With A Tangled Skein -- Piers Anthony
(Version 1.0 -- 12/12/2001)

THEBONNEEBOY
Niobe was the most beautiful young woman of her gen -- eration, with hair like buckwheat honey and eyes like the sky on a misty summer morning and a figure that was better imagined than described. But she had her trifling faults, such as an imperious nature fostered by the ability to use her beauty to get her own way, and she was of only average intellect. Also, though she did not know it, she had been marked for a more difficult destiny than she had any right to dream of.
"But, Father!" Niobe protested prettily. "Cedric Kaf -- tan is but sixteen years old, while I am twenty-one! I couldn't possibly marry him!"
Old Sean raised a pacifying hand. "Some rivers are harder to cross than others, and some boats smaller. These are not easy times, my daughter, for Ireland or the world. He belongs to an excellent family, farmers and scholars, and they take care of their own. His age is im -- material."
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"Immaterial!" she snorted. "He is but a child! Father, you do me wrong to marry me to one who is so young!"
The man's jaw tightened. He had the power of the pa -- triarch, but he preferred to have harmony. "Daughter, I did not do you wrong. It is true he is young, but he's growing. He will be a match for you when I am dead and gone."
"Let him be a match for some little snippet his own age! I absolutely refuse to put up with this indignity!" Her eyes seemed to brighten with her anger, becoming as intense as the midday welkin.
Sean shook his head ruefully, not immune to the luster of his child. "Niobe, you are the bonniest lass in the county, and nicely talented on the loom, but perhaps the most headstrong, too! Twice you have balked at excellent matches, and I was weak enough to let you. Now you are becoming embarrassingly old for a maiden."
That shook her, but she fought back. "Oh, pooh! A fat old moneybags and an ugly aristocrat! You call those matches?"
"Wealth is not to be sneered at, and neither is aristoc -- racy. You could have had a very easy life, or a very noble one. Such marriages are not easy to come by."
"Why can't I have a handsome, virile man of twenty -- five or so?" Niobe demanded. "Why burden me with a child who probably doesn't know his nose from his -- "
Her father's glance stopped her before she went too far. She could only balk him to a certain extent, however softly he might speak. "Because the war has drawn away such men, so that none remain here who are worthy of you. I will not give you to a peasant! You will not marry beneath your station. Cedric is qualified and financially comfortable, thanks to an inheritance, and -- "
"And he's growing," Niobe finished with disgust. "And I'm growing -- sick of the very notion! I won't marry such a child, and that's all there is to it."
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But that wasn't all there was to it. This time Sean's foot was firm. Niobe raged and pleaded and cried, to no avail. She was very good at crying, for her name meant "tears,'1 but her father was impervious. He was determined that this match be consummated.
And so it was. The banns were duly published, and the wedding was held in early summer, when the groom got out of school. Everything was accomplished according to form, but Niobe hardly noticed; she was too chagrined at being married to such a youth. She wouldn't even look directly at him. As the ceremony concluded, he at least had the wit not to try to kiss her.
Thus they found themselves alone in a cottage, which was his inheritance. It was in a glade near a swamp -- pleasant enough by day for those who liked that sort of thing, but sinister by night. That was perhaps part of the idea: a couple was supposed to be bolted inside during darkness, huddled together for warmth and comfort. There were great romantic possibilities; the locale was conducive.
Niobe had no trouble resisting conduction. She wrapped her lovely self up in a voluminous quilt -- a wed -- ding gift -- and slept on the bed. Young Cedric lay beside the hearth, where there was dwindling radiation from the embers. As the quiet chill of the night intensified, neither stirred.
So they spent their nuptial night, the woman and the boy, in silent isolation. In the morning Cedric got up, stoked the ashes in the fireplace, and went out to relieve himself and fetch more wood. Niobe woke to the sound of an axe splitting billets of wood. It was a good sound, for the morning air was chill indeed; soon there would be physical warmth.
Or would there? She remembered that a fireplace was an ineffective way to heat a house. A good stove put six times as much heat into the surrounding air for the same

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amount of wood burned. There was a stove here; she would see to it. She might not be a genius, but she was practical when it suited her purpose. For one thing, she needed warm hands to
operate her loom properly.
She wrapped her coat about her nightrobe and went out to use the outhouse. There was an
old catalog beside the wooden seat, half-used, and a bucket of ashes. It was an efficient system,
she reflected, for this was the classic place for reflection; one could read each page of the cat
- alog before using it, or simply stare at the pictures. The mind was edified while the body was
cleaned. The ashes were to sprinkle over the refuse, cutting down on the smell, and of course
there was a ready supply of them at the house. The refuse was periodically toted to the garden for
compost. It was an old-fashioned system, but a good one; nothing, really, was wasted. Still, she
would have preferred a modern city toilet.
She emerged in due course, shivering in the cold, but she paused to watch Cedric at work.
He was not cold at all; the effort of splitting heated him. She had to admit he was good at it; he
set each billet of wood on the chopping block and halved it cleanly with a single blow of the axe,
so that the pieces toppled to either side. He was a boy -- but a big boy, with a fine ripple of
muscle as he swung the axe. His blond hair jumped as the axe struck, and a muscle in his cheek
tightened momentarily. A bonnie boy, indeed!
He saw her and paused. "You're cold. Miss Niobe," he said with a rich backwoods accent
that, like Niobe's form, is better imagined than rendered. "Here, take my jacket till I get the
wood in. I'm too hot anyway."
"Don't call me miss," she protested. "I am, after all, your wife." It grieved her to say
it, but it was a truth she could not deny, and honesty required that she not attempt to. A
marriage, however ill-conceived, was a marriage.
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He paused, half-startled. "Uh, sure, I guess so. But you know, ma'am, it was none o' my
notion to get married like this; I'm not even through school."
She might have guessed! "It wasn't my idea either," she said. "At least not -- " "Not to an ignorant kid!" he finished with a rueful grin, "Come on, now, take the jacket
before you freeze your toes off, miss -- uh, ma'am." He approached her, jacket extended. "Just a moment," she said, constrained to assert her independence even from this. "You
look a lot more com -- fortable than I am. Give me that axe."
"Oh, that's not no woman's work, ma'am! I'll do it."
"That isn't woman's work," she said, annoyed by the double negative.
"That's what I said!" Then he paused, embarrassed. "Oh -- you mean the way I said it. I'm
sorry. I'm just a backwoods boy, ma'am, and sorry you had to get stuck with -- " "What's done is done, Cedric," she said firmly. She wrested the axe from his grip, knowing
he could offer no effective resistance to her because she was an adult. She set up a billet and
swung at it -- and caught the very edge of it. The blade caromed off and plunged into the ground
beside her right foot.
"Uh, ma'am, please -- " Cedric said, worried.
"No, I can do it!" she said, hauling the axe up again in a wobbly trajectory. He jumped to intercept her. "Let me help you, ma'am, nooffense."
"You're afraid I'll break the axe!" she accused him.
"No ma'am! I'm afraid you'll chop off a toe, and I'd sure hate to have anything like that
happen to a foot as dainty as that."
She relaxed. His diplomacy was effective because it was unschooled. "So would I! I did
come close, didn't

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I? All my incidental studies about trees, and I never split a single blivet of -- " "Billet, ma'am," he said quickly.
She had to laugh. "Of course! I don't use the language as well as I supposed!" "Oh, no, you talk real fine, ma'am," he said. "Now you take the handle like this, see, and

-- " He reached around her to put his hands over hers, setting hers prop -- erly on the handle. His hands were larger than hers, cal -- lused and strong, seeming too big for his body. She won -- dered whether boys, like puppies, had outsized paws if they were still growing into them. If so, Cedric would in due course be a young giant.

"How is it your hands are so rough, when your family is scholarly?" she asked thoughtlessly.
He snatched his hands away. "Oh, you know, fight -- ing," he said, embarrassed.
Fighting. Well, boys would be boys. "There shouldn't be cause for that here," she informed him gently.
"No, 'course not," he muttered, scuffling his feet.
"You were showing me how to chop," she said, taking
pity on him.
He got her grip right and her stance right, then guided her through a swing at the billet. She felt the strength in his arms and body as he moved in contact with her; it was amazing how strong he was for his age. This time the blade came down cleanly, perfectly centered, and cleaved the wood asunder. The halves did not fly apart, as this had not been a fully powered blow, but they offered no further resistance.
Niobe tried the next one alone, following the procedure he had shown her. Her strike was not sufficient to split the billet, but it was remarkably close to the center. It was a victory of sorts. She owed that, perhaps, to her coordination with the loom; she could generally place an
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object where she wanted to, when not struggling with too much weight.
But now the axe was stuck in the wood. She tried to draw it free, but it wouldn't budge. "Just turn it over, heave it up, and hit it backside, ma'am," Cedric advised.
She did so, struggling to haul up the heavy billet, and brought the head of the axe down on the block. The wood split itself on the blade and fell apart. "Oh, it worked!" she exclaimed, pleased.
"Sure thing, ma'am," Cedric agreed. "You got a knack for it."
"I have a knack -- " But she realized that she did not want to be lecturing him about language; it was not the wifely way. "No I don't, either! I'm just a duffer. But it is fun!"
She split wood for several minutes, and soon was warm enough to remove her coat. "If I had known how satis -- fying it is to split wood, I would have done it long ago," she gasped.
"You sure look good doin' it," Cedric said.
"No I don't!" she protested, pleased.
"Yes you do, ma'am. You're one pretty woman."
"And you're one bonnie boy. But I'm getting tired; let's go in and get some breakfast."
"No, I mean it, ma'am. You're the prettiest woman I've ever seen, specially when you move like that."
She looked down at herself. She was glowing from the exertion, breathing hard, and her nightwear was plastered to her bosom. This was not her notion of feminine beauty, but she was flattered all the same. "And I mean it too, Cedric. You're a young Adonis. When you get your growth, you'll be attracting all the girls." Then she paused, flustered, realizing what she had said. Attract girls? He was already married -- to her. She felt the flush climbing her face.

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He did not reply. He stopped to gather an armful of wood, then carried it into the cabin.

But she could tell by the flush on his neck that he felt just as embarrassed as she did. He was young and socially inexperienced, but he was a good young man, meaning well. It was as awkward for him as it was for her.
"Cedric, I -- " But what could she say that would not exacerbate the situation? Better to let it drop.
Inside, she explained about the stove. "Sure, ma'am," he said agreeably. "We use a stove in winter." He showed his expertise in getting it going, making sure the ashes were not clogging the air vents, adjusting the damper in the stovepipe, and carefully building a structure of paper, kindling and wood in the firebox. "Got to start a cold stove slow," he explained. "Don't want it to crack." But soon enough it was producing comforting heat, and Niobe was making pancakes on its surface.
"You sure know how to cook, ma'am!" Cedric said as he wolfed down his share. He had a huge appetite, as befitted a growing boy.
"I'm a woman," Niobe said wryly.
"You sure are!" he agreed enthusiastically.
She changed the subject. "I gather that you did not
want to -- to get married?"
"Pshaw, ma'am, I'm not ready for nothing like that!" he agreed. "I don't know nothing about women. And I wanted to finish school, and get into the track program, so I could maybe make something of myself, you know. But you know how it is when the family decides."
"I know," she agreed. "I suppose it's no secret that I objected to this -- I mean, I didn't even know you, Cedric, just your name and age and that you came from a good family. It's nothing personal -- "
"It's a good family, all right," he agreed. "And so's yours, which is why -- you know." He shrugged. "I just wasn't, well, quite ready."
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She found herself liking this honest, unassuming boy. She had an idea. "Look, Cedric -- why don't you go to school anyway? We can afford it, and if you really want to get an education -- "
His face brightened. "Say, you mean it, ma'am? You'd let me go?"
"I would encourage it, Cedric."
"But you'd be alone here, ma'am, and -- "
"I'll be safe enough. There are no dragons in these for -- ests." She smiled.
He paused, as if slightly stunned. Her smile had been known to have that effect on men. Then he frowned. "There is magic, though," he said darkly. "Those trees cast spells -- "
"Not against those who understand them," Niobe said. "I have been studying the magic of the wetlands forest. Those trees and plants only want to live and let live. But when you come marching in with an axe -- "
He was startled. "Say, I never thought of that! If I was a tree, I wouldn't like it none neither!" Then he paused. "Say -- I know I didn't say that right. Ma'am, would you -- "
"If I were a tree, I would not like it any, either," Niobe said carefully. "Eliminate the double negative."
"Were, ma'am?"
"That's the subjunctive mood, used to show supposi -- tion. I'm not a tree and never could be, but I'm trying to put myself in the tree's place, so I signal this by saying 'If I were a tree.' To say 'If I was a tree' would be to suggest I might have been a tree^ in the past, and that would be a misrepresentation."
"It sure would!" He caught himself. "Certainly would. It certainly makes sense the way you tell it, ma'am."
"Cedric, you really don't need to call me 'ma'am,'" she said gently.

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"Well, it's a term of respect for an older -- " He broke
off.
Niobe smiled again. "Now we're even, Cedric. I mis -- spoke myself outside, and perhaps

you did the same, now. We are in a difficult situation, but we must make the best of it. In time we shall not notice the five-year differ -- ence in our ages; it is little enough, really. Were it re -- versed -- "

"Yeah, the men figure sixteen is prime for a girl," he agreed. "Funny, isn't it!"

"Perhaps it is a prime age -- if a person is not interested in getting a genuine education."
He turned serious again. "You know, all my family have been smart in -- you sure about the school?" "I am if you are, Cedric." "I certainly am! I want to get smart." "Lots of luck," she murmured.
He winked at her, and she realized he had caught the | irony. She blushed, suddenly and hard; he was smart enough to know what she thought of him. "I did it again," she said through her burning face. "I owe you one."
"No, you already paid me when you told me the sub -- junctive, ma'am. Oops!"
She started to laugh, halfway hysterically. He joined her. They both knew it wasn't funny, but it cleared the air somewhat. They finished their breakfast in silence.
The day warmed rapidly. Niobe dressed and finished with the dishes and straightened up the cabin, for she believed in order. Cedric carried more split wood inside so that there would be no problem the following morning. Then it became awkward again, for they had nothing else to do. This was not normally a problem for the newly married, Niobe knew, so no provision had been made.
"I can set up my loom," she said. But it didn't seem appropriate, this first day.
"I can go scout a trail to run on," he said.
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That was right; he had mentioned being interested in track. If he returned to school, he would have the op -- portunity, so training would be in order. But he, too, was doubtful, knowing that this was not what honeymooners were supposed to be doing.
"Let me help you," she said. "We can take a walk through the forest, exploring it. I'm eager to verify the local magic."
He smiled. To take a walk together: that was a suitable occupation. "And leave the axe behind," he said.
"So as not to frighten the trees," she agreed.
They walked, and it was beautiful. The foliage had not yet been jaded by the heat of summer, and the bright sun -- light kept the mosquitoes at bay. They discovered a path that led down into the swamp, where the bases of the trees became swollen and the green moss climbed high. Now Niobe's expertise in wild magic came into play. She showed him how the huge water oaks of the swamp ex -- tended protective spells for the little fish who lived among their roots and helped fertilize them with their droppings, and how the hamadryad, or tree nymph, could be glimpsed if one had the patience to be still and really look for her. "She dies when her tree dies," she explained. "That's why she's so sensitive to the sight of an -- " She paused, then spelled it, "AX-E."
"She's real pretty," he agreed. "Almost as pretty as you. From now on, I'm not cutting no
- not cutting any live wood."
Niobe felt a warm wash of pleasure. It was foolish, she knew, but she liked being reminded she was beautiful, and nymphs were the standard against which mortals were measured. Nymphs were eternally youthful and supple -- as long as their trees were healthy. A woodlands specialist could diagnose the ills of a tree merely by looking at its nymph.

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They went on, getting their feet muddy in the slushy sections of the path. "Maybe we could drain this bog and
farm this rich soil," Cedric said.
"Drain the bog!" Niobe repeated, shocked. "But it's vital to the forest! It's a recharge region for water. It stores excess rainfall and sustains the plants when there's a drought. Without the wetlands, the land would lose many of its best trees, and not just those that grow in it. The water table extends everywhere, and the roots find it -- but the wetlands keep the level right."
Then, in her enthusiasm for the wetlands, Niobe burst
into song:
"I want to waltz in the wetlands, The swamps, the marshes and bogs (oh, the bogs). Yes, I want to waltz in the wetlands With the birds and the fish and the frogs."
Cedric watched and listened, openmouthed, until her conclusion:
"I want to waltz in the wetlands, a place where na -- ture gets by And I...will cry...will cry when the wetlands
are dry. Yes I...will cry...will cry when the wetlands
are dry."
She was so moved herself that the tears were streaming
down her face. Cedric seemed awed. "Niobe, I don't want you to cry!
I'll never drain the wetlands. Never!"
She smiled at him, then accepted his handkerchief to wipe away her tears. "It's only a song, Cedric."
"It's only a song," he agreed. "But you -- you're spe -- cial."
"Thank you," she said, touched. She knew she was
not any great singer. The fit had come on her unexpect -
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ediy, and she had half expected him to laugh. Obviously he was impressed, and that was very flattering.
They completed their survey of the region and returned to the cabin. It occurred to her in retrospect that for the first time he had called her by her unadorned name. She wasn't certain how she felt about that, but she had after all made an issue of his calling her "miss" or "ma'am" and certainly he had a right to use her name. He was after all her husband -- in name.
"I'm going to study the wetlands!" he declared ab -- ruptly.
Ah, the impetuosity of youth! "They are worth study -- ing," she agreed carefully. "But of course you shouldn't restrict your interests."
He just looked at her. She had seen that look in the eyes of the family dog when he had been praised and pat -- ted. It was going to take time to adjust completely to this situation.
Nevertheless, they felt more comfortable with each other now. Niobe fixed their meals from the stores in the cabin, and when these were depleted, Cedric hiked into town to buy more and haul them back in his knapsack. He liked to hike; he was a very physical person, with the burgeoning energy of youth. But they also played games together, including a contest of riddles. She quickly dis -- covered that he had a remarkably agile mind and could best her readily at this sort of thing. She fed him the riddle that had stymied her family for years: it concerned six men trying to cross a river using a boat for two, with certain conditions. He solved it immediately, as if it wasn't even a challenge. He also caught on to the nuances of correct speaking so rapidly that he was soon perfect. She could understand, now, why his family had a schol -- arly tradition.
Meanwhile, he showed her how to manage the physical things, such as stacking wood for the winter so that it

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wouldn't rot and emptying the base of the outhouse. But she continued to sleep on the bed, and he on the hearth;
there was no physical romance between them.

In two weeks Niobe came to know Cedric very well and continued to be impressed by his superior qualities. He was a strong and smart youth, with an amiable dis -- position and good potential -- but he was a youth. He was also her husband. Niobe knew she could not send him away to college without consummating the marriage. But how was she to go about it? She had no experience in this aspect, and no great inclination. Still, it was evident that Cedric was not going to initiate the matter; he treated her with a respect bordering on worship. So it was up to her. "Cedric," she said one pleasant afternoon. He met her gaze, then looked away shyly. "Ah, Niobe, and has it come to that now?" At times he seemed almost

to read her mind.
"When the honeymoon is over, my mother will ask me,
and your father will ask you. For the news."
He sighed. "That they will. But I am not so naive as to think 1 could force my attention

on a woman who
doesn't love me."
He had an excellent grasp of the fundamentals and he
expressed them well. "Oh? You have been loved be -- fore?"
He shook his head, embarrassed. "Never. I lack ex -- perience."
"So do I," she admitted.
"But you are supposed to lack it!"
She had to laugh. "Cedric, I am sure that had you been permitted to wait until you could

marry at my age, you would have had it. But I hardly condemn you for this particular lack. It means you come to me -- pristine."

