She landed at the door of what turned out to be a rather elegant fenced estate guarded by two fierce griffins. When they menaced her, she slid through them on a thread, showing them what they were dealing with.
The door opened, and there stood Luna. “My dear!” Niobe exclaimed. “What have you done with your hair?”
“Grandma!” Luna exclaimed. “Come in!”
They had a nice visit, in the course of which Niobe learned that Luna had used a spell when she moved to America to darken her hair to chestnut brown. “My father insisted,” she said. “I really don’t know why.”
Niobe remembered Satan’s confusion, supposing Luna was the one with the darker hair. Satan had seen her more recently than Niobe had! “I believe I understand why,” she murmured. Her son the Magician had really been on the job!
In due course she kissed her granddaughter adieu and slid home. She had serious business to attend to.
She checked the skein, searching out the threads of current senators. Of course there would be many changes in twenty years, so nothing much should show. But—
She was disappointed. She started with the youngest, who would be most likely to remain for another twenty years or more, therefore the most likely targets for Satan’s effort. After all, what use to corrupt a senator who would not be there for the payoff? But one after the other, the threads were normal. None of them had been touched by the distinctive stigmatum of Satan’s influence.
“Well, it was worth checking,” she said. “It was just a wild guess anyway.”
“Why not check the old ones?” Atropos asked.
“They’d be replaced anyway, by then.”
“Check them anyway. I’ve got a hunch.”
Niobe shrugged and checked the thread of the oldest senator. She stared. There was the kink of Satan!
She checked another old one. There was another stigmatum. Satan had definitely influenced these men!
“But it doesn’t make sense!” Niobe protested. “One of these men is seventy-six years old now, and in failing health; there’s no way he’s going to make it another twenty years!”
“Unless he gets a youth potion,” Atropos replied.
“A youth potion!” Suddenly it made sense! Trust an old woman to think of that! An old, corrupt man would gladly give his soul for that, figuring he was going to Hell anyway. Satan, in effect, could be offering these men twenty more years of life, in exchange for their support at the critical moment. Since they would otherwise be replaced by younger and perhaps more God-fearing men, it was to Satan’s interest to do this.
Luna was being bypassed. That could not be allowed.
She checked more threads. The four oldest senators were kinked; the fifth and sixth weren’t. “The demon hasn’t finished making the bribes!” she said. “We’re not too late to cut short its activity!”
“I don’t know about tangling with a demon,” Clotho said. “Samurai’s teaching me self-defense, but he says it won’t work against magic, and a demon can’t be killed by mortal means.”
“Of course it can!” Atropos said. “Just sprinkle some holy water on it.”
Niobe agreed. “And of course we are invulnerable to injury, as an Incarnation. Neither mortal nor demon can shed our blood unless we concur.”
They fetched a vial of holy water, then slid down to the senator’s residence. As seemed to be customary, the senator had feathered his own nest considerably; it was an elegant estate, with a broad expanse of green lawn, sculptured bushes, and assorted outbuildings surrounding the central mansion.
There was no physical barrier to admission, but a yellow line had been painted around the senator’s property. Magic, Atropos thought darkly.
Niobe walked on along the walk, knowing that no magic could harm an Incarnation. This was one of the greatest advantages of her prior experience: she could proceed with confidence because she knew her powers. Had there been three new Aspects of Fate, Satan would surely have convinced them that they were physically and magically vulnerable, and gained considerable advantage. Thanatos had mentioned being worked over that way by the Father of Lies, until at last he had realized the truth. Niobe remembered how close Satan had come to convincing her to resign her office, the first time in the Void. There were so many forms a lie could take, and Satan practiced them all!
As she crossed the yellow line, there was an alarm. A cloud of birds took off from the roof of the house and came toward her. They seemed to recognize her as an intruder, for they didn’t hesitate; they folded their wings and dived like little hunting-hawks.
