orb. “To the barrier!” She side-stroked back, half-hauling the girl along with her other hand. She found the wire. “Climb up it; you don’t need to look!”

  Wordlessly, the girl obeyed. Niobe made sure Orb had hold of the wire, then let go of her and used hands and feet to climb up out of the water.

  Once clear, she used the back of her hand to wipe out both eyes, then cracked one open. Orb was beside her, climbing blindly up the barrier. The monster was below, trying to find them; its limp tentacles flailed about.

  “Up here, idiot!” Niobe told it.

  The monster heard and tried to reach out of the water, but its substance was too flabby for support. It could not extend any part of itself beyond the river. After a while it gave up and drifted on downstream.

  “Very well,” Niobe said. “Orb, clear your eyes and climb down. We’ll swim the rest of the way across.”

  They did so. Then Luna crossed and, with the help of Niobe’s called instructions, managed to avoid all hazards. They had surmounted the second challenge.

  Naked, they proceeded to the third. This one turned out to be awesome; it was a deep chasm, crossed by a narrow rope bridge. They would have to walk or crawl across it. There was another instruction plaque that said: BEWARE OF THE VAMPIRE BAT.

  That needed no clarification. Obviously a bite by that bat would disqualify them—and the bat would attack whoever was on the bridge. But the instructions advised them that one of the magic wands could be used to fend off the bat. Sure enough, there was a rack holding three wands.

  One for each of them. How convenient! Or was it coincidence? Niobe didn’t quite trust this, but saw no alternative to proceeding. They were two-thirds of the way through; it would be a shame to muff it now.

  Orb stared down into the gulf and shuddered. “I don’t think I can—”

  “Nonsense,” Niobe said, though she herself found the depth of the chasm awesome. “Remember—it’s illusion. If you lose your balance, you won’t get hurt; you’ll just be disqualified.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, brightening. “It’s just a flat floor, like the mine caves, and the bridge’s a line through it.”

  “But we’ll be careful, anyway,” Niobe cautioned them.

  “I’ll go first,” Luna volunteered. She took a wand, held it firmly in her right hand, and stepped out on the bridge. It sank beneath her weight, startling her, but she kept her balance and walked on.

  “Ooo, it’s swinging!” she exclaimed as she moved over the gulf. Indeed it was, swinging grandly back and forth like a pendulum.

  “Compensate!” Niobe called. “You’re all right!”

  Luna did, and continued across. At midpoint the bat appeared.

  The thing was huge and ugly. Bright red eyes stared at the prey. The black wings spread out a good yard. As it approached, the draft from those wings blew Luna’s hair back and made her lose confidence.

  “Fend it off with the wand!” Niobe called. “Just stand there, keep your balance, and point the wand at it.”

  Luna tried, but she was now quite nervous. The bat flew at her; she lunged with the wand. The bat sheered away. She lost her balance and started to fall.

  “Grab the bridge!” Niobe cried.

  The girl dropped the wand and grabbed the bridge with both hands, hugging it. The wand plunged into the chasm, slowing turning in the air, taking a long time to fall. Some illusion!

  The bat, seeing the girl helpless, banked and came back.

  Niobe charged out onto the bridge. Her long experience with the threads of Fate made her competent; she wasn’t worried about missing a step or falling. TShe almost dived at the bat as it came down, jamming the end of the wand into its furry body. There was no resistance; the wand passed through. The bat shrieked almost audibly and lurched away, seemingly hurt.

  “Get up, girl,” Niobe snapped. “Go on across.”

  “I can’t!” Luna cried. Indeed, she was in tears. She was a sensible girl, but she was, after all, only twelve.

  “Then crawl across! I’ll protect you.”

  This the girl could do. She scrambled on hands and knees, while Niobe followed her and watched the bat. The creature tried to come in for another pass, looked at Niobe’s militant stance, and stayed clear.

  On the far side, Luna was able to stand again. She was all right.

  “Your turn, Orb,” Niobe called. “Can you make it yourself, or shall I come to help
you?”

  Orb looked at the swinging bridge, and at the hovering bat. “I—you’d better come.”

  Niobe walked back, holding off the bat with a mere glance. It had come to know the difference between a frightened girl and an embattled woman. “All right—walk ahead of me. I’ll protect your rear. Just focus on Luna over there and keep your balance. It’s not hard.”