"I'm only sixteen," he reminded her defensively. "Aye, there's talk among boys, but I'll wager I'm not the only one who never -- " He shrugged.
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"Of course," she agreed quickly. "A double standard is hypocrisy. It is best that a man and a woman come to -- " She hesitated. "To learn together."
"It is hard to -- " He, too, hesitated. "If you loved me as I love you, it would be -- " He faltered as he saw her react, then blushed.
"What did you say, Cedric?"
"'Twas a slip o' th' tongue," he said, slipping back into his idiom as he reddened further. "I apologize."
"You apologize -- for loving your wife?"
"But you know," he said miserably. "It isn't real!"
"The marriage, or your love?"
He scuffed his foot. "Oh, you know. You're such a fine woman, so lovely I get lightheaded just from looking at you, and you know so much, you're so poised, you de -- serve so much better, and you certainly didn't ask for this. I don't want to make it worse for you. I'm just a kid."
Niobe, her pulse racing, focused on the single thing. "When? When did you know you loved me?"
He shrugged, as if passing it off as something beneath notice. "That first day -- when you sang in the swamp. When you cried for the wetlands. I never heard anything so -- " He spread his hands, lacking a word.
"But I'm not even a good singer!"
"You believe!'" he said seriously. "You really do love the wetlands -- and I do too, now, because of you. What you love, / love."
"Cedric, you never said -- "
"And make another fool of myself?" he asked with mild bitterness. "And maybe drive you away? Because here's this gangling boy mooning over you? I'm not that stupid."
"Cedric, you aren't stupid at all! You're a fine lad -- a fine young man! I'm sure that -- "
"Please, can't we just forget it?"
"No, we can't! Cedric, I can't claim I love you -- that sort of thing is more gradual with a woman, and -- "

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"And there has to be a man."
"Cedric!"
He just looked at her, and looked away. She knew there was no way to make him lose sight

of the truth: that she
didn't see him as a man.
Niobe had generally gotten her way, in life. This time her beauty acted against her. It

was, she realized, time that she herself grew up. She would do what had to be
done.
"Cedric, we've been over this matter of age before. It's
a chimaera. It really doesn't matter. Love doesn't matter.
We're married."
"Love doesn't matter?"
"I didn't really mean that. Of course it matters! I meant that I'm ready to do what I have

to do, without waiting for something that may never -- I mean hasn't yet -- "
"I understand what you mean," he said gravely.
"I do respect you, Cedric, and I am your wife. There are many women married to men of

mature age who don't -- who do what is required regardless of their per -- sonal feelings. It is time we made our marriage -- real."
"No! Not with one who doesn't love me. It just isn't
right!" She agreed with him, but had to argue. "Why isn't it?"
"It would be r -- " He stalled on the word. She flushed. "Rape?"
He nodded. She felt as if she were in a pit that kept getting deeper
the more she tried to scramble out. Where were the eu -- phemisms, the handy oblique references that sugar -- coated the unfortunate reality? Cedric wouldn't lie, and neither would she, and on that jagged stone of integrity their marriage was foundering before it began. Where was the way to make it right? They were each trying to do the right thing, and the irony was that they agreed on what
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the right thing was, yet had to go counter to it. Of course there should be mutual love!
And there was not. She could give him her body and her best wishes, but not her heart. Not yet. She felt the tears starting again.
"Oh, don't do that, please!" he pleaded. "I can't stand to see you sad."
"Cedric, it's not your fault. You're right, you know. You need a woman to love you, and I wish I -- " Now the tears overflowed, choking her off. "Oh, miss -- " he started. "Missus," she corrected him, forcing a smile. "I'd do anything to make you happy! But I don't know how!"
"Then make me love you!" she flared. There was a silence as they both realized what she had said.
He shook his head, baffled. "Niobe, how -- ?" "The same way any other man does. Court me!" He looked at her sidelong. "You would sit still for that?"
"Do you think you're some monster, Cedric? If you love me, prove it!"
"And that I will!" he exclaimed. "Come to the water oak where you sang to me, and I will sing to you."
"Yes!" she cried, as if it were a phenomenal break -- through. And, in a way, it was. The realization that he loved her excited and flattered her; she had never been loved that way before.
They went to the water oak, and she sat on one of its projecting roots, clear of the water, and leaned back against its massive trunk. The hamadryad peered ner -- vously down from the high foliage, wondering what they were up to.

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Cedric stood before her, then dropped to one knee and struck a pose. Niobe kept a straight face, determined not to spoil his effort. He took a breath and sang:
"Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, And all the craggy mountains yields."
His voice was untrained but strong, and he had good pitch and control, and a great deal of feeling. It was a nice song, with an evocative melody, and she was impressed.
"And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks."
As he sang, he reached forth to take her hand.
"By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals."
At his touch, something happened. Suddenly there was music, as of a mighty orchestra, filling the forest with the power of its sound. His voice seemed to become ampli -- fied, magnificent, evocative, compelling, beautiful. She sat stunned, mesmerized by his amazing presence, by the phenomenal music, and she only came out of it when the song ended.
"...If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love."
As he stopped singing, the grand music also died away. "What's that?" Niobe asked, awed, still holding his
hand.
He looked concerned. "Is something wrong?" "That -- that music! Where did it come from?" "Oh -- that. I thought you knew. It's my magic. It runs
in our family, off and on. I'm sorry if 1 -- "
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"Sorry!" she exclaimed. "It's absolutely beautiful! How do you do it?"
He shrugged, letting go of her hand. "It just comes when I sing, when I touch. See." He put his hand on the trunk of the tree, and sang:
"Come live with me and be my love."
Niobe heard nothing special -- but the tree shuddered as if reverberating to some potent sound, and the dryad almost fell off her branch.
Niobe put her own hand on the bark, and the orchestra returned.
"And we will all the pleasures prove."
"Cedric -- it's terrific! It's -- an experience!" She was unable to define it further.
"It's just -- the way it is." He seemed nonplused by her reaction.
"Sing to me again," she urged him.
"But the song's finished. All that follows is the maid -- en's response."
Niobe took his hand. "Then sing that, Cedric!"
He sang, and the orchestra was with him, buttressing his voice and elevating it to the transcendence manifested before. It was not mere sound or mere music; it seemed to be more than three dimensions, as if pure emotion had been harnessed into melody. Could love, she asked her -- self, be more than this?
"If all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee, and be thy love."
These were words of negation, but it didn't matter; the evocative power remained. Niobe realized that anything
20 With a Tangled Skein
Cedric sang would have similar effect. She remained en -- tranced until the last verse.
"But could youth last and love still breed, Had joys no date nor age no need, Then those delights my mind might move To live with thee, and be thy love."
The song finished, and with it the magic. But now Niobe gazed at Cedric with a new appreciation. He did indeed have magic, and love was possible. "Take me home, Ced -- ric," she told him.
By the time they reached the cabin, however, Niobe had had a chance to restabilize. It was, after all, only magic; Cedric was no different than he had been, and their situation had not really changed. It made no sense to do anything she might be sorry for later. So she did not push the matter, and Cedric did not, and their marriage re -- mained unconsummated.
After another week of this, Niobe realized that time was running short. They had been given a full month to themselves; thereafter the relatives would be visiting. Niobe realized this as she was about to sleep.
"They'll know," she said, abruptly sitting up in bed. "Yeah," Cedric agreed from the hearth. "Cedric, come over here," she said in peremptory fash -- ion. "We must get this done. We can't face them, other -- wise."
He got up and perched on the foot of the bed. He seemed to be afraid of her. "Cedric, it's really not all that complicated," she said. "We've both been told about the birds and the bees and we've seen animals." "You are no animal!" he said, horrified. That set her back. This remained awkward. If he had come on like a bull in the mating pen, she would have been appalled, but would have tolerated it; that, her mother had warned her privately, was the way men were.
Piers Anthony 21
At least the ice, so to speak, would have been broken. She didn't feel quite comfortable with that metaphor, but it seemed to apply. As it was, they were in trouble. "For -- get the animals," she said. "Come into bed with me. It's ridiculous sleeping apart like this."
He moved up, and stretched timorously beside her on the bed.
"Not in your clothes!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, ma'am, I couldn't -- "
She reached across and took his hand. It was cold and stiff. "Cedric, are you afraid of me?"
"Oh, no, ma'am!" he protested. But he was shivering.
"Of -- what we have to do?"
"Terrified," he agreed.
"Cedric, this is ridiculous. You know I like you, and if you sing to me -- "
"That's the magic, not me."
And he wanted her to love him, not his magic. He had a point. But she suspected this was mainly an excuse to justify his fear. "Cedric, I know you're no coward. What's really bothering you?"
"I couldn't -- just couldn't do that to you, ma'am."
That "ma'am" again! She was trying to bring them closer to each other, but was only succeeding in increas -- ing their separation. "Why not?"
"Because you're so -- so beautiful and wonderful and -- " He shrugged, unable to express himself properly.
"But Cedric, I'm your wife!"
"Not by your choice!"
This ground was too familiar; she had to get away from it. "But not by yours either, Cedric. We are two people thrown together by circumstance and the will of our fam -- ilies, and they really have tried to do what was best for us, and now we -- "
"A woman and a boy," he said.

22
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With a Tangled Skein
There it was again. He felt inadequate -- and she couldn't argue with this assessment,

privately. But she knew she had to change that. "But you're growing," she
said.
"I don't think I'll ever be grown enough for you."
"Oh, Cedric, that's not true!" she protested. But she knew she sounded like a mother

encouraging a child. This dialogue was going nowhere. Like all the others.

She considered, while he lay in uncomfortable silence. After a bit, she said: "Cedric, maybe we're trying to do things too abruptly. Let's start in stages. Take off your clothes, lie beside me under the quilt, and sleep, tonight. Nothing else."

"You promise?"
She laughed. "I promise, Cedric. What do you think I
could do to you?"
He had to laugh too, but it was strained. "What if it
gets cold?"
"Then we move together, to share our warmth under
the covers. That's the idea, isn't it?"
"But you -- you aren't wearing much."
She sat up and unbuttoned her nightie, pleased at her own daring. "I'll wear nothing at

all."

He actually rolled over and fell off the bed with an awful thunk. Alarmed, Niobe jumped out, ran around, and bent to help him up. "Oh, Cedric, I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?"
"Please, ma'am -- your shirt -- " He turned his face
away.
She glanced down. In the faint light of the dying fire,
she saw that her partially unbuttoned nightie had fallen open, exposing part other bosom. "For God's sake, Ced -- ric, you can look at me! I'm your wife!" "It's not right," he said, face still averted. "Cedric, look at me!" she ordered. But he would not.
Anger flared in her exposed bosom. She got up and stalked back around the bed and plumped back down. What was she to do with this boy?
Then, through her cooling fury, she became aware of something. She listened.
He was leaning against the bed and sobbing, trying des -- perately to muffle it so that she would not know.
Her emotion spun about in a full turn. "Oh, Cedric!" she breathed, and started across the bed to comfort him. Then she stopped, realizing that that might be the worst thing she could do. She was no mother, and he no child, and these roles had to be avoided like plague. She had thought originally only of her own chagrin at being mar -- ried to a boy; now she realized that the problem was far more acute for him. She had to find some way to free them both from these perceptions, so that she would be a woman and he a man.
Tonight was a loss. She would just have to let it grind itself out and try to do better on the morrow.
She did try on the morrow. "Cedric, let's get drunk."
He was taken aback. "I never touch the stuff, ma'am."
"Niobe," she said firmly. "Call me by name."
"Niobe," he agreed reluctantly. "I don't drink, Niobe."
"Neither do I. But there's a bottle of white wine on the shelf."
"I don't know. Some folks get wild when they drink."
"Yes, don't they!"
He smiled. He seemed recovered from his distress of the prior night, and she knew she had been right to leave him alone. Tonight she would get him in that bed!
They opened the bottle after the evening meal. They sat out on the slope of the knoll beyond the cabin and watched the sunset. Each took a small glass of the golden fluid and drank it down. "Oh, it burns!" Niobe gasped.

24 With a Tangled Skein
"Sure does!" Cedric agreed. "Say, that's good stuff!" He refilled his glass, and she refilled hers, but she sipped her second more cautiously than he did. She was not, she found, all that partial to burns, and anyway she didn't need to get drunk, just him.
It did not take long for the wine to reach their minds. "Hey, my head feels light!" he exclaimed happily.
"So does mine," she agreed. "Maybe we'd better go slow."
"Slow? Why? This is fun!" He refilled his glass, not noticing that she had not yet finished hers, and downed it at a gulp.
Niobe was getting worried; it was evident that the al -- cohol was carrying him away, and she wasn't quite sure where it would take him. "Cedric, let's sing!" she sug -- gested, taking his hand so that he couldn't use it to take any more wine, yet.
"Sure, Niobe," he agreed cheerfully. Without pream -- ble, he sang:
"Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine."
The orchestra manifested, because she was touching him. It added its grandeur to the simple song. Again she was entranced. When she had first heard the magic, she had realized that there was more to Cedric than she had supposed. This time she realized that she had developed a definite fondness for him. She could love this bonnie boy, in due course. It was easy to believe that, as the music encompassed her.
After that he sang a straight drinking song, Three Jolly Coachmen, about a trio that was merry for the evening, knowing that they would be sober and therefore less jolly in the morning. They pontificated on the man who drank light ale -
Piers Anthony 25 "He falls as the leaves do fall, so early in October!"
And on the one who drank stout ale -- a jolly fellow! The background music was becoming somewhat uneven, as his mind was dulled by the wine, as if the players of the orchestra were getting tipsy too. Niobe found that excruciatingly funny.
As it happened, she knew that song, and had a couple of verses to contribute:
"Here's to the girl who steals a kiss, and runs to
tell her mother.
She does a very foolish thing; she'll never get an -- other!"
Cedric, high as he was, laughed with agreement.
Then she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. He looked startled. He glanced around, leaned forward, and vomited on the ground.
Oh, no! He had had too much, and gotten sick. He was in no particular distress at the moment, but Niobe knew that this evening, too, was finished.
She managed to get him inside, and cleaned up, and onto the bed to sleep it off. This time she slept by the hearth.
In the morning, grim with hangover, Cedric picked up the bottle and stared at the remaining wine. "It looks ex -- actly like urine!" he said savagely, and went to the door and flung it outside. He simply wasn't cut out to be a jolly coachman.
That evening Niobe tried again. She sat him on the bed beside her, took his hand, and asked him to sing again. She sang with him, and the magic surrounded them, and it was very like love. But when it was time to complete the act of love, Cedric could not. The magnitude of the task rendered him impotent. He was chagrined, but she

26 With a Tangled Skein
was in her secret heart relieved; she had tried her very best, and failed. It just did not seem to be time.

"But Cedric," she said. "You must sleep without clothing in this bed from now on, and I will too."
He stared at her with dismay. "But -- "
"So we can honestly say we slept together," she ex -- plained. "Would anyone believe that was all there was to it?"
Slowly he smiled, as relieved as she. He joined her, naked, in the bed. It was a cheap compromise, but it would have to do.

COLLEGE
In the fall Cedric went to the local college. It was not far distant, but inconvenient to commute to by foot, and it would have been complex to arrange for a horse. A magic carpet would have been ideal, but reliable ones were still so expensive that it wasn't expedient for this situation. It was best, all things considered, for him to board -- and romantic incompatibility did not even enter the picture.
Niobe sent him off with a kiss and a tear and watched him march away with his knapsack full of clothing. He would buy his books there and pay tuition and board; they had budgeted for it and had a comfortable margin.
She was depressed when he departed and sorry they had not been able to make their marriage work. Cedric was certainly a fine boy with wonderful magic, and she had become quite fond of him. Of course no one knew about the failure of the marriage -- or at least the relatives were too discreet to mention any suspicions. With luck, things would work out better after Cedric had matured a year or two in college, and no one would ever know. As
27

28 With a Tangled Skein
a last resort, she could buy a love potion and take it her -- self; but if Cedric caught on, he would react negatively, and she really didn't want to deceive him anyway. Love was not really the problem.

Meanwhile, she was lonely. She could have gone home to her parents for the term, but knew that, if she did, her mother would worm the truth out other, and she couldn't
stand the mortification.
She made do alone. Running the house was simple enough, and she did a great deal of reading and weaving in the days and cultivated the acquaintance of the dryad of the water oak in the swamp. It was an acceptable ex -- istence, for the time being.
She arranged the cabin to suit herself precisely, and it was very comfortable. She worked on the yard, and that was comfortable too. When she had the near portion of the swamp nicely policed, she decided it was time to visit
Cedric.
She rented a horseless carriage for the occasion. This
was considerably cheaper than a carpet, but slower, and the wheels bumped over the rutted track, jolting her un -- comfortably. Nevertheless she arrived after a day, reach -- ing the college in fair order, though her prim traveling |
dress was dusted with grime. I
She spied Cedric walking along a pathway between the S dormitory and a classroom building. Only two months had j passed, but he did seem to have grown. He was the tallest | of the youths there, though he was a freshman, and two' college girls flirted outrageously with him as they passed.
Then he spied Niobe and smiled. He had grown more handsome, too! He seemed to be in his element here. But he became diffident and awkward as he approached her. The problem between them still existed.
She visited his dormitory room and met his room -- mate -- a pudgy, scholarly type. Cedric showed her his
Piers Anthony 29
work so far: projects relating to wetlands reclamation and natural magic. It was evident that he took it seriously and was learning a great deal. She was sure he was a joy to his professors.
First she had a little chore to do. "Give me your cap," she said.
"My cap?" he asked blankly.
"Your college cap -- the one you wear to show you're a student. I believe you'll find it on your head."
Perplexed, he removed it and handed it to her. She brought out her needle and thread and sewed a bright band of silk around it. "That's to show the college girls that you're married," she said firmly, returning it to him.
"Oh. Sure. Of course." He seemed nonplused.
She kissed him chastely, then returned to her carriage. She found herself both reassured and disquieted as she rode home, and it took time to ferret out the sources of her feelings. But at length she realized that she was pleased to see Cedric properly established in college and doing well, pleasantly surprised to see him so tall and handsome and confident, and jealous of the attention he received from the girls of his own age. A married man, after all, had no business attracting such interest. So she had done what was necessary, but still was bothered. After all, what had she done with him all summer, when she had had him all to herself? There was the nagging suspicion of failure on her part; or, if not exactly that, of imperfection. Would they have succeeded in consum -- mating the marriage if she had been more alert to the problem? If she had been sensitive to his side of it? If she had refrained from correcting his errors, from being the perfect lady, and just concentrated on being a person he could relate to as he could to a college girl? Naturally he had been diffident!
Having resolved the mixture of her emotions and gotten them suitably shelved in her mind, she resumed her or -

30 With a Tangled Skein
dinary life and produced some truly fine tapestries de -- picting forest and wetlands scenes. One showed the water oak in the swamp, with the hamadryad perched on its lowest branch,
posing. It had taken time and patience to befriend the nymph enough to get her to do this, and
Niobe knew that not many human people could have ac -- complished this at all; she was quite
pleased. If only she
could have done that with Cedric!
Near the end of the semester she visited Cedric again. He had been dutifully sending her
letters about his life and progress at the college, and his writing showed in -- creasing
perception and literacy. He was gaining mentally and socially as well as physically; the college
experience was indeed good for him. He was majoring in Wetlands Magic and already was learning
things they hadn't taught in Niobe's day. He knew how to test trees for their spe -- cific forms
of magic and all about the ecological cycle. Next term he would take a course in Wetlands Fauna
and their relationship to the vegetation. He was excited by the enormous store of information
available and determined to master it all. But Niobe wanted to see for herself, just | to be sure
he wasn't exaggerating. The impetuous young { were prone to exaggeration, after all. i Cedric was
taller yet and marvelously handsome in the sunlight, and his ready smile charmed her. He had one
class to attend before he could give her his full attention. "I'm sorry," he apologized, but his
grin was one of ac -- commodation rather than chagrin. "I must attend; 1 have a report to give.
Then I'll be with you. But my Water Magic Prof wants to talk to you anyway, so you won't be bored."
How his confidence had grown! Niobe was almost dis -- mayed to see that her husband was
prospering just as well without her as she was without him. But she went to see the Prof, who was
expecting her.
Piers Anthony 31
The Prof was typical of his breed: aging, stooped, with a shock of white hair and a deeply
serrated face from which the eyes fairly gleamed with intelligence. "Ah, Mrs. Kaftan!" he
exclaimed. "I recognize you at once by your extraordinary beauty!"
"Oh, come on!" she demurred, foolishly flattered.
"No, indeed!" he persisted loudly. All teachers had voices that carried to the farthest
recesses of the mind. "I asked Cedric how I would know you, and he said when I saw the loveliest
mortal woman of this world, that would be Niobe. Lo, it is so! He is much in awe of you, and it is
not difficult to perceive the reason. You are indeed outstanding!"
"Enough, Professor! I'm an old married woman! Why did you wish to talk with me? Is
something wrong with Cedric's program?"
"Quite the opposite, my dear!" he protested enthusi -- astically. "Cedric is the most
brilliant and conscientious student I have had in a decade. His work is outstanding for a student!
Do you know, Mrs. Kaftan, a mind like his is seldom brought to these, if you will pardon the pun,
backwaters of scholarship like Wetlands Ecology. I wanted to compliment you on the good work you
have done for our discipline by motivating him to enter it. I know that when he matures he will
carry our research forward to new heights, as it were."
Niobe was taken aback. Evidently the Prof was a crea -- ture of superlatives! "I only
showed him the local -- I do have some interest in -- "
"Indeed you do, Mrs. Kaftan!" he agreed. "He tells me that he owes it all to you. He says
you took an ignorant hick and showed him the wetlands in a way he had never seen, and it changed
his life. Mrs. Kaftan, you are a won -- derful woman, and I salute you!"
She found herself halfway overwhelmed by the Profs enthusiasm. He was not bad at
motivation himself! "Then