Ooo! Clotho thought, mentally ducking. But Niobe merely flung out a loop of thread, and another intersecting it at right angles, defining a sphere about her body. The birds darted into this sphere and abruptly slowed. They lost strength, being unable to penetrate to her body, no matter how hard they flew.
Like the tatami! Clotho thought. She had been picking up martial-arts terms during her association with Samurai. The mat is soft, but it breaks the fall without injury.
“Exactly,” Niobe murmured. “There is nothing more subtle but certain than the web of Fate. No mortal creature can avoid it or nullify it.” She walked on, and after a while the birds gave up and returned to their roosts on the roof.
Nice estate, Atropos thought. I wouldn’t mind working in a place like this.
You’re no servant! Clotho thought angrily. You’re a free woman!
Of course I am, girl—in my mind, Atropos agreed. But in the real world, I always did have to earn my living and I never was ashamed of that.
Niobe smiled ruefully. She had been neither liberated nor servant, but had partaken somewhat of both. Unlike Clotho, she had married the man her father chose for her; unlike Atropos, she had never had to go to work for another person. Yet had she rebelled a little more, initially, she might readily have gone Clotho’s route—and then would have had to follow Atropos’ route. It was still basically a man’s world.
But we still spin the threads of life! Clotho put in.
And we still cut them! Atropos added.
“Well, we are Woman,” Niobe said, smiling. “We possess the sort of power no man can deny.”
As she approached the house, there was a scream from a tree. It was partly like that of a great bird, partly like that of a shrewish woman, and wholly horrible. Then a great, dark shape rose from the tree, flapping ponderous wings.
That’s a damned harpy! Atropos thought.
“Oops,” Niobe murmured. “The magic threads won’t stop that; it’s immortal.”
Maybe I can use self-defense, Clotho thought.
“No good. You could strike it or throw it aside, but its filth would still get on you. It can’t actually hurt us, even if we do nothing, but it could make us sickeningly unclean.”
The ugly creature lumbered toward them through the air. It had the face and dugs of an old woman, and the body of a vulture. The close-set, wrinkle-shrouded eyes peered out at Niobe. For a moment the harpy hovered, surprised, a perfumed stench washing down from the wingbeats.
“What are you doing here, Lachesis?” it demanded. The teeth were long and yellow. “This is none of your affair, you meddlesome ilk!”
“It is my affair, you putrid hen!” Niobe retorted. “Now give way, or I’ll lasso you with a thread.” It was a bluff, but she hoped the harpy wouldn’t know that.
“No thread of yours will hold me, spider-face!” the harpy screeched. “Turn aside, or I’ll poop on you!”
It was no empty threat! But Niobe knew she had to reach the senator before the demon from Hell did. She couldn’t afford delay.
Give me the body! Atropos thought. I know how to handle that sort!
Niobe turned it over. Atropos took form. She strode from the walk, across the lawn to a nearby garden shed.
“Oh, so it’s Atropos now!” the harpy screeched, following. “Whatcha think you’re doing, you old black slave?”
“I’m going to clear out some trash,” Atropos said. She reach
ed the shed and took hold of a weathered broom inside it.
“Go sweep it out, like the stupid stoop-labor hag you are!” the harpy screeched, its stringy hair flinging out as it whirled to fly above Atropos’ head. “Here, I’ll make you feel right at home by emptying the pot on you!”
“The white folks used to set the dogs on us when we came to clean their houses,” Atropos said, hefting the broom. In her competent hands the broom moved almost like a weapon. “Know what we did then?”
“You got chewed up?” the harpy asked with a raucous cackle, following it with the kind of racial epithet no one but a harpy would use.
“We let those bitches have it in the tail!” Atropos said. She swung the broom in a mighty and accurate arc. The bristles caught the harpy in the tail just as it was letting go its poop, and knocked it spinning.
The creature landed claws-up on the ground, screeching piercingly. Atropos, undaunted, strode toward it, broom aloft. The harpy scrambled to its feet and pumped its wings furiously, launching clumsily into the air. It fled, wanting no more of this.
