eavesdropping on an often-revisited fight. He cleared his throat. “Ladies? Am I interrupting something?”
“I go.” The eldest spoke.
“Poo.”
“Hmph.”
The mist pulsed, an unseen wind separated it to reveal an old woman, supporting herself with a gnarled walking stick. She cocked her head to the side, staring at Robert. “Not at all, little mortal. We always talk like that, and it is no interruption.”
He nodded politely. “May I ask whom I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“Your house, your rules.” She replied. “We are the three. The Sisters of Fate and Destiny. Never have we been correctly named, for your kind only glimpse us in half-truths. By a thousand names we have been known, and throughout time a thousand more names shall be shown. Imprisoned beyond the stars we lie, though without us humanity will slowly die.”
“Probably. Hmph.” The middle sister’s ethereal voice danced on the edge of Robert’s hearing.
He smiled at that. “Perhaps something a bit shorter?”
She nodded solemnly. “You may call me Clotho.”
“Clotho, Sister of Fate, she who spins the thread. Wait. I thought that the child spun the thread, not the crone.”
“You callin’ me a crone, sonny boy?”
Robert blinked. “I apologize. It was not my intent to slight you. I was only trying to clarify my lack of understanding.”
Gap toothed, she replied with a grin. “As I said, not correctly named. With knowledge comes power, and we are careful to guard true knowledge of our nature. Your kind know half-truths, by design. We are beings of the cosmos, of ideas, of unknowable origin. We take the forms that please each of us best. And we make sure the forms of our names do not match the forms of your ideas.”
Robert shrugged. “Okay. How can I help you? Or, rather, what do you need from me, to come to me in this fashion.”
The crone sat, settling herself on the bench across from Robert. “Much shall come to pass. One mortal must know the Tapestry of Fate, if the tapestry of humanity is to continue. That mortal might be you.”
“Lucky me, eh?” Robert rubbed his neck. The offer wasn’t surprising. He had received many over the course of his life, but was unwilling to forsake Coyote, his guide. “Surely you know how many offers I have had for patronage? Though you are the first to offer it in person.”
Clotho cackled. “We do not offer you patronage, foolish little man-child. We offer only responsibility. Our hands are bound by the laws of the weaving. We alone can reach beyond the boundaries of the prison, but can share nothing other than information. You gain nothing from us but knowledge in time to act upon it.”
He sat forward. “That is tempting, but I will not forsake my guide. He laid down a path for me that he has spent a thousand years refining, and though I have but one mortal life to walk it, I’ll not forsake that.”
She laughed. “Nor would we want you to. The aspect of the trickster which you follow is the reason we chose you. None may meddle with our design but the Trickster’s chosen avatars. That is the conundrum of trying to manage the lives of billions of creatures that have the attention span of a cat in heat.”
“I’m not so sure we are the cats in heat. Or, at least, we aren’t the only ones in heat.” Robert rolled his shoulders, stretching them as the steam warmed him. “You come to the one who can sidestep your pattern.…I assume you wish to guide our meddling?”
“Not in the slightest. I offer only foreknowledge. Not advice on how you should act up on it.”
Robert thought. It was intriguing to be offered responsibility rather than power. “I am interested. But I must consult with Coyote, I cannot make this decision without him.”
Clotho held up her wrinkled hand. “This I cannot allow. To grant the Trickster knowledge of this transaction would break the laws. What we offer you is a very gray area, and any of the powers knowing about it would give those
“I go.” The eldest spoke.
“Poo.”
“Hmph.”
The mist pulsed, an unseen wind separated it to reveal an old woman, supporting herself with a gnarled walking stick. She cocked her head to the side, staring at Robert. “Not at all, little mortal. We always talk like that, and it is no interruption.”
He nodded politely. “May I ask whom I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“Your house, your rules.” She replied. “We are the three. The Sisters of Fate and Destiny. Never have we been correctly named, for your kind only glimpse us in half-truths. By a thousand names we have been known, and throughout time a thousand more names shall be shown. Imprisoned beyond the stars we lie, though without us humanity will slowly die.”
“Probably. Hmph.” The middle sister’s ethereal voice danced on the edge of Robert’s hearing.
He smiled at that. “Perhaps something a bit shorter?”
She nodded solemnly. “You may call me Clotho.”
“Clotho, Sister of Fate, she who spins the thread. Wait. I thought that the child spun the thread, not the crone.”
“You callin’ me a crone, sonny boy?”
Robert blinked. “I apologize. It was not my intent to slight you. I was only trying to clarify my lack of understanding.”
Gap toothed, she replied with a grin. “As I said, not correctly named. With knowledge comes power, and we are careful to guard true knowledge of our nature. Your kind know half-truths, by design. We are beings of the cosmos, of ideas, of unknowable origin. We take the forms that please each of us best. And we make sure the forms of our names do not match the forms of your ideas.”
Robert shrugged. “Okay. How can I help you? Or, rather, what do you need from me, to come to me in this fashion.”
The crone sat, settling herself on the bench across from Robert. “Much shall come to pass. One mortal must know the Tapestry of Fate, if the tapestry of humanity is to continue. That mortal might be you.”
“Lucky me, eh?” Robert rubbed his neck. The offer wasn’t surprising. He had received many over the course of his life, but was unwilling to forsake Coyote, his guide. “Surely you know how many offers I have had for patronage? Though you are the first to offer it in person.”
Clotho cackled. “We do not offer you patronage, foolish little man-child. We offer only responsibility. Our hands are bound by the laws of the weaving. We alone can reach beyond the boundaries of the prison, but can share nothing other than information. You gain nothing from us but knowledge in time to act upon it.”
He sat forward. “That is tempting, but I will not forsake my guide. He laid down a path for me that he has spent a thousand years refining, and though I have but one mortal life to walk it, I’ll not forsake that.”
She laughed. “Nor would we want you to. The aspect of the trickster which you follow is the reason we chose you. None may meddle with our design but the Trickster’s chosen avatars. That is the conundrum of trying to manage the lives of billions of creatures that have the attention span of a cat in heat.”
“I’m not so sure we are the cats in heat. Or, at least, we aren’t the only ones in heat.” Robert rolled his shoulders, stretching them as the steam warmed him. “You come to the one who can sidestep your pattern.…I assume you wish to guide our meddling?”
“Not in the slightest. I offer only foreknowledge. Not advice on how you should act up on it.”
Robert thought. It was intriguing to be offered responsibility rather than power. “I am interested. But I must consult with Coyote, I cannot make this decision without him.”
Clotho held up her wrinkled hand. “This I cannot allow. To grant the Trickster knowledge of this transaction would break the laws. What we offer you is a very gray area, and any of the powers knowing about it would give those
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