32 With a Tangled Skein

Cedric is -- doing well?" It sounded inane, but she couldn't think of an adequate remark at the moment.
"Straight A's," he agreed. "And we do not issue those lightly! But that does not begin to suggest his potential. Do you know, Mrs. Kaftan, if I may be so candid, at first I wondered why a woman as lovely as you have been confirmed to be would marry such a youngster, as ob- | viously you could pick and choose among the best the j War has left us, but as I came to know him, I understood that you had picked the best. There is only one like him in each generation. You will never regret that decision, I
am sure!"
"Uh, yes," Niobe agreed faintly. "Cedric worships the ground you tread, and I am not certain I mean that figuratively. If you had sent him to business school, he would have become in due course a tycoon. What a loss that would have been for science and magic! You turned him instead to the wetlands -- " He shook his head, then impulsively reached out to take her hand, lift it to his lips, and kiss it. "My most abiding gratitude, Mrs. Kaftan. If there is ever any favor you re -- quire of me, do not hesitate to ask."
She found herself back outside in the sun, dazed. No wonder Cedric was doing well; the Prof was an amazing catalyst. Probably he treated everyone like that, turning each student on. Still, he had had no need to call Cedric brilliant unless it was true. She had known Cedric was smart; apparently she had underestimated him. The col -- lege environment had evidently brought out the best in
him. Cedric finished his class and rejoined her. He was still
a tousle-headed youngster under his banded cap, but now she fancied she could see the smartness in him, radiating out from his head. She remembered the magic of his music. Yes, there was definitely more to him than youth!
Piers Anthony 33
But again, in her private presence, he became shy and awkward. "I -- it's great to see you, Niobe," he said. "What do you want to do?"
"Well, I will need to check your wardrobe," she said. "I'm sure your clothing is wearing out and will need at -- tention." Which was not at all what she wanted to say and, indeed, fell comfortably into the major category of Things Never to Be Said, because she was being moth -- erly. But she couldn't even conceive of, let alone for -- mulate, what she might have intended to say. The Profs remarks had colored her perspective, and she had not yet completed her readjustment. She liked to keep things or -- derly, like threads in a tapestry, and hated it when a thread broke. But mending a thread was a special process, re -- quiring time and consideration.
"Uh, sure," he agreed somewhat lamely. "You always take good care of me."
Damn it! she thought furiously. She had definitely done it again, putting him in the junior role. How could he ever become a true husband this way?
So she wended her way home, bearing a burden of tan -- gled feelings greater than before. She might be an expert weaver of ornamental tapestries, but she was plainly in -- adequate in marriage. She had expected to marry a more experienced man and just wasn't competent to educate a younger one in the necessary way. If only there were a college course in -
She halted that thought in place. No, she certainly didn't want Cedric taking that kind of course! Not with those colleens! Marriage was a private thing.
The winter passed somewhat bleakly, and when the ice melted from the surface of the swamp, she proceeded again to the college. This time the students were out in force, enjoying the first genuinely nice day in some time. Some of the more voluptuous girls were in very brief out -- fits for sunning, and the youths were in shorts. Niobe,

34 With a Tangled Skein \
conscious of the flattery of the Prof last time, and not wishing to be taken for a college girl, had garbed herself this time in very conservative fashion. She wore an old-fashioned long
skirt her mother had outgrown, and a figure-de-emphasizing jacket. Her hair was severely bound
back in a bun, she wore no makeup, and She had button-down boots. She felt quite dowdy. She checked Cedric's room, but he was not there, and she wasn't sure what class he might
be in at the moment. So she sat on a bench near the dormitory and waited for his return, taking
advantage of the time to do some knit -- ting. She was good at that too; in fact she was adept at
any type of yarn manipulation. It really was pleasant enough here, and of course she had arrived
early; he wouldn't be expecting her for perhaps another hour.
Several college youths came walking along the path. They had evidently been drinking; in
fact one still carried a bottle of red wine, half-finished. Niobe's nose wrinkled; she detested wine of every type, ever since the disaster during the courtship. She was
surprised and not pleased that its use was permitted on the campus. Was Cedric being subjected to
bad influences?
One of the youths paused as they passed her bench. "Say, who's the old lady?" he demanded half-facetiously, staring at Niobe. She knew she looked older than the col -- lege girls, as was her intent, but he was exaggerating. He was the one with the bottle, showing signals of intoxi -- cation; as he paused, he lifted the bottle and took another swig. A driblet of pale red fluid ran
down the side of his chin; then he lowered the bottle and burped.
"Somebody's mother," another youth joked. Oh, that stung, for a private reason she would
never let them know, "Hey, whose mother are you?" the first demanded. "No one's," Niobe replied
primly. "I am Cedric's wife."
Piers Anthony 35
"His wife!" the youth exclaimed. "He never let on he was robbing the retirement home! He
always claimed his woman was beautiful!" And all four of them laughed coarsely.
Niobe tried to ignore their gibes, hoping they would go away, but the wine gave them
persistent insolence. They closed about her, their wine-soaked breaths fouling the air. "Please go
away," she said at last.
"But we just got here!" the bottle-holder said. "And it's our dorm! Come on, old lady, you
gonna show us a good time?" He reached for her jacket and grabbed the lapel, yanking the front
open so that a button popped off. "I'll bet you got some good stuff hidden away in there!" Niobe jerked away and slapped his hand.
"Hey!" he exclaimed as the others laughed. Then his mouth turned mean. "Hit me, will you?
Well, how do you like thisV And he poured the red wine on her head.
Niobe gave a cry of surprise and dismay and jumped up, trying to get away from the stream.
But he caught her arm. "Beautiful woman, hell!" he said breathily. "You're just a damned slut!" She kicked him in the shin and spun away, knowing it was not possible to reason with
drunkenness. But one of the other youths caught her about the shoulders from be -- hind and heaved
her off the ground. A third grabbed her legs. "Come on, let's see what she's made of!" he cried.
"Pull her skirt off!"
Niobe struggled valiantly, drawing up her legs and then shoving, but the youths were too
strong for her. They held her at shoulders and feet, and the bottle-wielder dropped the spent
container and groped for her skirt, hauling it down over her legs so that her undergarments were
ex -- posed. "Say, she's not so old!" he said, pausing to squeeze her left thigh. Niobe screamed, but it did no good. The youth jerked her skirt down to her ankles, and the
one holding her feet
36
Piers Anthony 37
With a Tangled Skein
let go of one so that the wadded skirt could pass around it. She tried to kick him, but he
caught her ankle again and pushed it away, forcing her legs to spread. "Look at those legs!" he
exclaimed.
"Get her down on the ground," the bottle-youth di -- rected. "Hold her still, and we'll
take turns." He licked his lips and loosened his belt.
"Turns at what?" a new voice demanded.
Niobe recognized it. "Cedric!" she cried.
Indeed it was he, standing tall and dynamic as he flung away his jacket. "That is my
wife," he said, and it was as if a cloud crossed his face, turning his normally sunny expression
pale and grim.
No pretense was possible, at this stage. "Get him!' the bottle-youth cried. They dropped Niobe and turned as one to face Cedric. They closed on him from four sides,
not so drunk as to give him any fair chance singly.
"No!" she cried, knowing that Cedric could not pos -- sibly prevail against four. She
tried to get up, but her feet got tangled in her skirt and she had to pause to get it on again. As
she did, she watched with dread while the four attacked her husband.
Two took hold of Cedric's arms while a third drew back his fist and struck Cedric in the
stomach. Niobe winced -- but Cedric just grinned. "God, he's like a damn rock!" the youth
exclaimed, amazed.
"Now you have had the first blow," Cedric said. "I'll have the last."
Suddenly Cedric brought his arms together in front of him, hauling the two in from the
sides as if they were puppets. They stumbled along, colliding with each other. Then he flung his
arms out again, and they fell away on either side. Cedric was free.
He stepped forward, his two fists swinging like sledge -- hammers. One connected to the
gut of the youth who
had struck him, and his stomach was more like mush than rock. He folded forward, the wind
gushing out of him -- just as Cedric's other fist slammed into the side of his head. The youth's
hair flew wide and he staggered and fell, semiconscious.
Cedric whirled and struck the bottle-youth on the chest. The air whooshed out of him, too,
and he sank to his knees. But the remaining two had regained their feet and were charging in
again.
Cedric ducked down, caught one of them by arm and leg, lifted him on his shoulders, and
hurled him into the other.
As suddenly as it had begun, the fight was over. Cedric stood, his chest heaving, the
muscles of his upper arms bulging; the four youths were spread in various ignomi -- nious
attitudes about the lawn. Niobe was virtually spell -- bound, looking at him. Suddenly he seemed
twice the size he had been before.
Then he stepped across to help her up. "You all right, Niobe? I heard your scream and I
got out of that class -- "
"Cedric -- you never told me you could fight like that!"
He shrugged. "You told me I'd be through with that."
Now she remembered. He had liked to fight. She had presumed it to be mere mischief. She
looked around at the four. Some mischief! "Perhaps I spoke prematurely. Just what kind of fighting
did you do?"
"Well, I was bare-knucks champ of my district, junior division. But you were right; I had
to put aside childish things when I got married."
"Childish things!" she echoed, shaking her head. In her spot memory she saw him again,
shrugging off a solid blow to the stomach; saw the two youths almost jerked off their feet as he
drew his arms together, then flung like rag dolls to the ground. Now she felt the amazing power of
those arms, as he held her steady. She should have gotten the

38 With a Tangled Skein
hint when he had shown her how to split wood, for his strength had been there then. "And I called you a bonnie boy!"

Now a crowd was gathering, and the Prof she had talked to before appeared. "What happened here?"
The bottle-youth struggled to his feet. "He set upon us!" he cried, pointing at Cedric. "For no reason!"
Niobe's mouth dropped open at the audacity of this lie. But she realized that there had been no witnesses to the initial part of this incident -- just her and the fouryouths. The word of four against the word of one.
"Shall we see?" the Prof inquired, as if unconcerned. He spied the bottle and picked it up, frowning. "Good -- a drop remains. We shall invoke the water magic."
He brought out a little dish containing a film of mold, set it carefully on the ground, and upended the bottle over it. A driblet of wine descended into the dish.
There was a pause. Then a reddish glow developed at the dish. It expanded rapidly, and there were roils of vapor in it, as the wine was vaporized in the magic pattern stimulated by the potent mold. An enchantment of water, certainly; Niobe was fascinated. She had known of such magic, but had never before actually observed it.
"Move back, give room," the Prof warned. "We do not want to interfere with the recreation."
They all moved back, even the youths, who seemed to be completely intimidated by the Profs presence. The vapor diffused into the entire area, and stabilized, lending a reddish cast to the air. Then it swirled and coalesced into a ghostly image: a woman seated on the bench. "This is a ten-minute spell," the Prof explained. "It should be enough."
"But I don't think the wine was here yet," Cedric said. "It had to have come with them."
"That is why the picture is fuzzy," the Prof agreed. "You did not suppose my magic was vague, did you, lad?
Piers Anthony 39
The wine was distant, but the magic is here; it is re -- creating a still scene until further definition is possible."
Several minutes passed. No one moved. All were ab -- sorbed by the promise of the water magic.
Then, abruptly, the image brightened. The woman be -- came Niobe, in color, though tinged with the red of the wine's eye. The four youths barged into the scene, ghostly yet clear. The early stages of the molestation were reen -- acted. Niobe felt Cedric wince as the wine was poured over her figure's head; he had the same bad associations that she did.
"So this is your 'no reason,'" the Prof murmured, glancing at the youths.
At the height of the struggle, Cedric entered the picture. Now, seeing him more objectively, Niobe was even more impressed with his demeanor. He had indeed been grow -- ing; he seemed inches taller than he had been the day of his marriage, and was now a young giant of a man. He was so handsome in his righteous anger that a nimbus seemed to surround him. Or was that the wine-haze?
Niobe saw now that Cedric had actually invited them to grab his arms, and had deliberately accepted the first blow. She saw the youth who had struck him pull back, shaking his right hand as if it had been hurt. Then Cedric started to fight, and in moments it was over. Bare-knucks champ? Surely so!
The scene ended and the vapor dissipated into invisi -- bility. But the evidence was in. "Clean out your rooms," the Prof directed the youths. "You will be discharged from this institution with prejudice; your illicit wine has condemned you." They scrambled up and sheepishly de -- parted.
The Prof turned to Cedric. "You were intelligent to provide them the initiation of the combat; now there will be no question of abuse of your power. You were aware that folk of your prowess are enjoined from abusing it?"
40
With a Tangled Skein
Piers Anthony
Cedric nodded soberly. "I knew I had cause, but if I
killed anyone -- "
"You had cause, and you did not kill anyone," the Prof agreed. "1 commend you on your discretion. Now take your wife to the guest house; she is in need of cleaning
and comfort."
Indeed, now that the threat was over, Niobe was suf -- fering a reaction. She had almost been raped -- and Cedric had been set upon by four men! Never before in her life had she been exposed to violence like this. She put her face in her hands, and discovered it wet with tears, red -- dened by wine. She tried to wipe them away, but they just got worse, and soon she was openly sobbing.
Cedric picked her up and carried her to the guest house. She felt his arms like flexible steel, and his chest and stomach like iron; he was seventeen now, coming into the flush of his physical potential. Growing...
She had locked in the image of a boy, and never ob -- served the emerging man.
He set her carefully down on the bed of the guest house. "I will fetch the nurse," he said, concerned. "You are
hurt."
But she clung to him. "Cedric, 1 need you!" she cried.
"I love you!"
He paused. "You're upset, Niobe, with reason. A bath
and some rest -- "
She drew him down, desperately. "I've been such a fool, and I reek of wine! Forgive me, Cedric!"
"There is nothing to forgive," he said gently. But he allowed himself to be brought down to her until he was lying beside her on the bed. "You have always been per -- fect, Niobe," he added, murmuring into her ear.
She rolled onto him, hugging him close. Her tear-wet lips found his and she kissed him with a passion that as -- tonished her. Her breast was suffused with reaction and emotion; she could not get enough of him. He responded, as he had to, to the fire other desire, kissing her in return.
Suddenly she laughed. Startled, he lifted his head to look at her questioningly.
She sat up, reached for his shirt, and unbuttoned it. "There!" she said, smiling. "I have had the first blow."
Slowly he smiled. "But this is no fight."
"Isn't it? We have been trying to do this for most of a year, and have always been defeated by our own reti -- cence. Cedric, you have fought for me, most valiantly and effectively, and now you have won me. Take your spoils!"
"Spoils!" he muttered wryly. "You are the woman I love."
"And you are the man I love!" she replied gladly. "I want to be yours -- completely."
He kissed her. Then he undressed her. Her blouse was sticky with drying wine, and her hair was matted with it, but she knew better than to pause for even a minute to clean up. Now was the time to strike!
Now Cedric looked at her body. She smiled and reached up to him. She knew that her reaction was no more important than his and that their physical interaction was only a portion of their emotional one. For the first time she truly desired him, and for the first time he be -- lieved he deserved her.
Still, he was inexperienced, as was she. She helped him as much as she could without seeming aggressive and, when he hesitated, she held him and kissed him passion -- ately; when he sought to come into her and found the way obscure and paused in confusion, she thrust herself at him and abated the obscurity herself. It hurt -- but with the pain came an unutterable pleasure and a closeness she

42 With a Tangled Skein
had never before known. "Cedric...Cedric..." she whispered, and gently bit his bare shoulder.

Yet simultaneously she found herself in the bog, by the water oak, seeing it from three sides. From one side she viewed it with the freshness of youth and innocence, as if seeing it for the very first time. From another side she viewed it with the cynical eye of experience, understand -- ing its nature and appreciating it for what it was. From the third side she viewed it with the significance of age. She had an endless memory of it in all its seasons, spun out into an eternal thread and wound about her distaff, the small staff on which her yarn was wound for spinning. She was aware of its entire history. Yet the three views were one, faceted, neither merged nor separated; all three views comprised the impression of the whole, like colors or contrasts. She understood that tree!

Somehow, too, there was a fourth view, but shrouded, and she knew that it was one she never wanted to see, for it was completely horrible. Yet it, too, was part of the whole, the painful aspect of a generally positive reality.

Then the moment of ultimate rapture passed, fading into a more general but pleasant awareness. She remained locked in Cedric's embrace as the great tide ebbed. Im -- pulsively, she kissed him again. "Now I am possessed," she whispered. The word had a triple or quadruple layer of meaning, relating to property, sexual expression, and diabolical awareness. Her vision of the water oak seemed to have fragmented her consciousness, so that what had seemed simple now seemed marvelously complex.

In due course Cedric, fulfilled, fell asleep. Now Niobe became aware of her discomfort. She got up, carefully cleaned herself, washed her hair, and applied some heal -- ing salve. She did not want Cedric to think he had hurt her, though it was a pain that changed her life. Then she checked the bed and spied the stain of blood on the sheet;

Piers Anthony 43
how was she to conceal that? Certainly she did not want that going through the college laundry, betraying to the staff not only what they had been up to, but that it had been the first
time. So she fetched a sponge, dampened it, and worked on the stain until it had faded to the
point ofunidentifiability. Now, at last, she could relax.
She lay down -- and Cedric stirred. She took his hand, kissed it, and murmured a soothing
word to him, and he drifted off again. She was relieved; she loved him, but right now she wanted
to sleep.
In the morning she returned home, leaving Cedric to his studies and his phenomenal new
memories. But she did not allow much time to elapse before she visited him again. It was not that
she had suddenly become a sexual creature -- she had been advised by her mother that no woman
could match the appetite of any man in this re -- spect -- but that she missed him and wanted to
be with him as much as possible. Her tidy house no longer sat -- isfied her. She wanted it to be
animated again by Cedric's presence. She was indeed in love.
They made love again in the guest house, and this time it was easier because they were
slightly experienced. Also, as she thought wryly, she was broken in. Again she responded almost as
rapidly and emphatically as he, de -- spite her mother's cautions, for love propelled her. Again,
at the climactic moment, she had a vision.
This time, as she stood before the water oak, she saw a spider climbing an invisible
strand. / can do that, she thought. She reached up and caught hold of her own in -- visible strand
and climbed it, for she had four hands and four feet. In fact she was a spider, the ultimate
spinner and weaver. What a web she would make! But then the ecstasy abated, and she was human
again, relaxing in the embrace of her beloved.
She thought to ask him whether he, too, had visions in
44
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With a Tangled Skein
that moment, but she desisted, fearing that it would seem that she was bored with
lovemaking. She wasn't; in fact it seemed more likely that her visions represented a tran --
scendent overflow of pleasure. When a system was stim -- ulated beyond its rated capacity, it
could short out or blow off; could this be why the images were so far removed from the present
experience?
She had no decent answer -- but she would be glad to explore the matter further. She liked
making love to Ced -- ric, and she liked the visions, even if the thematic con -- nection between
the two was tenuous. "Oh, Cedric!" she exclaimed, hugging him again. "I'm so glad we found each
other at last!"
"You're still the perfect woman," he said, and fell asleep.
"You foolish man," she murmured fondly, and nibbled on his ear.
Cedric completed his first year of college with outstand -- ing grades and came home for
the summer. He now knew more than Niobe did about the wetlands, and she was fascinated by the lore
he had acquired. He would squat by a stagnant pool and scoop out a handful of glop and show her
how the algae in it emitted little spells of nausea to discourage such interference. It was true;
when she came close to the handful, she felt like retching, but when she stepped back she felt all
right. Of course the smell might account for it -- but it didn't help to hold her nose, so she was
satisfied that it was, as he said, magic. He was able to identify the exact species of water oak
near their cabin, and the variety ofhamadryad too. He knew where the timid forest deer hid and
what their preferred forage was. "I owe it all to you, Niobe," he said generously. "You showed me
the wetlands!"
"I'll cry, I'll cry when the wetlands are dry," she agreed, smiling. How little had she
realized what her in -- nocent song would start!
And of course they made love again, for the first time at home, erasing their prior
failures here. Once more she launched into vision -- but this time it was sinister. She saw the
face of a saturnine man -- and that man's mouth curled into a sneer, and he winked at her. She
screamed and snapped from the vision to find Cedric frozen in mid -- motion, horrified that he had
somehow hurt her.
"No, no," she reassured him immediately. "It wasn't you! I had a bad dream." "You were asleep?" he asked incredulously.
Then she had to tell him of the visions, for the mis -- understanding would be worse than
the reality. He ad -- mitted that he did not have such visions, but had heard of those who did.
"Mostly women," he concluded.
"Oh? How do you know about women?" she asked archly.
"My text in human biology," he said. "It's one of the freshman required courses." So she was, after all, typical. "But the awful face -- why would I see that, when I'm
having such joy of you?"
He shrugged. "Maybe we should stop those visions."
"Oh, Cedric, I don't want to stop -- "
"I said visions, not love!" he said, laughing. He was no longer shy about sex; once he had
gotten into it, he liked it. "I'll try to sing to you, next time."
The notion appealed to her. The rapture of his magic superimposed on that of the loveplay
- the ultimate ex -- perience!
They tried it, and it worked. He did not even have to sing aloud; if he ran the song
through in his mind, the orchestra played for her, and no visions came, no matter how transported
she was by the experience.
So it went through the summer. In the fall it was time for college again, and she packed
him off with genuine regret. But he had a real future, once he completed his

46 With a Tangled Skein
education, and she refused to deny him that. She would suffer through the separation and visit him often.
But it was harder on her than she had anticipated. She felt chronically out of sorts, and sometimes ill. Then she got nauseous in the mornings. What was wrong with her?
Suddenly she realized: she wasn't ill -- she was with child.