  “How can you be so brave?” the girl asked, awed.

  “I’m a mother. It comes with the office.”

  It was an offhand quip, but Orb took it seriously. “Having a child makes you brave?”

  “When you have something you would die to protect, it ceases to be a matter of courage,” Niobe explained. “You just know what you have to do and you can’t afford fear.”

  They moved on across. The bat came at them, and Orb cowered. “Get away!” Niobe screamed at the bat. “Or I’ll ram this down your throat, batbrain!”

  It spun in the air and fled. Even illusions could be cowed!

  “Why is it afraid of you?” Orb asked, amazed.

  “Because I wasn’t bluffing,” Niobe answered. “I would wring its neck if it touched you, and it knows it.”

  “Oh, Mother!”

  “Any parent would do the same. You will, when you are one.”

  They made it across. Luna shook her head. “You’ve had to save us each time. Grandma. We’d never have made it alone.”

  “It’s a cooperative effort. But I think you’ll have to win your instruments for yourselves.”

  They walked to the next chapter. There were two cabinets. In one was a paintbrush with a silver handle; in the other was a miniature golden harp.

  “This is it,” Niobe said. “There are your instruments.”

  “But—” Luna said. “How do we—?”

  Niobe looked around. She saw no instruction plaque. “I think you have to figure that out for yourselves.”

  Luna shrugged. She stepped up, opened the cabinet doors, and took the brush. She made a pass in the air— and the brush left a smear of yellow hanging there, unsupported.

  Surprised, she moved the brush again, marking an X across the smear. Black appeared, a big X in air.

  “It makes color from thought!” Luna exclaimed, pleased.

  She went to work seriously, erasing the smear and X with deft strokes, then painting a picture of Niobe. Luna, young as she was, was good; it was a remarkably accurate rendition. Niobe had never seen the girl paint so fast and well before. Of course, she wasn’t totally thrilled to have herself painted nude at the physical age of thirty-six; she had put on some weight and was no longer the most beautiful woman extant. The stretch marks from birthing Orb didn’t help. But she wasn’t in a position to protest; she wanted Luna to paint well enough to win the brush. The instrument was obviously ideal.

  Then Luna added a gauzy halo of almost colorless paint. “What are you doing?” Niobe asked.

  “Painting your aura,” Luna replied.

  “My—?”

  “I can see it, so I’m painting it.”

  Niobe was silent. If what the girl said was true, she had more talent than anyone had judged.

  Luna paused and stepped back. “There,” she said. She had painted a huge seashell partly enclosing the figure. “Nude Grandmother on the half-shell.”

  “For pity’s sake!” Niobe exclaimed with mock annoyance, and Orb giggled.

  Then the picture moved in the air. It tilted, developed a frame, and moved into the cabinet. The glass doors closed.

  “I think your picture has been accepted,” Niobe said. “You have earned the brush.”

  “Oh, goody!” Luna exclaimed. “Thank you, Mountain King! I’ll use it always! It’s the best brush I ever dreamed of!”

  Now it was Orb’s turn. She opened the cabinet and lifted out the golden harp. It was small, but exquisitely crafted, surely the finest instrument of its kind. She seated herself cross-legged on the floor, set the base of the harp within the circle of her legs so she could hold it steady, and touched the strings with her fingers. A fine chord sounded. “Ooo, it’s truly magic!” she exclaimed. “I can really play this!”

  Orb paused a moment, mentally selecting a song. Then she began singing, accompanying herself on the harp.

  “I want to waltz in the wetlands...”

  Niobe was astonished. She hadn’t known that Orb knew that song; she must have learned it at school. She was doing it very well, and the magic harp amplified both the sound and the natural magic she had, so that the background orchestra sounded loud and clear and stereophonic.

  Twelve years old! How well would Orb sing and play and project when she achieved her full proficiency? Probably well enough to turn professional, if she chose.

  “Yes I—will cry—I’ll cry when the wetlands are dry,” Orb finished and bowed her head. There were tears on her cheeks, and on Luna’s and Niobe’s too; it had been truly beautiful.

  Then the song sounded again—but Orb wasn’t singing or playing. The cabinet was doing it. The song had been recorded, magic orchestra and all!

  The replay ended, and the cabinet doors closed. This, too, had been accepted. Orb had won her harp.