Atropos returned the broom to the shed. “A woman does leam a thing or two in the course of a working life,” she muttered with satisfaction.
She certainly did! Niobe resumed the body and proceeded the rest of the way to the house.
As she came to the door, it burst open and the demon itself charged out. It was about seven feet tall, had a hairy body, a long and tufted tail, horns, and a prominent masculine appendage. It pounced on Niobe, wrapping its long arms about her and opening its mouth so wide that the remaining features were squeezed back into oblivion. The huge pointed teeth descended toward her face.
“Oh, come off it!” Niobe snapped, disgusted. “You can’t bite me!”
Indeed, the demon’s teeth came down to touch her forehead, and stopped. Her flesh was invulnerable.
The demon growled and squeezed her, trying to crush in her ribcage, but the compression had no effect. She was proof against that, too.
Then the demon thought of something else. It brought up its clawed hind feet and raked along the front of her body. Her clothing ripped asunder, but her flesh was unscathed. “You can’t even scratch me, you fool. I am proof from physical injury by any creature your infernal master can send.”
The demon brought its foot up again, ripping her clothing the rest of the way. Now it hung on her by the sleeves, leaving her front exposed. The demon did not release her, but loosened its grip enough to enable it to glance down at her body. It snorted steam.
Then she realized what it was up to. It intended to rape her!
The thing could probably do it. She was secure from physical injury, but not from emotional injury. As experience had long ago shown her, she could participate in sexual congress; it represented no physical abuse of her body. The demon was stronger than she was; it could hold her for this act.
Now she struggled, but her arms remained captive at her sides. She tried to run, but the demon lifted her off the ground. Its member was growing; in a moment it would do what it intended. At the least, she would be utterly humiliated.
Maybe I can fight it! Clotho thought.
How? Atropos responded. It’s immune to our attack, too; we can’t even bite it.
At least let me try!
Niobe, as desperate as any of them, gave her the body. The demon paused, startled at this change, but did not let her go. Then, perceiving that the captive had grown more attractive, it renewed its effort. Clotho twisted desperately, managing to swing her body away a little. Then she brought up her right knee in a savage strike at the demon’s groin. She scored—but the creature did not even gasp. It was, as Niobe had warned, invulnerable.
My turn! Atropos thought.
Clotho turned the body over to her. Again the demon paused, noting the change, but again it resumed its design after a moment. It changed its grip, to force the body closer, and used its nether claws to grasp the legs and wedge them apart.
“Damn!” Atropos swore. “I thought I could slide away on the thread—but I can’t fling out any strand while my arms are pinned!”
The demon grinned. It had known this.
Suddenly Niobe knew what was required. We’re all fools! she thought. Give me back the body!
Atropos gave it to her. Niobe assumed control just as the demon’s hot flesh nudged hers.
She shifted to spider form. Suddenly she had eight limbs and was much smaller. Fate could be any size arachnid she wished. She slipped out of the surprised demon’s grasp and dropped to the ground.
The demon tried to stomp her. Niobe simply stood there and let the clawed foot come down on her body. When the foot rose again, she remained unhurt. The spider was as impervious as any of the human forms.
She reverted to her natural form. The demon grabbed for her again, but this time she had the vial of holy water out. As the demon’s arms clasped her, she put the vial to her own lips and sipped the fluid. “Kiss me, demon,” she murmured, putting her face forward.
The demon’s head jerked back as it smelled the water, but she pursued it. Her arms now clasped its body, preventing its escape exactly as it had prevented hers before. She jammed her mouth against its mouth and spat out the water.
Kiss of death! Clotho thought.