SHOOTING DEER
She had to tell him, of course. She did so on the next visit. Cedric was amazed at what he had wrought, and pleased. "I'll be a father!" he exclaimed, as if this were a com -- pletely unique experience.
"Well, it isn't as if you didn't try for it," she reminded him.
"I guess that will have to stop now," he said regret -- fully.
"No, not yet. Just -- carefully."
They were careful. The winter passed, and the baby expanded within her. When Niobe reached the eighth month, her mother came to stay with her and midwife the birth if it occurred early, for there was no convenient hos -- pital. Cedric was ready to quit college and come home, but Niobe made him remain to complete his courses; he had gone too far to throw it away now. So it was that, before he turned eighteen and just before he made it home for the summer, Cedric became the father of a healthy son.
47

48 With a Tangled Skein

He was pleased -- but he knew there was a price. Niobe had been able to make do alone, but she would no longer be able to do that. Cedric had to retire from college and become a full-time family man. He was ready -- but she knew he also regretted it. It had been clear that if he had continued his program at the college, he could have be -- come a professional, perhaps even a professor in due course. He could still be one -- but now there would be a delay, and by the time he could return, years hence, the situation could have changed. So it was a calculated risk for Cedric's career. Almost, she wished she had not con -- ceived so quickly.

"It doesn't matter," Cedric said. "A man's got to do what he's got to do in the time he has, and I want to be with you."
"That's sweet," she said, and rewarded him with a kiss. Still, she felt guilty.
"Prof told me that if he'd had a wife who looked like you, she would have had a baby just as fast," he added.
"Still, you have such a good career awaiting you; you must return to it as soon as possible."
"We'll see," he said.
But when she thought of the baby, her mood swung the other way. Junior was an absolute joy! She knew from the first hour that he would be a genius like his father -- and he would have proper schooling from the outset. Oh, she had such dreams for Junior!
Cedric took care of things, pretty well running the household until she was back on her feet. Then, as time opened up, he began spending time in the swamp. He was making a chart of the local ecology -- the trees, the smaller vegetation, the animals, the insects, the algae, the wa -- terflows, and the observable interactions between them.
Hunters roamed the forest, in and out of hunting sea -- son, poaching game. Cedric came across the remains and grew angry. "If the deer shot back, the hunters would be
Piers Anthony 49
less bold!" he exclaimed. Then he paused in realization. "Maybe I can arrange for the deer to shoot back!"
Niobe laughed -- but he was serious. He was a wetlands major, not a magic major, but he got a tome of spells and searched through it, trying to find one that could be adapted to his purpose. If magic could bounce an arrow or a bullet back on its origin, so that the hunter in effect shot himself -
But magic was no subject for amateurs, any more than science was. It required years of study to master the basic precepts and stem discipline; even then it had its special hazards. Cedric was smart, but more than intelligence was needed. "I just don't have the time!" he exclaimed, frus -- trated.
"You're welcome to take all the time you want, dear," Niobe said. She was nursing Junior and hated to see Ced -- ric upset. When he was annoyed, she tended to echo the feeling involuntarily, and it seemed to change the milk and make Junior colicky, and if there was one thing worse than an upset husband, it was a colicky baby.
Cedric paused as if weighing something momentous. "Of course," he agreed, and went outside. Had she some -- how offended him? Her husband seemed more nervous, irritable, and generally tense than he had been. Maybe she should try to hire a maid for the chores so that Cedric could, after all, return to college. She knew what a sac -- rifice he was making and she wanted to set things right. Their love was so wonderful that she hated to have any strains put on it.
But when she broached the matter, later in the day, Cedric would have none of it. "I'm through with college!" he declared. "My destiny is here."
"But the Prof said you have such potential! I think he wants you to become a -- "
He put his big hand on hers. She felt a stirring of the music in him, but this time it was a strange, discordant,
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With a Tangled Skein
disturbing sound. "It would not be worth the cost," he said. "Prof understands."
She experienced a kind of dread, but could not fathom its cause. The flickering image of a demonic face came to her, and one of the water oak, three of whose views were positive, the fourth an unglimpsed horror. What cost? Separation from her? Yet Cedric had endured that before and prospered. Why had he changed his mind?
"Cedric -- is something wrong?"
"Of course not," he said quickly.
She didn't believe him, but realized that he would not tell her the truth. That disturbed her further, and she had to stop nursing Junior. She was sure it wasn't any fault in Cedric's love for her; that was unfailing. He was a father new, a proven man, yet sometimes even now she would be working at the loom, and would look up to dis -- cover him watching her with a touching expression of ad -- oration. No, he loved her and wanted to be with her. Still -- She laid Junior in the crib. "Cedric, we could move closer to the college so you could commute -- "
He took her in his arms and kissed her. "This is our home. I love you -- and the wetlands. My life is here."
So it seemed. She did not try to argue further, and in -- deed their life together was good. They resumed making love as she recovered from childbearing, and Cedric was enormously gentle and, he sang to her, and in those mo -- ments it seemed that nothing else mattered.
As Niobe grew stronger, she started taking Junior for walks outdoors, for fresh air was good for babies. He seemed to like the wetlands, especially the huge water oak. Niobe would sit at the foot of the tree and sing, and Junior would listen. The hamadryad got used to the new arrival and came to like Junior. She didn't quite trust Niobe, for adults had a long and bad history of cynicism toward wild magic, but when Niobe set the baby in his
carrier by the tree and retreated a reasonable distance, the dryad would come down and play with him. Niobe was thrilled; very few mortals could approach any of the wilderness creatures, either natural or supernatural, and it was a mark of special favor when one could. Maybe Junior would grow up to be a world-famous naturalist! Certainly there was no threat from the dryad; Cedric had assured her of that, and she believed it. In the dryad's presence Junior was always alert and smiling.
Events elsewhere were not as sanguine. A developer bought a large tract of land that included their swamp. It was theirs in proximity and spirit, not in the eyes of geo -- graphic law. The company planned to drain the swamp, cut down the trees, and build a number of identical houses there.
Cedric exploded. He trekked to all the residents for miles around and so impressed them with the need to pre -- serve the wetlands that they formed a citizen's committee to oppose the development. They wrote letters to news -- papers and the county authorities; when these failed to halt the project, they set about constructing deadfalls for bulldozers. They filed suit in court to stop it. When the company lawyer tried to suggest the swamp was nothing more than a murky waste that posed a public health threat as a breeding ground for disease-carrying mosquitoes, Cedric argued persuasively that those mosquitoes carried no diseases in this region, being the wrong species for that, served as food for pretty birds, and wouldn't even bite people who were sensibly protected by repellent or a spell. Then he spoke of the other aspects of the wet -- lands -- the fish and amphibians, the foxes and deer, the trees that could grow nowhere else, the special interactive magic these living things had developed to get along. "There is no bad water coming from this region," he con -- cluded, and he had documentation to prove it: studies the college had made. "No erosion, no bad flooding. The wet -
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With a Tangled Skein
lands keep the water pure and contained, so that we who live near it can live at peace with nature. Too little of this kind of natural paradise remains; how can we pave it over with another foul city!" And such was the nature of his eloquence that the spectators in the courtrooms ap -- plauded. Few had really cared about the wetlands before;
now they all did.
But man's law remained on the side of the developer, and the judge, with open regret, ruled in favor of the com -- pany. The bulldozers would be allowed to forage in the swamp.
"I'm so sorry," Niobe told him, but Cedric only shrugged. "They will be stopped," he said grimly. But he didn't say how.
One foggy morning Cedric kissed her with special ten -- derness and lifted Junior out of his crib. "I'm taking him for a walk down to the oak," he said.
She was pleased -- but somehow alarmed too. There seemed to be an edge to his final words: "We'll be there." Yet they were innocent words, and the water oak was the safest kind of place for the baby; the hamadryad was vir -- tually a babysitter now. In fact, the nymph had begun to teach the baby some wild magic -- and if there was one thing rarer than the company of a dryad, it was the sharing of the magic of a dryad. Junior, too young to walk or talk, nevertheless did seem to understand and almost seemed to be able to do a spell. So why should there be any con -- cern? Niobe knew she was being foolish. There was, she reminded herself firmly, absolutely no threat to Junior.
She labored at the loom, forming a fine picture of that very tree, and as her hands moved, largely of their own volition, she daydreamed. The image of the tree fogged out and was replaced by that of the saturnine face. "Today I come for you!" it said, grinning evilly. "My emissary is on its way and cannot be stopped. You are doomed, mistress of the skein!"
Niobe screamed. The image vanished, and there was only the forming tapestry. She was shuddering with re -- action. This was the vision other lovemaking rapture, but it was quite foreign to love. Cedric had banished it by his music, but now it was terrorizing her directly! What did it mean?
Then she heard a shot. She jumped. That was the sound of a gun -- and it was from the direction of the swamp -- and Cedric was there with Junior. He had no gun!
Horribly alarmed, she rushed outside and ran headlong down the winding path to the oak. As she approached, she heard a thin screaming from the tree. It was the dryad, hanging by a branch, shrieking with all her frail strength. Below her was the carrier, overturned.
"Junior!" Niobe cried, her horror magnifying. She scrambled to the tree and took hold of the carrier.
Junior was in it, his body smudged with dirt, and now he bawled lustily. But he seemed to be unhurt. He had overturned and that had alarmed him; that was all.
She glanced up at the dryad. No, of course she wouldn't have tried to hurt the baby! In fact the nymph was still screaming, one little hand pointing away from the tree, to the dark lower side where the gloom of the swamp was strong.
Niobe looked in that direction -- and saw Cedric's body sprawled in the bushes. Suddenly her premonition of dread had a sharp new focus. Not her baby -- her husband!
She ran to him. He was face down, and blood welled from the wound in his belly. He had been shot! He was unconscious, but his heart still beat.
She looked up -- and the dryad was there, for the mo -- ment away from her tree. "What -- who -- ?" Niobe asked, forgetting that dryads do not talk.
The nymph took a stick and held it like a rifle, then shook it to suggest its firing. But Niobe already knew he

34 With a Tangled Skein had been shot. "Have you any magic -- for his wound?" she demanded. The dryad ran back to her tree, ran up it as a squirrel
might, and disappeared into the foliage. She returned in
a moment with a small branch.
Niobe took this and touched it to the wound. The flow of blood abated. The nymph's magic

was helping! "Thank
you," Niobe said. But how was she to get Cedric back to the cabin -- and what was she to do with him there? He weighed far more than she and would be almost

impossible to drag, and the movement could kill him. And there was the baby! The dryad pointed to the tree. "You'll help?" Niobe
asked. "He'll be safe, there, for a while?"
The nymph nodded yes. So Niobe struggled to drag Cedric the short distance to the tree and there she propped him against its healing trunk. "I'll bring help!" she told the dryad as she picked Junior up and hurried away.
Some hours later, that phase of the nightmare was done. Cedric was in the distant hospital, receiving the best care, and his family and hers had been notified. Both were quick to respond. But that was as far as the good news extended. Cedric was on the critical list and sinking. The bullet had damaged his spinal nerve, paralyzing him, and it had evidently carried an unidentified infection that was now spreading through his weakened system. "We can keep him alive for perhaps a week," the doctor said grimly. "He has a fine constitution; otherwise he would be dead already. Even if we could save him, he would be crippled below the waist and in constant pain, and there is a chance of brain damage. It would, I regret to say, be kinder to
let him die."
"No!" Niobe cried. "I love him!" "We all love him," the doctor said. "He was doing a
great thing for the land. But we cannot save him."
Piers Anthony 55
"But we may be able to avenge him," the wetlands lawyer said. "Obviously the developer arranged to have him assassinated so he could no longer rally the people against the building project."
"But they had already won!" Niobe protested. "Why should they do this now?"
"They must have been afraid he was planning some -- thing new."
Niobe remembered Cedric's confidence that the de -- veloper would be stopped. Indeed, he must have been planning something! But that was no comfort to her now;
she wanted him alive and whole.
"How can I save him?" she asked, clinging to that hope.
The doctor and the lawyer looked at each other. "You must appeal to a higher court," the lawyer said.
"What court is that?"
"The Incarnation of Death," the doctor said. "IfThan -- atos will agree to spare him, he will live."
She was ready to grasp at any straw. "Then I will ap -- peal to Death! Where can I find him?"
Both men spread their hands. They did not know. "We do not go to Death," the doctor said. "Death comes to us, at the moment of his choosing, not ours."
Niobe took Junior and traveled hastily to the college. There she sought the old Prof. "How can I find Death?" she pleaded.
The Prof gazed at her unhappily. "Lovely woman, you do not want to do this."
"Don't tell me that!" she blazed at him. "I love him!"
He did not misunderstand. It was Cedric she loved, not Death. "And do you also love your baby?"
She froze. "You mean -- I must choose between them?"
"In a manner. You, perhaps, might reach Thanatos -- but your baby is beneath the age of discretion. He would

56 With a Tangled Skein
die. If you insist on making this terrible journey, you must
in fairness leave him behind." She looked at Junior, horrified. "But -- 1 can recover him, after -- ?" "If you are successful," he said. "But, Mrs. Kaftan,
you have no guarantee of success. This is no ordinary person you seek; he is a

supernatural entity. You may
never return from such a journey."
"Suppose -- 1 place my baby with a good family?" she asked with difficulty. "So that if I

don't -- don't return -
he will be well cared for?"
"That would be an expedient course," he agreed. "Of
course you would have to take a lactation-abate -- ment spell, and arrange to have him fed

from a bottle
while -- "
"Then you will tell me how to reach Death?" "Then I will do that," he agreed reluctantly.

"I did,
after all, make you a promise to help you when you
asked."
She drove her carriage hastily to the farm of Cedric's
cousin, Pacian. Pacian himself was twelve years old, six years younger than Cedric, but

his parents were kindly folk with a strong sense of family loyalty. Yes, they would board Junior; he was, after all, their kin, a Kaftan. Pacian, a pleasant-faced lad who reminded her eerily of Cedric,

welcomed Junior as a little brother.

Then, with confused emotion and more than a tear or two, she returned to the college, where the Prof would show her the way to Death.
There was a small lake beside the college, and they had taken an old, unseaworthy sailboat and spruced it up for the event. Its leaks had been temporarily caulked, and its sail was lashed in position. This craft could proceed only one way: directly before the wind. But physical direction didn't matter; spiritual impulse was what counted.
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The small deck was piled with kerosene-soaked brush. A single spark would render the boat into a bonfire in an instant. The sail was charcoal black and painted with a picture of a bleached skull and crossbones: not the symbol of piracy, in this case, but that of Death. Indeed, this was a deathboat.
Niobe stepped onto the pier. She wore her most elegant black evening gown, with black gloves and slippers, and her flowing honey hair was bound by a black ribbon. There was a murmur of awe from the assembled college students, male and female,as she appeared, and she knew that she had never been more beautiful. The anti-lac spell had halted her production of mother's milk, but her breasts remained quite well developed.
The Prof stood at the end of the pier by the boat. He looked old and hunched, and his face was as pale as bone. "Ah, lovely woman, it is a horror you face!" he mur -- mured. "Are you quite, quite sure -- ?"
"If Cedric dies, what life is there for me?" she asked rhetorically. She braced herself against his arm and stepped onto the boat. It wobbled in the water, and she hastily sat down.
"Perhaps we shall meet again," the Prof said.
"Of course we shall," she said and blew him a kiss. She knew he had done his best and she trusted his magic. But her expression of confidence papered over a mon -- strous dread within her, akin to that of the fourth face of the water oak tree. She felt like a deer stepping out before the rifle of the hunter. It was in this sense a season for the shooting of deer, and the huntsman was Death him -- self.
"Remember," the Prof cautioned her, "you can jump off, and a swimmer will rescue you." He gestured to three husky young men in swimsuits standing alertly at the shore.

58
With a Tangled Skein Hers Anthony 59
"And forfeit my love?" she asked disdainfully. "I shall
not jump."
"Then God be with you," he said, and it was no casual
expression. He closed his hands together in an attitude of prayer and lifted them toward

the cloudy sky.
Where was God when Cedric was shot? she wondered.
But she smiled. "Cast off, please."
The Prof bent down and lifted the rope from its moor -- ing. The breeze caught the sail

and the craft moved out into the lake. Left to its own devices, it would in due course bump into the far shore -- but she had a different
plan for it. She turned and waved to the folk on the shore behind.
Then she reached into her purse, brought out a big wooden match, and struck it against the hard surface of
the deck. It burst into life.
For a moment she held the little flame before her. Then she clamped her lower lip between her teeth, closed her eyes, and flung the match forward into the brush. If it did not ignite this tinder, would she have the courage to try
it again?
But it caught, and in a moment there was the crackle
of spreading fire. She opened her eyes, and saw the flame and smoke pouring up. The fire did not spread instantly;
it took several seconds to infuse the full pile. Then it in -- tensified, and the sudden heat of it smote her body. The sail caught, and became a bright column.
Now was the time to jump, before fire surrounded her. She was tempted. Then she thought of Cedric, lying crit -- ically ill on the hospital bed, and her resolve solidified. She stood, held her breath, and walked directly into the
conflagration.
Cedric! Cedric! she thought as the flame engulfed her.
/ love you!
Her dress caught fire, and her hair shriveled, but she took one more step, bracing herself against the pain she knew was coming.
It came indeed. All her world became fire. She inhaled, and the fire was inside her, searing her lungs and heart. The agony was exquisite, but she endured it, refusing to collapse or even to scream. Death, I am coming for you!
The boat was formed of flame, now. The caulking popped out and water spurted in, drenching her feet. But the flame danced above it, and the smoke roiled about, as if fighting the water for this living prize. Niobe stood amidst it, her flesh burning, waiting for Death.
A figure came. It was a great stallion, galloping across the surface of the water, bearing a cloaked and hooded man. The horse came to the boat and stopped, standing on the lake. The man dismounted and brought forth a scythe. He scythed the flames as he would a field of tall grass, and the flames were cut off at their bases, their tops falling to one side. A path was cleared through the conflagration, leading to Niobe. Death had arrived.
Thanatos paused beside her and extended his skeletal hand. Niobe took it in her own, feeling the cold bones of his fingers.
Abruptly the pain of the fire abated. Thanatos led her along the scythed path to the pale horse and boosted her up into the saddle, then mounted behind her. The horse leaped into the remaining column of smoke -- and through it, up into the sky.
Soon the stallion was galloping through the clouds above, his hooves sending little divots of fog flying back. Then they emerged to a scene above, where the grass was green and the sun shone warmly. Ahead was a mansion. They came to it, dismounted, and Thanatos guided her inside.

