Clotho the Fate

by Joan Holub

  The serpent’s eyes lit up. It nodded eagerly.

  Her sisters giggled in surprise to see such a big bad serpent’s heart melting over a teeny puppet friend. He was lonely, Clotho realized. And her puppet made him feel less so.

  Hmm. She knew how he felt. She often felt lonely too. Of course, she was lucky to have two sisters that were also her good friends. Still, she longed to make new friends, too. To hang out with girls who wouldn’t think they had the right to tell her what to do just because she was the youngest, and who didn’t always talk about the same ol’ stuff. Sometimes she’d like to talk about other kinds of things, things that didn’t really interest her sisters, like maybe sports or pets or knitting puppets.

  Clotho flicked the cat puppet into her bag. Then she poked around inside it to search for the colored yarn she’d need to knit more serpents. “Looks like I’ll need more green yarn. Also more wool for tonight’s fate-spinning.”

  Just then a loud whooshing sound reached her ears. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, came zooming across the sky toward them in a silver chariot piled high with letterscrolls and packages. Upon reaching the girls, he put his chariot on autopilot. It began to circle alongside their branch, powered by a pair of mighty white wings that flapped on the chariot’s sides.

  “Delivery!” With that announcement, Hermes plunged headlong into the mound of scrolls to search for something.

  “Delivery?” Clotho echoed in surprise. For some reason his announcement caused her sisters to exchange nervous looks. What was up with that?

  Lachesis turned to Clotho. “Maybe you should get going to look for that yarn and wool you need.” Atropos nodded in agreement. It almost seemed like her sisters were in a hurry to get rid of her.

  “I’m thinking I might drop some of my finger puppets off at the homes of lonely mortals down in Greece,” Clotho mumbled, her curious gaze on Hermes. “And maybe take a bunch to the parents of some newborn mortals too. They could do finger-puppet shows to entertain their newborns when they cry.”

  At this, her sisters seemed to temporarily forget about Hermes. When they eyed her, she hunched her shoulders. She knew what was coming. And sure enough…

  “That would be a violation of Zeus’s Rule Number Three,” Atropos warned her.

  “I know, I know. He doesn’t want us mingling with mortals,” said Clotho. “I’ll just drop them off secretly. Sneak in; sneak out. No will even know I was ever there.”

  Before either of her sisters could further object to her plan, Hermes yelled, “Aha! Found it.” He pulled out a box full of letterscrolls and straightened, triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Incoming!” he called, tossing the box down to them.

  Thump! It landed closest to Clotho on the thick tree branch she and her sisters stood upon. The box teetered for a moment and the serpent below eyed it, letting out a blast of fire. Luckily, she managed to rescue the box before it could fall into the creature’s claws or jaws.

  “Give me that!” her sisters both called out. Clotho didn’t listen. Lifting the lid, she eyed the letterscrolls in the box quizzically. All were addressed to The Fates.

  A feeling of delight rose up in her. “Mail? For us? I can’t believe it. We never get mail!” Because they didn’t have a home with a mailing address, of course! Grr.

  “Huh?” said Hermes. “Yes, you do. Your sisters pick it up at my office in the Immortal Marketplace once a week.”

  Speaking to Lachesis and Atropos, he added, “I know you would’ve come for it soon. But I happened to see you here as I was passing by, so I decided to save you a trip. Hey, hold on. Might have more for you in here somewhere.”

  As he dove into the pile of packages and scrolls in the back of his chariot again, Clotho frowned at her sisters. “We get mail? How come you never told me? That’s not fair!”

  “Wait!” said Lachesis, as Clotho unrolled a letterscroll.

  “Don’t!” said Atropos.

  Before they could stop her, Clotho began reading the letterscroll. Its contents caused her to frown. Putting it aside, she read a second one. And then, with growing dismay, a third. All were from mortals—unhappy, complaining mortals.

  “These letterscrolls are mean!” she exclaimed to her sisters. She read the worst parts of the three aloud:

  * * *

  “Fates, you stink! I wanted to be a teacher, but you made it my destiny to become a doctor. One who faints at the sight of blood!”

  “Hey, you bossy Fates, I wanted to travel around the world. But no, you made me live my whole life in the same city. So boring. Thanks for nothing!”