  “It’s done,” Niobe said, relieved. “Now we can go home.”

  They started back. The bat cave had been turned off, and was now apparent as a concavely curving floor eighteen inches below the swinging bridge; the bat was a transparent light projection. The wand Luna had dropped lay on the stone; its long fall had been illusion. There had, indeed, been no danger.

  “To think I crawled on hands and knees!” Luna said ruefully.

  “As a challenge, it was valid,” Niobe said, picking up the wand to replace it in the wand-holder. “Even illusions can hurt, as when we were blinded. Life is like that too; the unreal can be as important as the real, and sometimes it becomes real.” She was consciously lecturing the girls, knowing that all too soon they would enter the arena of social and sexual awareness, where the pitfalls were indeed of perception.

  They crossed, not bothering to use the bridge, and took the tunnel to the next chamber. This was unchanged; there really was a river and a barrier.

  “That’s a relief,” Luna said. “I’d hate to think I went naked to swim through water that didn’t exist!”

  “But now it’s just water,” Orb said, scooping up a handful and sipping it. “And no blubber monster.”

  They waded in, the girls holding their instruments clear of the water as long as they could. There was a momentary flicker of light. Then Orb dived under the barrier and came up on the other side. She took a breath as she broke the surface—and screamed.

  Niobe halted at the barrier. “What is it, dear?” she called, alarmed.

  “I can’t see!” Orb cried. “I’m blind! I’m blind!” She flailed about, dropping the harp, which sank to the bottom.

  “Wait, dear!” Niobe cried. “Relax! It can’t be—”

  “Where am I?” Orb cried, still flailing. “How did I get here? Why can’t I see?”

  Niobe exchanged glances with Luna, whose mouth opened in an appalled O. “The Lethe!” the girl whispered. “It’s on again!”

  “And this time it’s real!” Niobe exclaimed. “Something’s wrong!”

  The lethal monster appeared, moving slowly toward Orb.

  “Get back out of the water!” Niobe cried to Luna. “I’ll rescue her!” She took a breath, closed her eyes, and dived under the barrier. She was able to spot Orb by the noise of her splashing. She took hold of the girl and used the life-saving technique to haul her along. Niobe had to trust that her sense of direction was true and that she was swimming for the opposite bank. She did not dare open her eyes, or try to speak to her daughter; some water would be sure to splash in. She had no notion how close the monster was; she just had to keep them moving.

  She made it. She found the bank and hauled Orb out. She cleared her eyes, then shook the girl by the shoulders to get her attention. “Be still. Orb! You’ve been dosed with the water
of Lethe, so you can’t see or remember, but the effect is temporary. Soon you will see and remember. Just relax. Relax!”

  Slowly the girl calmed. “Oh, Mother,” she cried, and hugged Niobe. “I’m so scared!”

  So she remembered the basic relationship. Probably it was only the most recent events that were gone.

  “It will pass,” Niobe reassured her. “You’re not hurt, just inconvenienced for a few minutes. Just sit here and don’t move.” Then she looked across the river. Luna was standing on the far side. “Are you all right, Luna?”

  “I’m all right,” the girl called. “Should I cross?”

  Niobe considered momentarily. “No. Go to the other cave and see whether it too has been reactivated. Don’t try to cross it, though!”

  “I wouldn’t dare!” Luna said seriously. She disappeared into the tunnel.

  Orb’s tears seemed to help clear the spell from her eyes.

  “Mother! I can see a little!”

  “Yes, of course, dear,” Niobe said, expressing more confidence than she had felt. “Just have patience, and you will soon be back to normal.”

  After a while that seemed longer than it was, Luna returned. “It’s back,” she reported. “I knelt at the edge and reached down, and I couldn’t feel the floor at all. Then the bat came, and I ran.”

  How did the illusion of a chasm become real, Niobe wondered. An eighteen-inch fall could not duplicate the effect of a hundred-foot fall. But she was sure that chasm was now there. The Mountain King’s magic was no illusion!

  “You’d better come across, then,” Niobe decided. “It’s easier for you than it would be for Orb, and I think we can handle the mine-chamber better.”

  “What happened?” Orb asked as Luna crossed. Evidently her memory had not caught up to the last few minutes.

  “We were crossing the river—and the magic came on,” Niobe said. “I don’t know why. It’s as if we were suddenly considered thieves instead of worthy winners.”