60 With a Tangled Skein

A motherly maid hurried up. "You brought a mortal!" she exclaimed with surprise and perhaps indignation. "See to her restoration," Thanatos ordered gruffly.
"She is not one of mine."
The pain returned when Niobe lost contact with Than -- atos, but the maid hastened to bring salve. Niobe's skin was charred black, but where the salve touched, the nor -- mal flesh was instantly restored. The maid applied it to Niobe's entire body and made her inhale its fumes, and then no pain remained. Niobe stood naked and whole.
"My dear, you are beautiful!" the maid exclaimed, spraying something on the frizzled hair. The hair grew rapidly until it too had been restored to its former golden splendor. "Why should a creature like you try to sui -- cide?"
"I love him," Niobe repeated.
"Ah, love," the maid breathed, understanding. She brought a bathrobe and new slippers. It seemed that the salve could not heal Niobe's incinerated clothing. "Than -- atos awaits you," she said and showed Niobe to a sitting
room.
Death -- Thanatos -- did indeed await her. He was like a stern father in his manner, despite his skull-face and skeletal hands. "You have done a very brave and foolish thing, young woman," he informed her disapprovingly. "You were not on my list. I had to make an emergency
call for you."
"It -- it was the only way to get your attention," she
said, taking the seat indicated. "Thank you for coming."
And she smiled. The skull itself seemed to heighten its color, showing
that Death himself was not immune to beauty. "It had to be done," he said gruffly. "When an unscheduled death occurs, the threads of Fate tangle."
Piers Anthony 61
That was what the Prof had told her. There was a cer -- tain order in the universe, and the Incarnations saw to its preservation. "I -- where am I? In Heaven?"
Thanatos made a derisive snort, despite having no flesh in his nose. "Purgatory," he said. "The place of inde -- cision -- and of decision. All the Incarnations are here."
"Oh. I -- haven't been beyond life before." She was somewhat intimidated by all this.
"And what brought you, ravishing mortal maiden?"
"Oh, I am no maiden! I -- my husband Cedric -- I have come to beg for his life. I love him!"
"Without doubt," Thanatos agreed. He snapped his bone-fingers, and a servant hurried in with a file box. Thanatos opened the box and riffled through the cards. "Cedric Kaftan, age eighteen, to go to Heaven five days hence," he remarked. "A good man, not requiring my personal attention." His square eye-sockets seemed to squint at the card. "A very good man! He loves you well indeed."
"Yes. I must save him. You must -- "
Thanatos gazed at her through the midnight frames of his eyes, and suddenly she felt a chill not of death. It had not occurred to her before that the Incarnation might re -- quire a price for the favor she asked -- and what did she have to offer?
Then she thought again of Cedric, lying in the hospital, and knew that there was no price she would not pay to have him whole again.
But when Thanatos spoke again, he surprised her. "Good and lovely mortal, I cannot do the thing you re -- quest. I do not cause folk to die; I merely see to the proper routing of the souls of those who are fated to die. It is true that I have some discretion; on occasion I will post -- pone a particular demise. But your husband is beyond

62 With a Tangled Skein 63
Piers Anthony
postponement; to extend his life would be only to extend his pain. He will neither walk

nor talk again."
"No!" Niobe cried. It was literal; her tears wet her robe. "He's so young, so bonnie! I
love him!"
Even Death softened before that beauteous plea. "I would help you if I could," Thanatos
said. "To be In -- carnated is not to be without conscience. But the remedy you seek is not within
my province."
"Then whose province is it in?" she demanded bro -- kenly.
"At this point, I suspect only Chronos can help him."
"Who?"
"The Incarnation of Time. He can travel in time, when he chooses, and change mortal events
by acting before they occur. Therefore if he -- "
"Before the shot was fired!" she exclaimed. "So that Cedric is never hurt!" The cowled skull nodded. "That is what Chronos can do."
The strangeness of talking to the Incarnation of Death was fading. The renewed chance to
save Cedric recharged her. "Where -- how -- can I find Chronos?"
"You could search all Purgatory and not find him," Thanatos said. "He travels in time. But
if he cares to meet you, he will do so."
"But I must meet with him! I have so little time -- "
There was a chime that sounded like a funeral gong. "That will be Chronos now," Thanatos
said.
"Now? But how -- ?"
"He knows our future. He is surely responding to the notice I will send him shortly." A servant ushered Chronos in. He was a tall, thin man in a white cloak, bearing an
Hourglass. "Ah, Clotho," he said.
"Who?" she asked, confused.
Chronos looked at her again. "Oh, has it come to that? My apology; it is happening sooner
than I hoped. In that case, you must introduce yourself."
He had evidently mistaken her for someone else. "I -- I am Niobe Kaftan -- a, a mortal
woman," she said.
"Niobe," Chronos repeated as if getting it straight. "Yes, of course. And you are here to
- ?"
"Here to save my husband, Cedric."
He nodded. "That, too. But that really is not wise."
"Not wise!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I love him!"
It was almost as if she had struck the Incarnation. He blanched, but then recovered. "Love
is mortal," Chronos said sadly. "It passes, in the course of time."
"I don't care, so long as it passes naturally! Cedric is dying and he's not yet nineteen!" Chronos shook his head. "I could travel to the moment before his problem commenced and
change the event -- but I hesitate. The interactions can extend far, and we interfere at peril to
the larger fabric."
"But I love him!" she cried. "I must save him!"
Chronos glanced at Thanatos, who shrugged. They might be Incarnations, but they seemed
very much like mortal men, baffled by the hysteria of a mortal woman.
"But you see," Chronos said reasonably, "to change an event, especially this one, could
lead to consequences that none of us would wish."
Niobe began to cry. She put her face in her hands, and the tears streamed in little
rivulets through her spread fingers.
"Perhaps a female Incarnation would handle this bet -- ter," Thanatos said, evidently
feeling awkward. Men tended to, in such situations; they didn't understand about crying. Niobe
didn't like this situation much herself, but she couldn't help her reaction.
"I will take her to Fate," Chronos agreed quickly.

64 With a Tangled Skein
He came to Niobe and drew diffidently on her elbow. "Please come with me, ma'am." At the sound of "ma'am," the term Cedric had used early in their relationship, Niobe burst

into a fresh surge of tears. She was hardly aware of Chronos taking firm hold other with his left hand and raising his glowing Hour -- glass with his right. But suddenly the two of them were zooming through the air and substance of the mansion as if they had become phantoms. That so startled her that her tears ceased.

They phased across a variegated landscape that was not the world she had known. Then they homed in on the most monstrous web Niobe could have imagined, its pat -- tern of silken strands extending out for hundreds of feet in a spherical array. In the center the web thickened, forming a level mat, and on this they came to rest. "How -- what?" she said, amazed and daunted.

"My Hourglass selectively nullifies aspects of the chronological counterspell," Chronos explained. "Ena -- bling me to travel -- oh, you refer to the web? Do not be concerned; this is the Abode of Fate."

"Fate!" she exclaimed, realizing how this might relate to her. "It was Fate who determined that Cedric -- "
"Indeed," he agreed as they walked to the huge cocoon in the middle of this resilient plane. "She should be more competent to satisfy you than I am."
"But -- this is a gigantic spider's nest!" she said.
He smiled. "I assure you, good and lovely woman, that Fate will not consume you in that manner. She is -- much like you."
Now they were at the entrance. Chronos reached up, took hold of a dangling thread, and pulled on it. A bell sounded in the silk-shrouded interior, and in a moment a middle-aged woman clambered out of the hole, very spry for her age. "Why, Chronos!" she exclaimed. "How nice
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to see you, my backward associate!" Her gaze turned on Niobe. "And a mortal woman who shines like the moon!" She glanced slyly back at Chronos. "What are you up to, sir?"
"Lachesis, this is Niobe," he said. "She comes to plead for the life of her husband, who suffered a recent accident. I -- am unable to assist her in this."
Lachesis' eyes narrowed as if he had said something of special significance. Then she studied Niobe with a cer -- tain surmise. "Come in, child," she said at last. "We shall examine your thread." She glanced once more at Chronos. "You, too, honored associate."
They followed her through the hole, which was a finely woven mesh-tunnel that opened into a comfortable inte -- rior. Everything was made of web, but it was so thick and cleverly crafted that it was solid. In fact, it was the ul -- timate in web -- silk. The walls were woven in a tapestry that was a mural, showing scenes of the world, and the floor was a rug so smooth a person could have slept on it without a mattress.
Niobe took a seat on a plush web couch, while Lachesis stood before her, set her hands together, drew them apart, and looked at the lines of web that had appeared magically between her fingers. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "That is a strange one!"
Niobe's brow furrowed. "Do you mean -- me?"
"In a moment, dear," Lachesis said, preoccupied. She looked at Chronos. "Tell me, friend, is this -- ?" she asked. Then she shimmered -- and in her place was a woman of perhaps twenty, quite pretty, with a nimbus of black hair, and cleavage showing. Her dress was yellow, and very short. Then she changed again, and was the mid -- dle-aged woman in brown.
Chronos nodded slowly, affirmatively.
66 With a Tangled Skein
Lachesis seemed dizzy. She plumped into another couch. "Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed. "This is a pretty snarl!"
"I don't understand," Niobe said.
"Of course you don't, dear," Lachesis agreed. "Nei -- ther did I. But Chronos knew, of course." She mopped her forehead with a bright silk handkerchief. "What am I to tell her, sir?"
"I suppose the truth, to the present," he said.
Niobe was increasingly bothered by their attitude. "Of course the truth!" she exclaimed.
Lachesis came to join her on the couch, taking her hand. "My dear, truth can be a complex skein, and often painful. I have looked at your thread, and -- "
"Look at my husband's thread!" Niobe exclaimed. "I must save him!"
Lachesis disengaged, put her hands together, and stretched another gossamer thread between them. "Ced -- ric Kaftan," she said as if reading from a text. "His thread -- " She clapped her hands together, causing the thread to disappear. "Oh, my dear, my dear!"
"You really are Pate? You can save him?"
Lachesis shook her head. "I am Fate -- an Aspect thereof. I determine the length and placement of the threads of human lives. 1 arrange for what befalls each person, in a general way. But this is a special case -- a very special case. I cannot do what you ask."
Now Niobe's sorrow turned to anger. "Why not?" she demanded. "You -- you arranged his death, didn't you?"
"I arranged his death; 1 did not decree it," Lachesis agreed sadly. "I remember the case now. I did not want to do it, but I had to. Now, thanks to Chronos, I begin to understand why."
"Then tell me why!" Niobe cried. "I love him!"
"And he loves you," the woman returned. "More than you can know. My dear, it would only bring you further
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grief to know more. Some deer must die, that the herd prosper."
Some deer! That hurt her anew, for Cedric had tried to protect the deer. "You refuse to tell me?"
Lachesis sighed. "I know how difficult it is for you to understand, Niobe. You are a brave and good woman, and your love is great, but you are mortal. I would help you if I could, but 1 cannot." She raised a hand to forestall Niobe's objection."To a child, life seems a series of ar -- bitrary constraints; the child longs for the freedom of adult existence. But when the child becomes adult, she finds that the constraints remain; they only change their nature, becoming more complex and subtle. Even so, we Incar -- nations appear to have greater freedom of action than do mortals -- but our constraints exist also, of a nature few mortals are equipped to comprehend. I can only assure you that a situation beyond your control and mine decrees that your husband must die. I can only say I'm sorry."
"Sorry!" Niobe flared. "Sorry! What possible justifi -- cation can you have for arranging the death of a man as noble as Cedric?"
"I have two," Lachesis said. "One I may not tell you, and the other I will not."
"Then send me to someone who will tell me!"
Lachesis shrugged. "Perhaps Mars; he is aggres -- sive -- "
"I will take her to him," Chronos said.
Lachesis glanced at him sidelong again. "You have a special interest, Chronos?"
"I owe -- Clotho," he said.
Lachesis nodded, knowingly. "It is a tangled skein we work from," she said. "A tangled tapestry we weave. Thank you for informing me, Chronos."
Chronos nodded and stood, and Lachesis stood, and they kissed briefly. This startled Niobe, but she was too
68 With a Tangled Skein
distracted by the frustration of her own situation to pon -- der theirs. Chronos took her elbow again, lifted his Hourglass,
tilted it -- and they were moving again, in their immaterial
fashion. They came to a mighty stone fortress, with armored
turrets and embrasures and battlements and massive walls. It stood on a mountaintop in Purgatory and looked impregnable -- but Chronos landed lightly before its main
gate. "Ho, Mars!" he called. A tiny window opened. "He's at work," a helmeted
head said. "Down in France, you know."
"Oh, yes, the war," Chronos agreed. He tilted his Hourglass again, and they slanted down through the ground and the cloud and the air beneath. Looking down, Niobe saw lands and waters passing by at supernatural velocity; she felt dizzy, and had to close her eyes. Chronos might be a man, but he had astonishing power!
As did Thanatos, she reflected. That business with the scything of the flames, and that magnificent horse, and a body made of bones without flesh that nevertheless had voice and strength. Lachesis, too -- that business with the threads, and the way she had changed momentarily to another woman -- no mortal talent, that! They were all phenomenal beings -- yet strangely helpless to aid her. She sensed that all three of them really wanted to help her, but were unable
- and could not tell her why.
They slowed as they approached the landscape of France. At last they landed at the edge of a great trench, part of a messy series of fortifications that seemed to ex -- tend endlessly. This was the frontline of the war, she knew -- the war that had drawn away most of the eligible young men and left her to marry a sixteen-year-old youth. She had cursed that war; now, perversely, she blessed it, for without it she would not have known Cedric.
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A man in Greek or Roman armor -- she was not enough of a military scholar to distinguish between them -- stood between the trenches. This was evidently Mars.
"Ah, Chronos," Mars said, waving his red sword in greeting. "What brings you here -- with such a lovely creature?"
"This is Niobe, a mortal. She came to see Thanatos, to plead for her husband's life, but the matter is complex and we are able neither to help her nor to explain it to her."
"Naturally not," Mars agreed as a shell detonated nearby. Shrapnel shot through the area, but none of them were hit. Niobe realized that there was a spell to protect them from such incidental mischief. Power, indeed! "Mortals are not equipped to understand."
"Of course I don't understand!" Niobe said hotly. "Fate pulled her string to seal my husband's doom, and Death will come to take him, and Time refuses to change it! I can't say I expect anything better from you!"
If she had thought to shame him into some favorable action, she failed. Mars merely smiled. "A woman after my own heart!" he said, pleased. "A fighter. All right, Chronos, I'm curious too. I obliterate thousands in a sin -- gle battle, and there is scant justice in their passing, and often great irony, and you other Incarnations tend to glance askance at my work. So why are you killing in seemingly arbitrary fashion now? That is not normally your way. I should think that if this woman had the cour -- age to brave Thanatos himself, she deserves some con -- sideration. Where is your chivalry?"
Suddenly Niobe liked this gruff man better.
Chronos touched his Hourglass -- and the world blinked. Now he and Mars were standing in different po -- sitions, and the sun shone from farther along in the sky.
"You did something!" she accused Chronos. "You changed time! Why?"
70 With a Tangled Skein
"I had to explain to Mars," he said. "I merely set you forward half an hour, while we talked."
"Why not explain to we?"
"Do not blame him," Mars told her. "He has reason, as has Lachesis. It turns out to be an unusual case."
"Then you won't tell me either. Mars?" she de -- manded. "You Incarnations must feel pretty big, teasing mortals -- " She was overtaken by tears of frustration, a sudden torrent.
"She does that," Chronos murmured, embarrassed.
"Oh, come on, woman," Mars said. "I have delivered similar tears to tens of thousands of women, though none as pretty as you. What are you made of?"
A blind fury took her then. "And tens of thousands of similar griefs to you, you unfeeling ilk!" she cried. "I hope you choke on your own sword!"
Mars smiled. "Lovely!" Then he sighed. "I will try to clarify it for you, in a general manner. You see. God and Satan are at war, and there are countless skirmishes, oc -- casional major engagements, and some devious nexuses. We Incarnations favor God, who is the Incarnation of Good. At times it is necessary to make small sacri -- fices in the pursuit of eventual victory, and it seems that your husband is such a case. Therefore, in the larger pic -- ture -- "
"A small sacrifice? Cedric?" she demanded. "I love him!" She had said that many times, and would say it many more, if it could get him back.
"And he loves you," Mars agreed. "Indeed, he has proved it. And it may be that because of this sacrifice, our side will win the war. You should be proud."
Suddenly she remembered how Cedric had been before the shooting. Almost as if he had anticipated what was to come. "He -- knew?"
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"He knew," Mars agreed. "He went voluntarily to that mission, and great glory accrues to him therefore. I salute him!" And he raised his red sword.
Cedric had known he was going to die! Stunned by this realization, she hardly knew what to do next. Then she stabilized. "Then I will take his place!" she said.
"You cannot," Mars and Chronos said together.
"Can't I? What do you care? One way or another I will save my husband, despite all of you!"
Mars shook his head. "You had better take her to Ge," he told Chronos. "She will know what to do."
Chronos took her elbow. Niobe jerked it away, but he caught it on the second try. Then they were flying again, leaving the trenches of France below.
"I think you're all a bunch of -- " she started, but couldn't think of a suitable conclusion. These Incarna -- tions seemed to be in a conspiracy of silence! Yet she remained shaken by what she had learned about Cedric, confirmed by her memory. He had known, or suspected. But why should he have gone, then? It didn't make sense!
They came to a dense copse of small trees. They passed through it in immaterial fashion and came to rest in a pleasant interior glade.
An ample woman sat on a chair shaped like a toadstool. No, it was a toadstool, huge and sturdy. There were flow -- ers in the woman's hair and they too were alive, their little leaves and roots showing. The woman's dress was green, formed of overlapping leaves, and her shoes were formed of earth that somehow flexed with her feet without crumbling. This was surely the Incarnation of Nature!
"So you bring her at last to me, you nefarious time -- traveler," Nature said to Chronos. "Begone, you callous male; I will do what you could not."
"As you wish, Gaea," Chronos said, seeming relieved. He tilted his Hourglass and disappeared.
72 With a Tangled Skein Piers Anthony 73
"You -- you knew I was coming here?" Niobe asked.
"Mortal woman, you have generated quite a stir in Pur -- gatory," Gaea said. "I suspected those men would muff it."
"But Fate -- Lachesis -- "
"Lachesis knows -- but cannot tell. And I will not tell either; trust the Green Mother to have some discretion! In time you will understand. But I will explain to you what you need to know at this time, and with that you will have to be satisfied."
"Gaea, 1 want to take my husband's place!" Niobe ex -- claimed. "Let him survive, healthy, so he can have his career, and 1 will die!"
The Green Mother gazed at her with understanding. "Yes, of course you feel that way, Niobe. You are a woman in love. But that cannot be."
"It must be! I would do anything to save him!"
Gaea shook her head. "Niobe, you cannot -- because he has already sacrificed himself for you."
"He -- what?"
"You were the one Satan slated for early demise, Niobe. Your husband asked the Professor about your bad visions, and the Prof, who is a pretty fair magician, in -- vestigated. He was grooming the young man to assume a chair at the college and wanted to be sure the background was stable. He discovered the plot and informed your husband. Cedric never hesitated; he went in your place."
Again, Niobe was stunned. She remembered her vi -- sions of dread. "He went -- for me?"
"It seems that you are destined to be a real thorn in Satan's side. None of us can know the details, of course, not even Satan, but he moved to eliminate you. Satan has terrible power, and he is subtle and methodical; we other Incarnations did not realize. Almost before we knew, it was done. The envoy of Hell was loosed -- but Cedric took the shot intended for you."
"How -- ?"
"The assassin was a hunter possessed temporarily by a demon spirit. The demon's orders were to shoot the mortal who was singing at a particular oak tree, with a baby. Satan presumed that would be you. That was the loophole."
"It would have been!" Niobe agreed faintly. "If Cedric had not -- "
"He loved you," Gaea agreed. "And he knew that Satan wanted you dead. So he saved you and balked Satan at one stroke. Seldom has a nobler deed been done."
"But if I -- "
"You cannot make a mockery of your husband's gallant sacrifice," Gaea said. "You must accept the gift he gave you, and do what he has enabled you to do."
"I -- but I don't know what -- "
"That is what we may not tell you, though it is little enough we know ourselves. But it is enough for you to know, now, that Satan himself regards you as a dangerous enemy, and surely he is correct. Live -- and you will dis -- cover your destiny in due course."
Niobe realized that her quest had come to nothing. Ced -- ric had already done for her what she had thought to do for him. She had no choice, now, but to accept.
She stumbled out of the glade, through the thickly grow -- ing saplings, and emerged -- beside the water oak near her home. The hamadryad recognized her and waved.
"Oh, Cedric!" Niobe exclaimed. "/ was the deer to be shot -- and how great was your love for me! Now I must let you die!"
Then she lifted her tear-streaked face to the sky. "But I will avenge you, Cedric!" she swore. "Somehow I will make Satan pay!"
She sank down beside the tree, and cried against its trunk, while the dryad wrung her hands. 0 Cedric!