  “Dear FinkFates, I’m so mad at you. You let my granny die. You are villains!”

  A terrible feeling of hurt squeezed Clotho’s heart. Because who wanted to be considered a villain? Not her! And she wasn’t. Her sisters weren’t either. She looked at them with sorrowful eyes. “Mortals don’t like us?”

  “They fear your power,” Hermes replied before her sisters could open their mouths. His chariot was now hovering only a few feet from them. “They don’t like you bossing them around and deciding their destinies.”

  Clotho glared at Hermes. “We don’t boss them around. It’s the Destiny List and the Threads of Fate that together decide who they’ll be and what they’ll do. And how long they’ll live, too. We just set things in motion.” She angrily squeezed the letterscrolls she still clutched, crumpling them. “They should be grateful to us for doing that, not mad at us.”

  Looking a little nervous, Hermes held up his hands, palms facing out. “Hey, don’t blame the messenger. I didn’t write those letterscrolls, remember? I just delivered them.”

  Lachesis spread her hands. “See? This is why we’ve always picked up the mail in secret and hidden these letters from you,” she told Clotho. “We knew they’d upset you.”

  Clotho’s eyebrows rose and so did her voice. “You mean we’ve gotten mean letters like these before?”

  Lachesis nodded. “Lots of ’em.”

  “Sadly, mortals don’t get that we don’t decide their fates. We just set them in motion, like you said, Clotho,” added Atropos. “If we didn’t do our job each night, their lives would have no plan. They’d be aimless!”

  “We should write them all back and tell them that,” urged Clotho.

  Lachesis shook her head, her dark brown hair flickering with purple highlights as it swung at her shoulders. “Rule Number Three, remember? No mingling with mortals. And exchanging letters would be mingling.”

  “It’s not fair that we can’t explain,” grumbled Clotho.

  “Zeus makes rules for a reason,” Atropos reminded her sharply.

  “But what’s the reason for this one?” asked Clotho. “I don’t get it.”

  Lachesis shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, you do understand that by keeping the mortals’ letterscrolls from you, we were only trying to protect you from their unkind words. Right, little sis?”

  Mm-hm. Treat her like a baby, her sister meant. Even though Clotho’s feelings were both hurt and confused, she nodded reluctantly. “So mortals have always feared us?” When her sisters didn’t reply, she took that for a yes.

  “Um… what kind of animals are you going to knit in your free time today?” asked Lachesis. She was obviously trying to lighten things up by changing the subject.

  “I don’t know,” Clotho said with a sigh. She wasn’t sure what hurt more: the mean letters themselves, or the fact that her sisters had hidden them from her. They may have believed they were protecting her, but their secretiveness only made her feel left out.

  Hermes paused in the act of searching through his packages to gaze down at Clotho in surprise. “You mean you don’t know what your own fate will be today? I thought the Fates knew everything.”

  “Actually, we can’t even predict in advance where we’ll be working from one night to the next,” blurted Clotho. Slyly she added, “If we had a home, that would be easy, of course.”

  “Uh-oh, here we go again,” muttered Atropos, rol
ling her eyes.

  Hermes’ head popped up from his dive into the packages to nod so hard at them that the small wings on the cap he wore began to flap, causing it to lift off his head. “That would be mega-awesome,” he said, snatching the cap and putting it back on securely. “If you had a permanent address, I could deliver your mail directly to you all the time.” Efficiently, he continued to toss down additional letterscrolls addressed to them as he discovered more.

  Even though she wasn’t sure she and her sisters would want to read that mail if it only contained letterscrolls as nasty and complaining as the few she’d just read, Clotho felt a spurt of triumph. She turned to her sisters. “See? Even Hermes agrees we need a home.”

  Atropos folded her arms. “A home base would only lead to trouble,” she said stubbornly. “If mortals always knew where to find us, they wouldn’t just send us grumpy letters. They’d come visit to complain to us in person.”

  “Yeah, how fun would that be? Not at all!” said Lachesis, shaking her head.

  Hmm. Her sisters had a point. And yet…

  “I still think we should do something to convince them we’re not meanies. To earn their respect,” Clotho replied. “Besides, I don’t agree that writing back to them would be mingling. We need to explain what we do for them and how important it is. And anyway, I mean, I love you guys, but a chance to make some other friends, even as pen pals, might be nice too.”