It was indeed. The demon’s flesh melted where the water touched. The lips dissolved and dribbled down the chin, which was rapidly eroded by that fluid. The flesh of the cheeks and tongue puddled, leaving the teeth bare, like those of Thanatos. Then the gums faded away, and the jaw fragmented, and one by one the teeth fell out. The destruction proceeded up the face, eating away the nose and then the eyeballs. Now the thing’s brain came into view, smoking at the outer surface as the effect touched it. The whole brain blackened, then went up in smoke.
Now THAT is the way to deal with a rapist! Atropos thought.
After that, the rest of the body went more quickly, dissolving into vapor from top to bottom, like a gross cigar burning. At last all that remained was the noxious cloud of smoke.
But as the smoke dissipated, something moved. The demon’s right foot remained; it hadn’t dissolved, and had been hidden by the swirling vapors. Her kiss of death had reached its limit.
Niobe reached for her vial again. What harm can one foot do? Clotho thought.
“Any part of a demon is bad news,” Niobe said tersely. She put some holy water on her fingers and reached for the foot.
The thing scrambled across the step, using its claws to hitch itself forward. It was trying to escape. Niobe sprinkled it by snapping her wet fingers outward, and puffs of smoke erupted where the drops struck. The foot fell off the edge of the step, into the grass. She pursued it, sprinkling more water, but the fragment disappeared.
“I hope I got it all,” she muttered.
Can’t be more than a toe left, Atropos thought.
“Demons aren’t like mortal folk,” Niobe said darkly. “Pieces of them can survive.”
Can one toe hurt us? Atropos thought. How?
Niobe shrugged. “I don’t know. But I hope that thing is all gone, now.”
Well, let’s see what’s inside, Clotho thought. Like Atropos, she did not take the toe of one demon seriously, and Niobe had to admit she was probably a bit paranoid about demons. One had killed Cedric, another had killed Blanche, another had tried to eliminate Luna and Orb, and now one had tried to rape her. She had reason—but what, indeed, could one demon toe do?
Niobe pinned her torn dress together as well as she could, and strengthened it with strategically placed strands of thread. Then she walked on into the senator’s house.
A young man stood in the hall. His clothing hung on him, enormously baggy. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings. He was staring at himself in the full-length hall mirror.
She was too late!
She sighed. “Senator?”
He answered without looking at her. “Yes, of course I’ll have to resign my office. There would be talk, gossip, perhaps an investigati
on. I couldn’t afford that! I might even have difficulty proving my identity. After all, I’ve just lost forty years!”
“You’re—not staying on?” This surprised her.
“Of course not. It just isn’t feasible. I’ll have to make a new life. But it’s worth it! Forty more years, starting with everything I already know!”
“But don’t you owe Satan?”
“He asked no price. It’s a gift, no strings.”
“But the burden of evil on your soul—”
“No evil attaches to the acceptance of a gift freely proffered, when I provide no political favor in return. And I won’t; I’m dropping out of politics.”
This amazed her. If the senators weren’t staying in office, how could they do Satan’s bidding, twenty years hence? It didn’t make sense!
At least she had destroyed the demon. There would be no more bribes of restored youth. She extended a thread and slid up it to Purgatory.
They discussed it at the Abode as they rechecked the threads. As they fathomed the changing pattern, the situation came clear. The senators had been bribed indirectly—by being freely given what they most desired. In order to enjoy it, they had to vacate their offices. That meant there would be appointees to complete the terms— and Satan surely controlled those appointments. The new senators would all be young and competent and would give no sign of their true loyalty—until that day, some twenty or so years hence, when Satan required it, to negate Luna’s position and give the final victory to Satan. A long-term plan, a real sleeper—but it seemed it was already in place. In a vote as close as that one was destined to be, four changed votes would be more than enough. Five, counting the senator who had just been eliminated here.
The new threads were not yet in place, however, for the appointees had not yet been appointed; that process would take a few days. But, search the Tapestry as she might, Niobe could find no way to nullify it. Satan had made his play, and could readily defend it against any effort she might take. The five old senators had already been bribed to vacate and could not be unbribed; youth was already theirs.
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