4
CLOTHO
The following days were unpleasant, despite the grief -- abatement spells she was using.

They merely dulled the cutting edge of her sorrow, but did not -- could not -- should not! -- provide happiness in its stead. They enabled her to function in a superficially normal manner, but below, in a cavernous depth of despair, the agony re -- mained. There was only so much that magic could do.

Niobe went to the Prof and asked why he had not told her what Cedric had done. "Because he forbade me," the man replied sadly. "I hoped -- by interceding with Death,
you might -- but -- "
"The murder was willed by Satan," she said. "It was
too late. One of us was doomed."
"He insisted that you be saved," the Prof said. "1, selfish as 1 am, wanted him for the college. He had so much potential! But he -- and evidently Satan! -- believed that you were more important, and I could not refute that
case."
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"He was the one with all the promise," she agreed. "Cedric was worth two of me. I have no idea what I can do to justify my survival. But for his sake I will carry on, raise our son, and seek my retribution against Satan. If the Prince of Evil suspected that I would cause him trou -- ble, he has surely guaranteed that I will do so now!" But once more she was overtaken by tears. She felt so des -- olate! Her marriage to Cedric had been, to a large extent, promise -- the promise of his maturity. The promise of the life they would have together as two adults. They had just begun to taste that joy -- and now it was gone.
She went to the hospital in the city, where the doctor still labored to hold life in Cedric. "Let him go," she said. "I love him. I will not let him suffer longer." And she kissed her husband's unresponsive lips, and wet his face with her tears, and turned away. "May you have joy in Heaven, my bonnie boy," she whispered. "May I join you there -- when my business here is done."
She went to Cousin Pacian's parents' farm, where Jun -- ior had been boarded for several days. Junior saw her -- and burst into tears. She picked him up, in tears again herself, and held him close.
"But he was doing so well!" Pacian protested. "He was having a good time here, honest!"
"Of course he was," Niobe agreed. "It's just that once he saw me, he realized how he missed me. It's a natural reaction." But what, she wondered bleakly, would be his reaction to the permanent loss of his father?
Indeed, once reassured. Junior returned to his play with Pace, and it was obvious that the two liked each other, the baby and the boy, though about twelve years sepa -- rated them. It was more than kinship. "You are a truly wonderful family," she told them as she departed with Junior. "1 can never thank you enough."
76 With a Tangled Skein
"Bring him back to visit soon," Pace said, hiding a tear of his own.
Niobe nullified the anti-lac spell and nursed Junior -- but he quickly turned colicky and screamed in pain, and she realized that her grief for Cedric was in her blood and in her milk, poisoning her baby. She had to restore the spell and prepare a formula and return him to the bottle. She felt guilty doing it and less a mother, but perhaps it was for the best. Certainly she had no right to inflict her pain on him.
And I -- will cry -- she sang to herself. /'// cry when the wetlands are dry. It had new meaning now; it was as if her own drying-up was an echo of the suffering of the forest wetlands when man interfered.
She attended Cedric's wake, and Niobe smiled duti -- fully, but she had no taste for festivity. The ghost did hover near the corpse, reluctant to depart before the bur -- ial, despite the burning candle and ritual eating of bread. No one could make it depart until Niobe herself faced it and tearfully demanded an accounting. Then the ghost floated to her, touched her wet cheeks, shook its head, kissed her with the touch of gossamer but also of music, and faded away. It seemed to be a message of reassur -- ance, ironic in this circumstance.
Now it was over, and her life loomed bleak before her. Come live with me and be my love, she sang to herself, trying to remember the feeling of being with Cedric, but she could not. She knew, too well, that he was gone.
She set about fulfilling as much of Cedric's ambition as she could. She talked again with the Prof to see whether it was feasible to develop a spell to enable the deer to shoot back, but he said that such magic was beyond his ability. "The magician who accomplishes that will be a master," he said.
Cedric's death did accomplish something useful: the suspicion that the developer had done the deed turned out
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to be unfounded, but local sentiment was now so solidly against the project that all such plans were canceled. Per -- haps Cedric had known that this would be a side effect of his sacrifice.
There was a death settlement on Cedric which left her economically comfortable for the time being, but she also returned to her weaving, producing fine tapestries for sale. She kept herself'busy -- but though she had lived mostly alone for two years while Cedric was in college, this wasn't the same. That had been temporary; this was permanent. Now she knew he wasn't coming home, and that hurt constantly. It was a tunnel with no light at the end.
Increasingly she thought about her trip to Purgatory. She had met five Incarnations -- entities she had hardly believed in before. She had seen some of their powers and realized that there had to be more that she had not seen. They had pleaded inability to do what she asked -- but they had enormous abilities nevertheless. What did they do when they weren't talking with visiting mortals?
She had no life here on Earth, really. Even Junior would be better off with his cousin's family; she knew that. He was her baby; she loved him. But she had no illusions about the longterm life she could provide for him, alone.
She went to the water oak, set Junior down to play with the hamadryad, and explored the region near it where she had emerged from Gaea's home. As she had expected, it was now merely brush. The magic was from the other end. She could not get to Purgatory this way.
Neither could she use the route she had used before. When she had had a living love to salvage, she had been able to face the prospect of incineration in a burning boat -- but she had no love to salvage now. She needed to find another way.
But what did she have in mind to do there, once she got to Purgatory? Ride Death's pale horse? Zoom about
78 With a Tangled Skein
the cosmos behind Chronos' traveling Hourglass? The fact was, Cedric was not in Purgatory, either; it would be just as lonely there as here on Earth.
She glanced at her baby, now asleep, lulled by the dryad's soundless lullaby. Of course she wasn't entirely lonely; she did have Junior. He was of Cedric's blood, and that was an enormous comfort. But -- he was only a baby.
Increasingly, as the days passed, another emotion rose in her -- her need to be avenged on the true perpetrator of this outrage: Satan. She wanted to find some specific way to implement her vow. The Incarnation of Evil had sought to kill her, and instead had destroyed her happi -- ness. She knew that if she had been the one to die, Ced -- ric's fists would have sought the hide of the one respon -- sible, though Hell barred the way. Instead he had chosen to save her. Could she do less for her husband than he would have done for her?
But how could she do it? She was only a mortal woman, caring for her baby, while Satan was the ultimate bastion of evil. She had no way to reach him, and no way to prevail if she could reach him. It was ludicrous to believe she could punish Satan -- yet that was her vow and her need. Mars would have understood!
She continued to ponder, for this need was restoring some purpose to her existence. Obviously Satan was nei -- ther all-knowing nor all-powerful, for he had muffed the job on her. Also, she must have some power he feared, for otherwise he would not have tried to snuff her out.
What could Satan have feared about her? Surely he did not try to kill a person without reason. He had to be a very busy entity, seeing to all the wrongdoing in the world, constantly waging his war against God and the other Incarnations. She had not thought of interfering in Satan's designs before and was hardly a threat to him. She was not smart like Cedric or magical like the Prof;
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she had no great muscles, only her beauty and skill with tapestries. Yet he had sought her demise -- now she knew her visions had been the first suggestion of that evil -- and the other Incarnations seemed to agree that Satan had reason.
So she did have some power -- if only she could ascer -- tain what it was. Power enough to make Satan notice! What could it be? And why should the Incarnations refuse to tell her of it? She knew they were not in league with the Prince of Evil! It seemed to make no sense.
And Cedric -- why had he not simply saved her from death? Surely he had not been required to go in her stead! He could have told her of the plot against her, and they could have gone far away until the danger was past. Ced -- ric had had free will and had loved life; it just didn't make sense for him to seek death.
But it had to make sense! Cedric had been an extraor -- dinarily intelligent young man, with a clear notion of his destiny. He had talked with the Prof and, instead of telling her, he had sworn the Prof to secrecy.
The Prof! He had to know why! But she knew he would not tell her. Why?
For days she mulled it over, debating with herself. She knew she was not nearly as smart as Cedric had been, but she was sure she could solve this riddle if she kept at it. It was like a code puzzle, with the letters of a sentence changed to other letters so that it seemed to be gibberish. But the underlying pattern remained, and bit by bit the letters could be corrected until the original sentence was restored. She had a number of hints, if only she could understand their application.
Bit by bit, she pieced it together. Satan feared her -- so she must be more than mortal. The Incarnations knew of her, and Chronos knew her personally; he had called her Clotho. She had almost forgotten that, but now in her deliberations it came back. Chronos had also seemed to
80 With a Tangled Skein
have a personal interest in her welfare; Lachesis had re -- marked on it, and certainly he had gone out of his way to help her. He had jumped her ahead half an hour so that he could explain things to Mars, who had then agreed. Yes, Chronos had known her -- but the others had not. How could that be? Didn't the Incarnations work to -- gether? Well, presumably each focused mostly on his-her speciality; Chronos might know people the others didn't. Yet Lachesis had acted as if it were more than that. She had shimmered and changed into a young, lovely form, then back, and Chronos had nodded. He had confirmed -
what?
Also, Lachesis had called Chronos "my backward friend." That had obviously not been an insult. What did it mean? Chronos was not backward, either physically or magically; his power had been as great as any. In fact, Gaea had called him a nefarious time-traveler.
But backward also meant to travel in reverse, as in a person walking backward. Yet Chronos was not fixed on the past; he seemed rather to know something of the fu -- ture. And then it came to her: Chronos, the Incarnation of
Time, could travel backward in time! He could know the future, having been there and back. In fact he could have come originally from the future!
He could have seen Niobe there first -- then recognized her here in the present. He had known her as Clotho. But who was Clotho? The name did have a certain familiarity.
She concentrated, focusing on it -- and placed it. The Incarnation of Fate had three aspects: Clotho, who spun the threads of life; Lachesis, who measured them; and
Atropos, who cut them.
Chronos had remembered her as an Aspect of Fate! She sat perfectly still, shocked at the implication. Her -- self -- Niobe -- as Fate? How was it possible? Yet it ex -- plained so much: the diffidence of the Incarnations and
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Satan's effort to eliminate her. As Pate she could indeed interfere with Satan! She wasn't sure how, but was sure she could. Those Incarnations had their special abilities!
Yet if that were so -- if it could be so -- why hadn't they told her? The question brought the answer: they hadn't known, except for Chronos -- and they didn't want Satan to know. It might be that if they had told her, that would have changed it so that it wouldn't come true. A paradox.
But Satan had known! Or had he? Could Satan see the future? He was the Incarnation of Evil, not of Time; his foresight had to be relatively limited. More likely he had some crude divination, some indication that she was going to cause trouble for him, or at least had the potential. So he had struck at her. And the Prof, reading the same di -- vination, or interpreting her visions -- which suddenly fell into place in this connection! -- had told Cedric, and Ced -- ric had done what he had done.
But, again -- why hadn't Cedric simply told her. so she could avoid it? Why had he died, then come to her as a ghost with his gesture of encouragement?
She wrestled that about and finally concluded that prob -- ably Satan's minion had been told to go out and kill and, if balked, would continue to try, again and again, until at last successful. Who could avoid a demon-spirit forever? Distance would not have balked it; it would have flown wherever they could have gone, taken over the body of someone there, and stalked them. That would have been a sustained horror, with only one ending. But once it com -- pleted its mission by making the kill, it was done and would be no more threat. Satan's minions did not survive beyond their missions. So Cedric had saved her by in -- terposing himself, by abating the demon's imperative -- with his life. Cedric had not told her, so that neither Satan nor the demon would know of the ruse. And so she would not scream and carry on and cry, forcing him to desist from his sacrifice. Now it was done, and it seemed that

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With a Tangled Skein
Satan was unable to attack her again. That one demon must have been all that the Prince of

Evil could spare. Or perhaps he simply hadn't checked and didn't realize that she hadn't died. It did seem to fit together. It did account for Cedric's action -- and that was a perverse
but considerable comfort to her. Cedric had acted to abate once and for all the threat to her so
that she could fulfill her destiny -- which was, apparently, to become an Aspect of Fate. But how was she to do that? Again, she knew what the answer had to be. She would do it;
Pate would do it -- when the time was right. When, perhaps, she needed the skill of a mistress of
weaving. Fate -- the ultimate worker of thread! The ultimate weaver of tapestries. All Niobe had to do was wait. She was probably safe as long as she did nothing to attract
Satan's attention to her. Of course the Incarnations weren't talking; the fewer who knew a secret,
the better it was kept.
But now she had some hope. She could not bring Cedric back, but she could tackle Satan.
When she became Fate.
But what about Junior? Surely she couldn't take him to Purgatory! She would have to give
him up.
If Cedric had lived, she realized, none of this would have been possible. Had he known
that, too?
Perhaps he had tried to tell her at the wake: that he wanted her to do this, to assume the
office, that this was part of his motive. 0 Cedric!
She could not turn it down, now.
She continued about her routine, her grief slowly eas -- ing. She took Junior daily to
play with the hamadryad, for he really looked forward to it and seemed to be learn -- ing
something, though she was uncertain what. She worked hard to complete her current tapestry, lest
it be forever unfinished if she were called suddenly away. She took Junior to visit Cousin Pace,
because now she knew that one day he would have to go there to stay. She did
not want to part with him, but knew this would be nec -- essary -- and that it had better
be done sooner rather than later, to make his emotional transition easier. She quietly put her
finances in order, arranging for a trust fund that would pay a stipend to his guardian, so that he
would be no financial burden on others.
Weeks went by. Almost, she began to doubt. Then a fat letter arrived. It was addressed to
her -- but inside was a ticket to a city on another continent, with another wom -- an's name on
it. One Daphne Morgan.
Niobe looked again at the envelope. It was definitely addressed to her. She looked for the
return address and found none. The postmark was indecipherable. Evidently the wrong ticket had
been inserted, but there was no way she could send this letter back.
Wrong ticket? Why should she receive a ticket at all?
Who was Daphne Morgan? Had she received something intended for Niobe? From whom? Why? This
seemed like total confusion.
Yet someone had prepared the envelope, and mailed it. It could not be a complete mistake. She thought about it. She nodded. "Of course!"
She bid farewell to the hamadryad, explaining that she would be going away for a while and
would not be able to bring Junior to the tree. The dryad didn't answer, but looked so sad that
Niobe felt terrible. But this was a thing she had to do. "Maybe the family who will be keeping him
-- maybe they will bring him here," she said. "I'll ask them to."
The dryad smiled, and Niobe felt better. She turned Junior over to Cedric's cousin's
family. She had taken a null-grief spell, but still it hurt. "Once be -- fore," she told them, "I
boarded my baby with you, un -- certain whether I would return. I am uncertain again. I

84 With a Tangled Skein
have arranged for regular money to cover his expenses -- '' She could not continue. "He is kin," Pacian's father said gravely as his wife took Junior. That said it all for

these good folk. The Kaf -- tans would do anything for kin and do it generously, with -- out asking any return. Niobe could tell by Junior's re -- action to them that he had had loving care here. Wise indeed had Niobe's parents been when they had her marry into such a family.

Niobe felt her tears starting again. She kissed her baby farewell and kissed the good man and good woman, too, and Cousin Pace, who seemed stunned. At age twelve, he had never been kissed by a truly beautiful woman be -- fore. "There is a tree, a water oak near our cabin," she said. "If -- well. Junior has befriended the hamadryad there, and -- "

"We will take him there," Pacian said eagerly, and the others nodded.
Then Niobe turned quickly away and returned to her carriage.
She rode directly to the train station, bought a ticket, waited for the train's arrival,

boarded, and settled into her seat. She was on her way. She sobbed silently into her hanky.

In due course she was at the port city of Dublin. She presented the ticket she had been sent, the one made out to Daphne Morgan, and it was honored without question. She was provided a first-class cabin, and her meals were covered. As Miss Morgan, she traveled in style. But what would happen when she arrived at Miss Morgan's des -- tination?

The ship got up steam and set sail. As it got out on the larger swells of the open sea, the captain invoked the proper spells and the wind manifested and filled the sails. Some of the passengers turned greenish as the continual sway got to them and lost their appetite, but Niobe had

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sensibly brought along a spell against motion sickness and had no trouble. There were men aboard, of several generations, who seemed to view her as approachable; she

declined po -- litely. "I am a recent widow," she explained -- and then had to retreat to her cabin as the tears welled up again. 0 Cedric!

Thus it was that, five days into the voyage, she had not made any genuine acquaintances. She spent much of her time alone, reading. She missed her loom and her baby and she tried not to think about Cedric, without success.

She looked up from her book to discover a spider de -- scending by its thread. It reached the floor, then shim -- mered and became a human woman. "Lachesis!" Niobe cried. "Niobe, do you understand what we ask of you?" Lachesis asked.
"To become -- part of you," she replied. "To be an Aspect of Fate. I am ready." "But we must be sure you understand completely, for this is no simple thing. We are three,

but we have only one body. If you join us, you will never be alone."
"I have lived too long alone!" Niobe exclaimed.
"Because we are three in one, there is no privacy or separate identity," Lachesis

continued. "No individual rights. Each must do what is needful for the whole, with -- out exception. If, for instance, it is needful to dally with a man -- "
"Oh. You mean -- my body might have to -- "
"To indulge with my man," Lachesis finished. "The most youthful Aspect generally bears the onus of such endeavors, because of the nature of men, just as the mid -- dle Aspect bears the onus of household chores, and the oldest performs grandmotherly functions."
This set Niobe back. She had never imagined having physical relations with any man other than Cedric and
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hesitated even to commence such imagination. "But what of the spinning of the threads of life?"
"That, too," Lachesis said. "But you will have no trou -- ble there. A woman is not a single-purpose creature, and most purposes you are already prepared for. Our use of the distaff is merely more sophisticated than what you have known before." And in her hand appeared a glowing distaff, the short staff on which thread or yarn was wrapped, "We have only to keep the skein orderly; it is the social aspect that can be difficult."
Difficult indeed. The idea of being with another man -- another woman's man -- appalled her. Yet she could see that it did have to be a consequence of joining with other women, when there were not enough bodies to go around.
"Suppose -- I decline?" "My dear, we do not force anyone to join us! It may
be different with a couple of the male Incarnations -- though of course there is no law about that, only custom -- but we women are more accommodating. If you elect to remain mortal, you will return to your prior life, and we will select another woman for the exchange. But I confess that we do like you, and not merely for your beauty; sel -- dom does a mortal person have the courage to approach
Thanatos as you did."
"I have no courage!" Niobe protested. "I had to do
it!"
"Oh? Why?"
"To save my husband, the man I love!"
"And for love you went literally into the fire. If that is
not courage, it remains a quality we deeply respect."
"And it was all for nothing!"
"Yes, it is an irony. We could not give you what you desired, then, and we offer you some of what you do not desire now. Yet there are compensations."
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Niobe knew she would burst into tears again if they remained longer on the subject of what she had desired;
she had to focus on new things. "Compensations?"
"Immortality -- as long as you choose. Power -- as much as you can manage. Purpose -- for you will spin the ultimate threads of man's existence. We are Fate."
Niobe thought about returning to her former life -- with -- out Cedric. Then she thought of immortality, power, and purpose -- and the opportunity to seek to settle her score with Satan. She would rather have had Cedric, but she really had no choice -- as Chronos had known. She was destined to accept this role. "How do I join?" "Take my hand," Lachesis said, extending it. Niobe took her hand. There was an odd sensation of flux. She felt simultaneous loss and gain. Then she saw that Lachesis had changed to the form of the young, pretty woman who had appeared momentarily in her Purgatory Abode.
Their hands separated. "Farewell, Daphne," Lachesis said. "And welcome, Niobe."
What? Niobe looked down at herself -- and discovered she looked like Lachesis.
Yes -- you are with us now, Lachesis said silently to her. Your body has gone to Daphne -- the former Clotho. Be silent; your day is coming, while hers is done.
Niobe was silent. She watched and listened and felt, while Daphne turned about, verifying her new separate -- ness, then faced them. "Farewell, old friends," Daphne said, and her own eyes were bright with tears. "And thank you, Niobe. You have given me back my life." She opened her arms, and Lachesis embraced her; this time there was no transfer of personality.
Tell her she is welcome, Niobe thought, feeling an al -- most overwhelming surge of nostalgia. Her body~ -- changed to that other form -- gone forever!