  Her sisters looked aghast. “You can’t have mortal friends!” they exclaimed in unison.

  “Yeah, yeah. Zeus’s rule,” said Clotho, feeling frustrated. Rule #3 was one rule she could do without!

  “It’s really not a good idea,” Lachesis said gently.

  Thunk! Hermes tossed out one last letterscroll, which Atropos caught.

  “That’s all for now!” he called out cheerily.

  Clotho had no desire to read any more of those mean letterscrolls. Her sisters had stuffed them in their bags and were ignoring them too, at least for now. Frustrated and feeling antsy, she grabbed her bulky travel bag. “I’m off to go find more wool. And some green yarn.”

  Overhearing, Hermes called down to her as he rearranged the packages left in his chariot. “Try the Immortal Marketplace. There’s a shop there called Arachne’s Sewing Supplies. It closed a while back, but I think it still has all its remaining stock of yarn and wool. Now that the owner’s gone, I’m sure no one would mind if you took some.”

  With that he swung back into the driver’s seat, and with a flap of mighty white wings, his chariot whisked him away. His final words floated back to them. “A new place called Game On! is opening across the atrium from the shop, so just follow the crowds going to its grand opening.”

  “Thanks! I’ll check it out!” Clotho called after him.

  “Uh, no you won’t,” Atropos said sharply.

  Lachesis nodded in agreement. “The Immortal Marketplace is off-limits. It’s not just immortals who shop there. Mortals do too.”

  “If they notice you and figure out you’re a Fate, they’ll either complain about their destinies or ask you to grant favors. Long life, more toys, new boyfriends or girlfriends, chocolate, jewels, all kinds of things we can’t and shouldn’t deliver,” said Atropos.

  “Yeah,” said Lachesis. “One time, this eight-year-old boy wrote to us for a real sword! And another time, a little girl begged us to turn her feet into duck feet.”

  Clotho planted her fists on both sides of her waist. “But you both go to the IM.”

  “Only to get mail,” said Atropos. “We go early before most shoppers arrive, keep our heads down, and never speak to any mortals there.”

  “So that’s what I’ll do too. Zip into the IM, get what I need at that sewing shop, and zip back out,” Clotho argued. “Then I’ll find a rainbow somewhere to perch on to work on my knitting.”

  “Let’s put your idea to a vote,” suggested Atropos.

  “I vote no,” both sisters said at the same time. As usual, they stuck together. Two against one. Since Clotho was the one, her vote made no difference. At times like this, she really wished she were not a Fate. Not part of a team. Able to make her own choices. Instead she always had to abide by her older sisters’ wishes. Not to mention Zeus’s unfair rules. Argh!

  3 The Immortal Marketplace

  CLOTHO HEFTED HER TRAVEL BAG and pulled its straps over one shoulder, then bent at the waist to call down to the serpent. “Yoo-hoo! As soon as I have your little green puppet family ready, I’ll come back and drop them off, okay?”

  Snorts sounded and green puffs floated up to the three sisters through the branches of the tree they stood in. Clotho figured that meant “Great!” in serpent lingo.

  “Where are you going?” Atropos asked her, sounding suspicious.

  “I need wool for tonight’s work, remember?” Clotho replied. “There won’t be any lying around on Orion. I mean, it’s not like sheep graze on constellations. I’m sure there’s a sheep herd around here somewhere. I’ll find one and do a little shearing. I’ll also have to spin some yarn and dye it green to make the serpent family. Busy, busy.”

  “Well, that’s okay, then. See you tonight,” said Lachesis.

  Clotho saluted her sisters like they were pirate ship captains. “Aye, aye.”

  “No dallying,” Atropos cautioned. “Be at Orion’s Belt before nightfall.”

  “I know, I know,” Clotho grumped. Honestly! Were her sisters ever going to stop treating her like a child? They weren’t even that much older than her! Swallowing her frustration, she said, “I’ll set my sandals to warp speed to make sure I get there on time. Ha-ha! Get it?”