88 With a Tangled Skein
You tell her, Lachesis replied. Something shifted -- and Niobe was back in her own form.

Except that two other minds were with her.
She glanced in the cabin's mirror -- and there she was, as lovely as ever, standing beside
Daphne. Fate had as -- sumed her likeness!
"You are welcome. Daphne," Niobe said.
Then, suddenly, she was crying uncontrollably. Daphne opened her arms to her, and they
hugged each other, the tears streaming down both their faces.
At last they pulled apart, looked at each other, two comely young women, smiled -- and
burst into tears again. For pity's sake! the third mind in her body grumbled. That was, Niobe
realized, Atropos, the oldest Aspect.
Eventually Niobe and Daphne ran dry. "I can see you resemble me," Niobe said tearfully. "I
hope you have the very best of lives ahead of you."
"I surely do," Daphne replied. "Fate pulled a thread."
They had to laugh at that. Then Niobe turned the body back to Lachesis, who turned it into
the spider, and they climbed nimbly up the thread to the cabin ceiling, on through the ceiling,
and up out of the steamship and into the sky, suddenly cruising with great velocity along a cable
extending across the world. In a moment they slid into their web-home in Purgatory and resumed
human form.
"You will not need to learn the way things are by your -- self," Lachesis said. "We will
guide you when you need it -- and routine homelife is mostly my department any -- way. But you
will need to spin the threads."
First Lachesis introduced her to Atropos. The body assumed the form, and the old woman
went to stand be -- fore the mirror so that Niobe could see her clearly through their eyes.
Atropos was in her sixties physically, with iron-gray hair, deep wrinkles, and an overlarge nose;
she looked like anybody's grandmother. "I lived a routine life
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on a goat farm," she said. "I helped my husband milk the goats and I cooked and washed and
bore four chil -- dren -- one of them died of smallpox when he was eight -- but my two girls and
remaining son grew up and married and moved away. I felt put out when they made it on their own; I
had, I confess, enjoyed running their lives. So I concentrated on my husband and made him sell the
farm -- the market for goat's milk was declining as the big cow-dairies got established, though of
course their milk could not compare in quality to what we produced -- and invest the proceeds in a
furniture factory. But we had been deceived about its prospects; it went bankrupt, and we lost our
life savings. My husband took sick, got con -- sumption, got pneumonia, and died broken-hearted,
and I knew it was my fault; I should have left well enough alone. But meddling in other people's
lives was always my predilection, and when Fate came to me and asked whether I wanted a real
chance to meddle -- well, here I am! I've been at it fifteen years, and I'm satisfied. And, I
trust, I am not ending people's lives frivolously."
But doesn't Death -- Thanatos -- end people's lives? Niobe asked in thought. She couldn't
talk aloud when she didn't have the body.
"Thanatos sees to it that the souls of those who die go to their proper appointments --
Heaven, Hell, or Purga -- tory. He must judge the balance of good and evil in each soul, and tend
to the difficult cases personally. But / de -- termine when each life shall end; I cut the
threads."
You cut the thread ofCedric's life?
"I had to. He had arranged to take the place of the thread I was supposed to cut short, so
I had no choice. I do not have complete autonomy, especially when there are changes in the
existing tapestry. 1 do not act capri -- ciously. I must operate within parameters so that no
thread extends beyond its proper position, or ends too soon. Otherwise the tapestry would be
distorted."

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With a Jangled Skein
But why any thread? Niobe demanded. Why not let good folk live?
Atropos formed a weary smile. "Child, that is a com -- mon fallacy of mortals. They assume

that Death is the enemy and that everything would be all right if only they could live forever. It's just not true; the old must pass that the young may come into being. None of us would exist today if our elders had not made place for us. So each thread of life is given its appropriate term, some being longer than others, and each must end as it begins, according to the pattern of the tapestry. I simply tailor the individual threads for the good of the whole tapestry, facilitating the greatest good. It is not for any single thread to decide its own place in the tapestry! It would be disaster to live forever!"

What about the Incarnations? Niobe still felt guilty that she should have such a future reserved for her, while Ced -- ric, the one with the most promise, had been cut short.
"The Incarnations are immortal, but not forever," Atropos explained patiently. "We maintain our lives without aging, as long as we hold our offices -- but we do not hold them for all time. We have variable terms. Your predecessor, Daphne, served for twenty-six years, dou -- bling her mortal life -- until she spied a situation that was too tempting to resist. She found a good man -- there's much to be said for a good man! -- and he needed a good woman he would not otherwise obtain -- and she simply had to have him. So she has left the office. Now she will age normally, until I or my successor cuts her thread, and she will move on to the Afterlife. Similarly, the other In -- carnations change office, all in their own fashions. Than -- atos dies when he becomes careless and is slain by his successor; Chronos assumes office as an adult and lives backward until the hour of his birth or conception -- I have never quite been certain which
- "
Backward? This was confirmation of what she had sus -- pected. How can he associate with others?
"When you want to talk, here in the Abode, just take over the mouth," Atropos advised. "When we are in the company of others, we maintain separation of identities, but we can relax here at home. But to address your ques -- tion: Chronos controls time. He can reverse himself in order to converse with others, or he can reverse them to align with him, for brief periods. At any rate, immortality is not perfection, and we Incarnations do eventually be -- come bored or tired, and so we leave office. Only in mor -- tality can the true guts of existence be experienced. Theo -- retically one of us might continue forever, but it has never happened, except in the case of God and Satan, and I'm not entirely sure about Satan."
The old woman seemed to have the answers. Things did seem to make sense -- but still Niobe could not accept the necessity other husband's death. "Would it have hurt the Tapestry so much," she asked, discovering that she could indeed assume control of the mouth without the rest of the body, when Atropos permitted, "if Cedric had lived?"
Atropos shifted to Lachesis. "That is my department, Niobe," she said. "I measure the threads of life, which means I determine their approximate length and place -- ment. I don't actually weave the tapestry -- it is far too complex for any individual mind to compass -- but I set the threads according to the pattern and see that they are properly integrated. Mortals tend to blame Fate for their failings and fail to credit Fate for their successes, which is annoying, but actually my options are limited. The over -- all pattern is determined by the interactive compromise between God and Satan -- the macrocosmic balance be -- tween Good and Evil -- and we other Incarnations simply implement it to the best of our ability. Certainly there would have been no harm if your beloved man had lived;

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With a Tangled Skein
he was supposed to live. Then we were forced to substi -- tute your thread for his -- and

then to eliminate that too, for you are no longer listed among the mortals, though they are not aware of your departure. Let me show you."

Lachesis gestured, and the mirror clouded, then opened onto an awesome scene. It was a phenomenal pattern in glowing colors, a Tapestry as wide as the world, with threads in their myriads like stars in the nocturnal welkin, forming a pattern of such marvelous intricacy as to baffle the mind of the beholder. Niobe had never seen a tapestry as magnificent as this; she simply stared, entranced.

"Your thread, and Cedric's, are approximately here," Lachesis said, using the distaff to point to one section, which expanded obligingly to show a better definition. It was like descending to Earth from Purgatory, watching the continents expand until they lost their cohesion, only this was not land but the enormous and splendid Tapestry of human existence. The line of color that Lachesis in -- dicated became a mighty river of threads, and these con -- tinued to be magnified until at last the individual threads showed like cables, each in its separate region. "To this side is the future, and to this side the past," Lachesis continued. "The present is the precise center of the image; as you can see, it is moving."

Indeed, the cables seemed to be traveling toward the "Past" side, so that the center drifted steadily toward the future without actually moving. The Tapestry was like a river flowing by. Niobe had to blink and blink again to avoid being mesmerized -- but this was futile because at this moment Lachesis had the body and control of the eyes.

Lachesis indicated two cables in the near past. They converged from different parts of the Tapestry and linked, twining about each other. "Your marriage to Cedric," Lachesis said. The two continued on, separating a little to show when he went to college, and touching again when

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she visited him there. There was a sparkle at one point, and Niobe blushed in her mind when she realized that was their first lovemaking, a significant point in their rela -- tionship.
Then, after a bit, a new thread started, tied in to theirs: Junior's conception or birth. Then the
two major threads exchanged places, and Cedric's ended. There was his death -- in lieu of hers. Finally her thread separated from Junior's and faded out. It was not cut off; it just
became obscure. Her as -- sumption of the Aspect of Clotho. Its texture changed: Daphne. Niobe's mortal flesh had not left the world, only her spirit.
"So you see, the Tapestry now has one thread where there were two," Lachesis concluded.
"And that one dif -- fers. We have tied it in in such a way that no one who does not inspect this
region closely will realize that any change occurred. But the Tapestry as a whole is basically
unchanged, no cohesion lost."
"But Cedric -- "
"Incarnations do not make policy. We conjecture that Satan anticipated your assumption of
the Aspect and sought to prevent it. In that he failed -- but there generally is a cost when one
foils the Prince of Evil."
"Then Satan can force mortals out before their time?"
Lachesis sighed. "Niobe, our firmament is not perfect. God and Satan made a Covenant
ofold^that neither would interfere with the operations of mortal humanity. The idea is that each
soul is given its chance in life, to make of it what it will, and those who prove they deserve to
be in Heaven then go there, and those who deserve to be in Hell go there. All of mortal existence
is merely the prov -- ing ground for the classification of souls, which is one reason why eternal
mortal life cannot be permitted: it would clog the Tapestry and interfere with its function. But
there was one loophole."
94 With a Tangled Skein
Lachesis turned away from the mirror and went to the Abode's kitchen to fix a meal. Niobe
was half afraid that the larder of this spider's den would contain some huge, juicy fly for
consumption, but the food was normal. She realized that Fate, unlike some of the Incarnations, did
not have a household staff. As a woman -- or three women -- Fate preferred to do for herself.
Niobe ap -- proved.
"God, as the Incarnation of Good, naturally does what is right; He honors the Covenant,"
Lachesis continued as she worked. "Satan, being the Incarnation of Evil, nat -- urally does what
is wrong; he cheats. So Satan is con -- stantly interfering in the affairs of mortals, yanking the
threads about, generating no end of mischief. We other Incarnations, who are supposed to be
neutral, must thus oppose Satan, just to get our jobs done. So the answer to your question is:
Satan shouldn't take out mortals before their time, but he does. We try to prevent this -- but
your own case is an example of the problems we encounter. It is no easy thing to deal with
determined evil, as we all know to our cost. I am sorry; we would have saved you and your husband
if we could, but Satan has agents in the Purgatory Administration office, and he has absolutely no
scruples. Your husband's death is a miscarriage of what was supposed to be -- but it happened." And with that Niobe had to be grudgingly satisfied. It strengthened her resolve to make
Satan pay. Somehow.

vom

It took a few days for Niobe to get into the routine. She learned how to travel on threads she flung out magically at will so that she could slide quickly to any portion of the globe. These were travel-threads, not the same as the threads of life; they appeared when needed and vanished when done. She learned how to generate the ' 'Read Only" threads between her fingers for spot checks on individual lives, though she could obtain only a fraction of the defi -- nition that Lachesis could; it was a skill that went with the Aspect and experience. She learned how to change into spider form for special occasions. As Fate, she had an affinity for the web weavers, and no spider would pro -- test her presence in its web or her intrusion onto its hunt -- ing ground. In fact, spiderwebs were convenient landing places when she traveled; she could slip to one much faster as an arachnid, then change to human form for whatever task required her attention,

She gained confidence: she might appear to be a weak woman, but an invisible net of web surrounded her, mak -
95
96 With a Tangled Skein 97
Piers Anthony
ing her invulnerable to any mortal attack. She learned where the Purgatory Administration Building was, and who the key personnel were. These were not Incarna -- tions, but lost souls -- people whose balance between good and evil was so exactly even that they could not be relegated to either supernatural realm. They seemed like ordinary folk, which of course they were, and quite solid, which they were not. They were really ghosts, able to act only here in Purgatory. And she learned to spin souls.
But first she had to fetch the raw stuff of souls, and that was no easy task. "It's in the Void," Lachesis ex -- plained.
"The Void?"
"In the beginning, the earth was without form and void. God created the world from the stuff of the Void, and reality as we know it came into being. But not all of the Void was used. What remains of it occurs at the edge of Purgatory, and no one can go there except you."
"Me?"
"As Clotho. Not even we two other Aspects of Fate can go there; we become tuned out. This is the one jour -- ney you must make alone."
"But I'm so new here! I know so little about any of this! I can't -- "
"There is no one else," Lachesis said. "Do not be un -- duly concerned; it is not a dangerous trip. It is merely a unique one."
She had to do it; it was a duty of the office. But she dreaded it. Her nightmare visions of what was to happen at the water oak had proved to be well-founded; now she hesitated to go into any truly challenging situation alone.
Lachesis took her to the edge of Purgatory. It looked quite normal and it was -- but it was the boundary beyond which it was unsafe for any other person to go.
"And you and Atropos won't be with me, even in my mind?" Niobe asked uncertainly. She had found she liked their company; it abated the grief in her memory.
We will be with you -- but unconscious, Lachesis replied in thought, for they were no longer at the Abode. It would have seemed strange if any other person overheard her talking to herself. Our minds cannot face the Void. But we know yours can, for Daphne went many times. She told us it became easier each time.
"The first, the worst," Niobe agreed wanly. "And I must seek the heart of it?"
Yes. Only there is the essence pure. Don't forget to play out the skein.
So she could find her way back. This time a temporary, vanishing travel-thread would not do; she had to be guided by the Thread of Life itself. She certainly would not ignore that detail!
She walked on along the road. If no one could go be -- yond this point, for whom was the road?
Some do go beyond, Lachesis replied, more faintly. Tolerances differ. But you must go where no other goes.
"Oh? Who else uses this road?"
Some of the other Incarnations. Now Niobe had to strain to pick up the fading thought. Mars, Gaea...It was gone.
Niobe walked on, and the road dwindled into a footpath through a dense forest. Evidently the vegetable kingdom did not feel limited! "The Incarnation of War," she mur -- mured. "And of Nature. I wonder what business they have here?" But there was of course no answer. She was on her own.
The forest darkened and the path narrowed until it was a vague ribbon through the gloom. The trees became op -- pressively large and close, as if seeking to encroach on the path and squeeze whatever was on it. She did not
98 With a Tangled Skein
recognize their types; they were simply walls of rough bark, extending up until the branching foliage closed over -- head, sealing off the light. But her eyes adjusted, and she could still see. It was mostly her apprehension that was affected.
Nervously, she looked back. Her thread glowed be -- hind, marking the way she had come. She was surprised to see that it soon curved out of sight; she had thought she was going straight. But it was a comfort to know she could not get lost, and she continued to hold the distaff so as to let the thread unwind. It was a thin thread, and she worried about its breaking. But she reminded herself that no one except Atropos could sever the Thread of Life and that there was no one else out here to interfere with it anyway.
The path ended ahead. She stopped, dismayed, then realized that, though a sullen tree blocked the way, it was possible to go around it. She squeezed on by -- and found another tree blocking her off. It was just as if they were stepping in front of her, like aggressive men. A false impression, surely! She squeezed around that one, too. Because the trees took up more volume of space above, they could not stand trunk-to-trunk at ground level.
They tried, however. Their roots spread out of the ground and interlocked, and their lower branches reached down. But there was always a way through, however tor -- tuous. The trees might try to balk Fate, but could not succeed. Probably this path was so devious because it fitted through the avenue of least resistance, no straighter or broader than it had to be.
Then the trees seemed to lose cohesion. They became misshapen, with trunks either swollen or shrunken, and their foliage -
She paused to blink and stare. The foliage was wrong! It was no longer green, but purple, and the individual
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leaves were formed into the shapes of stars or squares or triangles. How could that be?
Obviously it could be, because it was. She moved on. The forest retreated from the path, the trees becoming stranger yet. Now they were multicolored blobs of wood and brush, and some were floating. Apparently the laws of reality were weakening.
The path led her to a slope, and the slope became steep. She walked along the contour, and on her left a mountain stretched until the peak was lost in the brightness of the sun, and on her right the slope continued down into a valley so deep as to give her vertigo. As she proceeded, the slope increased until it was almost vertical -- but her feet held the path, which was a level niche cut into the slope. Then the slope above actually passed the vertical, and overhung the path, while that below became under -- cut, so that the path was no more than a ledge cut into a horrendously leaning cliff. One misstep would send her hurtling down!
Niobe had never been timid about heights or depths, but this daunted her. Still, she saw no reasonable alter -- native other than to continue on. It was, after all, sup -- posed to be safe, and Lachesis and Atropos, her better two-thirds, would not have sent her to her doom. Their own identities were in similar peril.
But what did they really know? Apparently Daphne had never told them exactly what she had faced here. Maybe it wasn't possible to convey the full effect -- or maybe the attempt would cause needless alarm. After all, the soul substance had to be gathered, and this was where it was, so there was no choice.
She walked on. The slope became more extreme, until the upper wall curved down over the path and the lower wall seemed -to curve up under it; she was walking in a notch or groove cut in the roof of a cave. There was no floor, just cloudy vagueness.
100 With a Tangled Skein
Then the upper wall curved down until it was below the path, and the lower seemed to curve above. She was walking in the eye of a pinwheel! Who could believe ge -- ography like this?
At length she emerged from the strange configuration. Ahead was a river -- no, it was the path, but -
She stopped and looked back. Behind her was the ver -- tical pinwheel, its walls spiraling outward from the center, which was her path, and expanding in ever-greater sweeps, until she was unable to trace them with her eye. To the sides was open space, with a few faint stars wink -- ing. Before her was -- well, it started like a path, but con -- tinued like a stream. She kept trying to focus on it, but kept not succeeding.
One way to find out. She resumed her walk -- and the path softened. Soon she was sloughing through muck. So she removed her yellow cloak -- there was no mandatory color-coding, but it seemed that Clotho traditionally wore yellow, Lachesis brown, and Atropos gray -- and laid it on the path. Then she stepped into it, trying to bring as little mud along as possible. There was no problem; the mud did not adhere to her shoes at all. It was like soft plastic, slimy and flexible but cohesive, sticking only to itself.
She settled down cross-legged, feeling exposed in her under-clothing, though there really wasn't anyone to see. She set the distaff in her lap, stretched her hands out to either side, and set her fingers in the stuff. She pushed off -- and the cloak moved slightly forward. She pushed again, and it slid farther forward. After several pushes, the cloak was sliding along well enough.
Then the current caught it, and she was floating on down the stream. Her cloak formed into a saucer-shape;
it made a decent if somewhat clumsy boat. She wasn't sure why it didn't collapse in on her, but she wasn't sure about much else in this region, either. She took hold of
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her distaff before it could spin out of her lap, and played out the lifeline of thread.
The stream carried her by a floating tree, which now seemed more like an island, and on through the starry sky. Perhaps it was a reflection in the water -- except that the only water was the stream that the path had become.
Then the islands became big puffs of nondescript mat -- ter, which fell apart into lesser blobs that in turn sundered, until she was in a great cloud of pebbles, and then motes, and then smoke. The smoke dissolved, and she found her -- self drifting in nothingness.
She glanced at her distaff, and discovered that her thread had almost run out. But the stream had not yet run its course; it was carrying her somewhere, which meant that she had not yet gotten where she was going. She couldn't stop now, but if she didn't, she would leave her thread behind, and she was pretty certain that would not be expedient. She had to have more thread!
She considered a moment, then dipped her hand over the side and scooped up a handful of substance. It was like thin jelly or thick water. She stretched it between her hands, and it thinned into a taffylike strand. Could she fashion a thread of this? Why not; it was part of the stuff of the Void. It might not be pure, but it might do for this temporary purpose.
It was awkward doing it barehanded; she really needed a spinning wheel. Most yarn or thread was spun into fi -- bers, ranging from the half-inch long cotton to the infi -- nitely long silk; each type required its own special tech -- nique. The object was to render the fibers into a continuous thread that could then be worked into what -- ever fabric was required. The essential process in this conversion was spinning -- which, very simply, was the winding of fibers together so that they became the thread. It could be done by hand, and she knew how to do it. She was, after all, a woman.

102 With a Tangled Skein

She had her distaff and spindle, but nothing to card or comb out the fibers. But this stuff of the Void didn't seem to be fiber; it was more akin to taffy. Presumably she could stretch it out into whatever diameter and length she wanted, and fix it in that form by spinning.

She experimented. She stretched some out between her hands, then used the distaff to take up a crude skein. When she had what she wanted, she used the spindle to twist the line, and she wound it fairly tightly on the spin -- dle. The trick was to stretch and twist and coil in just the right manner to produce an even, strong, and fine thread. This stuff was unlike any she had worked before, but Niobe had excellent coordination and experience. If any -- one could do it, she could.

Indeed she could. Her body looked and felt exactly like the mortal one she had left behind, but she was Clotho now, and had magic. Under her will and guidance the stuff of the void spun into crude thread, and this she spun onto the end of the thread she had brought with her, extending it. Now she could safely continue.

At last the cloak drifted to a halt. At least, so she judged; she had no external reference points, but she no longer had to play out the thread. This, evidently, was the heart of the Void, where she had to collect her month's supply of soul substance.

She had no container, so she used her skill again. She took a handful of the stuff she floated in, and processed it in the way she had the river. This was almost intangible, so she seemed to be going through the motions, spinning in a vacuum. But she felt a slight resistance and had faith she was succeeding. Soon she had some crude substance on her distaff: her skein of soul. She didn't know how much she needed, but knew she could come back for more when she ran out. This had not been as bad as it might have been.
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Now she had to get back. She had drifted to this region, as it was the natural direction;

things always drifted to -- ward entropy. Now she had to go against the current -- and how was she to do that?

First she tried the obvious -- and it worked. She hauled on her lifeline thread. She and her makeshift boat moved readily forward as she hauled; she seemed to have no inertia, no resistance. And she realized now that in the Void inertia was as baseless as matter; the rules of matter were unformed, here. Her thread was now her only con -- nection to the material frame -- if it was fair to call Pur -- gatory that -- so she was actually hauling herself in to her anchor. She hadn't needed the thread for finding her way, but for making her way.

The floating blobs reappeared, and the river became more evident; it was a runofffrom organized matter, flow -- ing from the organized to the disorganized. She had had to get beyond it, because the river was polluted by some aspects of organization. For new souls, the substance had to be as pure as she could make it; Lachesis had stressed that.

She reached the mucky portion of the stream, and fi -- nally had to get out and slough to the solid path. She was reentering contemporary reality.
"Hi, babe."
Niobe jumped. Someone was there, standing in the path, where no person could be!
"I see you are surprised, sweets," the figure said. He was hazy in outline, but seemed familiar.
"No one -- can be here," she faltered. "Except Mars, or Gaea, or -- "
"Or Satan," the figure concluded. "Where God can go, so can His Nemesis."
Her whole body stiffened. This was the Prince of Evil -- the one who had arranged for her death! The one she
104 With a Tangled Skein
intended to punish -- somehow. "I hate you!" she ex -- claimed.
The figure laughed. "Of course, you phenomenally lovely creature! I am the Incarnation of all Evil, and hate is far from the least of evils! Did you realize they have issued a postage stamp in My name? It says HATE -- HATE-HATE-HATE-HATE! Already you are coming into My bailiwick!"
This gave her pause. It was true; when she indulged herself in hate, she drew closer to Satan, even though it was Satan she hated. A treacherous situation indeed! She really couldn't afford to hate him.
She realized ruefully that Satan had scored against her at the outset. It was his advantage. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to clarify certain matters, sugar, as we shall doubtless be interacting henceforth."
She couldn't help herself. "Why don't you clarify why you killed my husband!"
"That is precisely why I have come here, luscious plum," Satan said. "It is known to Me that you have some misunderstanding about that matter, and it is not meet for confusion to exist between Incarnations."
"I have no misunderstanding! You interfered in my life!"
"Not so, sweet rose! I specialize in evil; I understand its workings better than any other entity does. Evil is everywhere, to greater or lesser degree, except perhaps in God, who is, frankly, naive in this matter. Let me show you the evil that is in the other Incarnations."
Niobe hurried along the path, poking her distaff forward to move Satan out of the way, but he floated back without moving his legs. He was simply fixed in place in relation to her, like a mirage. She could not escape his attention. "I -- won't listen to this!" she exclaimed. "The other In -- carnations aren't evil!"
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"Evil is as evil does, love," Satan said. "From your contaminated thread on, evil lurks in every mortal crea -- ture, and it is not necessarily expunged by Incarnation."
"Contaminated thread!" Niobe exclaimed. "I just fetched it from the purest essence of the Void!"
"Purity does not exist in the Void, delicious thing," Satan said. "Only chaos. What you have is virtually pure entropy -- that is, complete disorder. When you spin it, you are imposing order -- your brand of order -- on the purest chaos you can obtain. That is because you want to define its order completely, with no contamination by order from any other source. But because chaos is com -- plete, it excludes nothing, not even a smidgeon of order. You are necessarily working with imperfect substance, 0 heart's desire; in fact it is that contamination of order that enables you to spin it. Without that, you would not be able to get a grip on it. But that is only part of it. That substance is a mixture of good, neutral, and evil, and it is impossible to tell which will prevail in the end. There -- fore we run it through the ultimate test for its bias: ani
-- mated free will."
Niobe was trying not to listen, but not succeeding. The voice of Evil was insidiously compelling. "I'm making this thread for life!"
"Exactly, darling. Animated free will -- otherwise known as life. By the time each modicum of this soul substance runs its course, the nature of its individual bal -- ance between good and evil is known, and final order can be achieved. Eventually the last of the Void will have been processed, and the entropy of the universe will have been reduced to zero. All good will be in Heaven, and all evil in Hell. The job will done, and the system will be shut down."
Niobe was appalled. "All -- life -- just a -- a laboratory to classify the substance of the Void?"
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"Indeed. Beautiful, isn't it? Just like you, cutie. On that day of final reckoning we shall at last know which is dom -- inant: God or Satan. The score will tell."
"Then what am 1 doing here?" she demanded, feeling dizzy.
"You are initiating the sequence, honey," Satan said. "You are taking another spoonful of chaos out of the Void. It is a good and necessary task. But evil is in your thread of life; were it not so, we would not need life at all."
"Well, the Incarnations aren't evil!" she said stoutly. "You said yourself that this task I'm doing is good."
"The task is good, to be sure, doll. But the Incarnations are human -- which is to say, imperfect. They have human ambitions, weaknesses, and lusts."
"Lusts!" she exclaimed indignantly. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm so glad you asked, precious." They were passing through the pinwheel now, the Incarnation of Evil still drifting before her like a specter, unavoidable. He was becoming clearer, and more eerily familiar. "Indeed the Incarnations do have lusts! They indulge them on occa -- sion with mortals, but this is problematical. You see, rav -- ishing one, the Incarnations do not age, physically -- but mortals do. It is difficult for an Incarnation to maintain a relationship with one who constantly ages, particularly a romantic connection. So it is better to do it with another of his kind."
It had not occurred to Niobe that that sort of thing ex -- isted in Purgatory. Still, Lachesis had mentioned the pos -- sible use of the body; perhaps that was not merely an extreme occasion. She herself retained her grief for Ced -- ric and her anger at Satan for his connivance in that. She knew from her personal experience already that much of what Satan told her was true: Incarnations did retain human passions.
"Unfortunately, scrumptious," Satan continued re -- lentlessly, "there are relatively few Incarnations, and most are male."
"Chronos, Thanatos, and Mars," Niobe said shortly. "And you."
"Those are the major ones. Some would consider God to be male too, though that really doesn't matter. God is indifferent to mortal passions other than power."
"The major Incarnations? There are others?" She was still trying to ignore him, but he kept intriguing her cur -- iosity.
"Didn't you know, sweet-buns? There's Hypnos, who is in charge of sleep, and Eros, in charge of -- "
"Never mind. What's your point?"
"My point, fair creature, is that there is a severe scar -- city of Incarnate young flesh. Gaea can of course assume any form she wishes, and she can be a lusty wench indeed, but she lacks one quality that most males prize in a fe -- male."
He paused, as if inviting her query -- and Niobe was hooked. She had to ask. "What quality is that?"
"Innocence," he replied succinctly.
Niobe mulled that over. She could think of only one relatively innocent female in Purgatory: the newest one. Herself. "Surely you don't mean -- "
"Consider Chronos, beautiful," Satan said. "He lives backward. He remembers the future, and doesn't know the past. Association with a mortal woman is, if you will excuse the expression, hellish for him. They just don't understand."
"But he can change time to coincide -- "
"For short periods, cutie. Not for long-term. Which means that if he wishes to have a liaison once a week without a hassle, he must find a woman who understands his situation and is willing to accommodate him. That
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means another Incarnation. Gaea, or -- " Again he
paused, artfully.
"Are you implying that / -- ?" she demanded indig -- nantly. Again she remembered how solicitous Chronos had been, and how understanding the other Incarnations had been during her first visit. And how closemouthed. That gave her an abiding disquiet.
"Chronos surely remembers," Satan said. "What is to
be, has been, for him."
She was becoming outraged. "And you claim he -- I -- we -- that I'm here because Chronos wants -- "
"And the other Incamative males," Satan agreed. "Fate is known as an accommodating woman. But of course those males prefer her youngest and firmest As -- pect, as perhaps your better twothirds have already ex -- plained to you."
Niobe could not answer. She had been told. Now that notion was becoming much less theoretical.
"You see, honeypot," Satan continued inexorably, "we Incarnations have to get along with each other. We are too small a group, and our duties overlap; if we do not cooperate, the world will revert to chaos and all will be lost. We are not antagonists; we are the several As -- pects of the job. Fate cannot operate without Time -- so it behooves her to keep him satisfied, and she has one exceedingly potent mechanism therefor."
"I can't believe that!" she cried, beginning to believe. "You may verify it very simply, roundheels. Ask
Chronos. He remembers."
"No!" she said. "I love Cedric! I will never -- " But she had already agreed when she assumed the office. What had she thoughtlessly gotten herself into?
"Ah, yes, Cedric. Your sacrificial husband, the boy wonder. Allow me to clarify the story on that."
"No!" she said, turning her face away. But she con -- tinued to listen.
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"The Incarnations -- and not just Chronos -- wanted a new face and body and innocence in Purgatory," he said. "I mean, even the sexiest and most accommodating young woman -- and Daphne was certainly that! -- palls after a few years or decades, especially when her body doesn't change at all. Especially when her mind gets too knowing. She's a good one to visit -- don't I know! -- but not to stay with. The novelty is gone, and novelty is chronically in short supply in Purgatory. So when Clotho found a compatible situation among the mortals, she took it. She was bored out of her gourd, as the saying will one day go, and -- "
"How can you know what a future saying will be?"
"Chronos uses expressions he remembers from the fu -- ture, and some of them are apt. At any rate, trixie, the Incarnations did an informal survey of mortal flesh, and you were the prettiest innocence they found, and your ability with loom and distaff made it even better. The perfect unliberated, docile sex object! So they arranged to bring you in. That meant eliminating your man."
This was appalling. She had to deny it -- yet could not. Satan might be the personification of evil, but he was mak -- ing sense. Still, she tried to fight, weakly. "But it was me they -- you tried to kill, not Cedric."
"So they told you, cheesecake. But that was a ruse, to shift the blame to Me. After all, they could hardly have found a better surrogate for blame! So that you would agree to join. It does, in that limited sense, have to be voluntary; you have to think you want it. They have to remove the one you love, to leave you no further reason to remain mortal. They conveyed to your innocent bonnie boy that you were the target, thus very cleverly tricking him into doing exactly what they wanted -- "
"No!" Niobe cried like a drowning woman.
"And it worked perfectly, as you know, trophy-piece. Now the most desirable and innocent morsel of a young

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woman on Earth is in Purgatory and available for duty. The Incarnations are already champing at the nether bit. I could hardly have done it better Myself -- but of course such evil is Mine anyway, by definition. I suggest you relax and enjoy it, toots."

"Relax, hell!" she screamed.
Satan smiled. "Exactly."
She peered at him more closely. His image had been slowly clarifying as they progressed,

and now at the verge of the forest he was at last recognizable. He had assumed Cedric's form. "You utter cad!" she screamed, trying to push him into a tree. "You have no right to -- to
-- "
He caught her hand. "Shall I kiss you, sweetlips?" he asked in Cedric's voice. "I, too,
find you desirable, and I can make you forget -- "
She struck at him with the distaff she had been re -- winding. He ducked, and the thread
sprang out and settled about him in a tangle. "Get out! Get out!" she screamed.
Satan resumed his normal form, and sighed. "Another time, perhaps, when you have been
suitably broken in." He faded away, leaving her with the tangle.
Niobe stood and cried in rage and grief for some time. Damn Satan! He had changed her
promising new exis -- tence into a torment of savage emotion.
But after a while she reasserted such cynicism as she could muster. She detached the
tangled mass of threads, as they were from the borrowed section of the river, spun the ends
together, and resumed her walk. She was not a plaything of Fate; she had free will, and she could
leave this position if she wanted to. They had explained that each Incarnation, except perhaps
Chronos, had a trial pe -- riod in office, after which he or she was granted indefinite tenure if
suitable. She would simply declare herself to be
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unsuitable and return to mortality. Certainly she would not serve in the -- the capacity
they wanted!
She wended her way through the trees, her tears drying on her face. What a monstrous
conspiracy she had fallen into! To think that Cedric had died in order to make her available for -She was still furious as the forest retreated and thinned, and the path straightened and
became a road. She was back in structured reality, now -- and not one bit pleased. What's the matter, Clotho?
They were back! "You should know, you hypocrites!" she flared.
She was met by a thought of amazement. Why do you say that?
Niobe let loose a torrent of why.
Wait! Wait! We can't assimilate all that! We can feel your anger, but you will have to
vocalize to clarify the reason.
"Cedric!" Niobe shouted. "You conspired to kill Ced -- ric, so I would -- would -- " Her
tears started up again, and her emotion was a confusion of love, sorrow, and fury reminiscent of
the chaos of the Void she had just departed. Perhaps, she thought in an isolated flash of humor,
she had brought the Void with her -- in her head.
Cedric? We explained about him!
"Well, Satan explained it better! I'll not stay in this job! You had no right to -- " Satan! Lachesis' thought came.
That explains it! Atropos agreed.
"Yes, Satan!" Niobe agreed. "He really understands evil! He was there in the Void, and he
- "
And he told you an intricate lie, Lachesis continued.
And you believed him, Atropos concluded.
"Yes, I believe him!" Niobe cried. "And I want to go back to mortality! At least there my
body is my own!"
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You believed the Father of Lies, Atropos thought.
It is your right to return, Lachesis agreed. But first we must hash this out. You must
know the truth before you act, lest Satan lead you to tragedy.
"Why should he do that?"
He does not want you in the office. He knows that somehow you will cause him great
trouble. That is why he tried to kill you before you could become Clot ho.
Niobe suffered doubt. Satan had been persuasive -- but he was the Incarnation of Evil, and
certainly he would lie to suit his purposes. She should not believe him without establishing the
case thoroughly. "How can I verify this?"
Perhaps Chronos knows.
"Chronos!" Niobe exclaimed indignantly. "All he wants is -- "
That is a half-truth.
"You admit to half of it?" Niobe demanded.
Lachesis made a mental sigh. Satan has poisoned your mind. You must cleanse it yourself.
Go to Chronos, chal -- lenge him. We will be silent until you address us.
That, of course, was the answer. Chronos was at the heart of this. She would give him
ajagged fragment other mind!
She returned to the Abode, deposited her new batch of yarn -- she would reprocess that
into much finer thread later, as she spun out the lives of new mortals -- assuming she remained in
office that long -- and set off along the line that connected to Chronos' mansion. She was awk --
ward in her use of the travel-thread; it would have been faster and smoother if one of the other
Aspects had han -- dled it, but she needed to master the techniques herself in order to -To what? Be a good Clotho? When she had no intention of retaining the position? Unlikely
chance!
She made it to the mansion. She had learned that time reversed when a person entered
Chronos' residence, so that she would actually depart before she arrived. She found that aspect of
it intriguing. It existed so that others could converse comfortably with Chronos; otherwise each
would be talking backward at the other.
She knocked on the door, and was admitted immedi -- ately. Chronos met her, wearing a pure
white robe; he stepped right up, smiling, and took her in his arms and kissed her. Niobe was so surprised that she simply froze for a mo -- ment. Then she recovered, jerked
back her head, brought up her arm, and slapped him smartly across the cheek. "What kind of nerve
do you have, trying a thing like that?" she cried.
He turned her loose, a look of astonishment on his face. "Why, Clotho -- what happened?" "What happened?" she repeated furiously. "You just grabbed me and kissed me!" "But of course! As I have always done, here at home."
"Always done!" she screamed. "Then it's true!"
Now a look of realization spread across his counte -- nance. "The time -- are you just
beginning your cycle?"
"My what?"
"Have you just begun your office? As Clotho?"
"Of course I have, as you well know! And if you think
I -- "
"But I don't know!" he protested. "That's in my fu -- ture, and you have never said
exactly when -- "
Because he lived backward. Now she understood. "You -- you couldn't have conspired to --
because it hasn't happened yet, for you!"
"I would never conspire against you, Clotho," he said.
"I love you."
She felt as if a demonic hand had squeezed her heart. She reeled, and sank onto a couch.
It was true -- they were

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going to have an affair! This man she didn't know, and certainly didn't love! "Ah, Clotho," he said. "I didn't realize. You have not done this before. You don't --

remember. Had I real -- ized -- I'm sorry. I should have known. Long ago you told me the date of your origin. I had forgotten. I apologize for -- "
"What do you remember?" Niobe asked dully.
He took a seat opposite her. "When I assumed my of -- fice, thirty-five years hence in your view, I was bewil -- dered by everything. I did not know what to do, or how to do it -- even the Hourglass was a mystery to me. But you, in your three guises, came to me, and took me in hand, and set me straight. It was as if you had known me all along, though we had never before met. You did so much for me, and I was grateful, and then you -- "
He broke off, putting his face in his hands. "Oh, Clotho! It's over at last, and so abruptly! I owe you so much and I will miss you so much!"
Suddenly he reminded her ofCedric, as he had been at the outset of their marriage. So forlorn and lost and unable to come to grips with what he knew had to be. She, in her naivete and insensitivity, had only exacerbated his problem. How much she regretted that now!
And the magnitude of Satan's lie was manifest: Chronos had never, could never conspire. She had initiated their romance -- thirty-five years hence. And now she was blaming him!
If she had known, at the outset other marriage to Ced -- ric, what was to be, she would have been far more un -- derstanding and careful. Now she faced a roughly similar situation. She did not love this man -- but neither had she loved Cedric, at first. The lesson was there.
Did she really want to return to mortality? Cedric still would not be there. If she had to live without him, wouldn't it be better to do it with the power of the In -- carnation of Fate, rather than as a simple mortal? Chances were that this job would offer her many distractions. She could keep herself busy -- and she could leave whenever she chose to. She didn't have to make a decision yet. Yet -
Satan had tried to talk her into leaving. He wouldn't have bothered if she were not destined to cause him some grief.
Chronos remembered three and a half decades' asso -- ciation with her. That showed her decision and her future. What point to rail against it? Better to take herself in hand and do what had to be done. Cedric was dead; he would never live again. She had to face reality, and the sooner the better. This was her moment of commitment. She did not relish the prospect, but she had to put the past firmly behind her.
She dried her face, arranged her hair, and stood. Chronos sat with his face covered. He was not pretending;
he was a decent, vulnerable man, and he was mourning a relationship he knew was past. Indeed it was, for him. It was an emotion she understood.
She crossed over to him and put one hand on his shoul -- der. "Chronos, I understand. But this -- is the last time." He looked up. "The first -- for you." "For me. I do not -- love you, but -- " She shrugged. "I misjudged you, Chronos, and I'm sorry. I -- I give you this. There is only now, for us. Such as it is." "Such as it is," he agreed, lifting his hand to her. She took it. "When next we meet, it will be different. I will not remember -- this. Or know of it." "I will not speak of it." He drew her down to him. She tried to conceal her aversion to being handled by any man not Cedric. She felt guilty and unclean -- but, perversely, she was sure she was doing right. She was no longer married, no longer mortal, and she had a job to do here and a role to fill. It turned out that Chronos' long

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experience with her future self gave him a special touch, and it became easier to

cooperate.