  When Lachesis and Atropos looked at her blankly, she explained. “Warp. You know, as in warp and weft.” Those were terms for the two kinds of directional threads that crossed on a loom to weave fabric. Actually the terms had nothing to do with speed. “Warp speed” referred to a scientifically impossible kind of travel. If warp speed were truly possible, she’d be able to distort space and time to move faster than the speed of light. How cool would that be!

  Her sandals, which she’d knitted from brightly colored yarn, weren’t anywhere near that fast. However, they were magical and would fly her anywhere she wanted to go. Quickly, she chanted to them:

  “Magic sandals,

  Fly with speed

  To find some sheep

  With the wool I need.”

  At her words, the fist-size fluffy pom-poms, one atop each of her sandals, began to spin around like whirlybirds. The sandals lifted her off the branch and whisked her up and away. Soon green farm fields, turquoise seas, and cityscapes were passing far below in a blur of jeweled colors. A brisk wind whipped through her sleek black hair, turning her ears pink with cold.

  Halfway between the Earth and Mount Olympus, the high-ceilinged crystal roof of the Immortal Marketplace came into view. She eyed it curiously. Unlike her sisters, she’d never been inside it.

  When a sudden feeling of warmth fell upon her, she glanced up. A golden chariot was racing across the sky overhead carrying a huge ball of golden flame. The driver, Helios the sun god, waved to her. “Thanks for the sunshine!” Clotho called up to him, waving back.

  Oops! Her waving jostled the bag she carried over one shoulder. She felt something fall from it. Alarmed, she looked down and watched her distaff tumble toward the IM. She dipped lower, zooming after it.

  Minutes later, her magic sandals touched down on a wide slab of fancy marble tiles outside the IM entrance where she thought the distaff had landed. She looked around for it, heart pounding. Finally, she spotted it lying by the IM’s front doors. Phew!

  She scurried over to pick it up. While stowing it in her bag, she caught sight of a carousel through those double glass doors. One with all kinds of exotic animals to ride. How mega-cool was that? If only she could go inside for a closer look. She reached for the doors but then dropped her hand. Her sisters had warned her to stay out of the IM. Someone might recognize her as a Fate. Or she might
accidentally talk to some mortals. That would be breaking the rules.

  Oof! As she backed away, she suddenly bumped into someone. She whirled around to see a girl about her age with fire-gold hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. She was carrying a bunch of boxes and bags piled high in her arms and heading for the Marketplace doors.

  “Oh no!” wailed the girl, stumbling back from the force of Clotho’s jostle. Some of the boxes and bags she’d been carrying slid sideways and toppled to the ground.

  “Sorry!” said Clotho, picking them up.

  “Thanks,” replied the girl. Arms full, she didn’t move to take her packages, and only stood uncertainly before the doors, probably wondering how she was going to open one to get through. “Um… could you…?” She looked around her mound of stuff at Clotho, a question in her eyes.

  “Oh sure. Need some help?” Clotho asked politely. Immediately, she wanted to call back her words. Because she’d just noticed that this girl’s skin did not sparkle the way an immortal’s skin would. Therefore she must be a mortal. And naturally, Clotho didn’t want to break Zeus’s rule about not mingling with mortals. (Even if it was a dumb rule, in her humble opinion.) Then again, it was simply good manners to heed this girl’s plea for help. Right? Surely Zeus wouldn’t want her to be rude. She’d heard he was big on hospitality.

  The girl nodded. “Yes, please.”

  Her mind made up, Clotho pulled one of the doors open. The girl slipped through, packages tottering. One of the boxes the girl was carrying bumped the door frame. Her load tipped to one side. Uh-oh! Clotho leaped forward and grabbed two burlap sacks that appeared to be filled with flour before they could fall.

  “Could you bring those for me, please? Thanks,” the girl called over her shoulder. Without waiting for Clotho to hand back the sacks, she sped up, moving down the wide hallway of the IM. She seemed to assume that Clotho would follow.

  And Clotho did. “Wait! Your stuff!” As she chased after the girl, she glanced ahead. The IM was enormous, with rows and rows of shops separated by tall, ornate columns. Quickly, they came even with the carousel. It was sooo amazing. Clotho studied the wooden animals on the revolving platform, thinking maybe she’d knit some finger puppets to match them. How cool would that be?