Incarnations of Immortality

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Incarnations of Immortality Page 218

by Anthony, Piers


  Nicolai hardly blinked. "The Romani are quick to assess any situation. Answer me three questions, and I will answer yours."

  "Ask."

  "Which Aspect?"

  Atropos touched her ample bosom. "Me—Atropos. I cut the threads of life."

  "Will I have complete discretion about which threads to cut?"

  "No. You must always consider the benefit of the entire Tapestry of Life, and the interests of the other Aspects and the other Incarnations. The cutting is never random or careless. But within those guidelines, you do have discretion. No one else will second-guess you."

  "Will there be occasion for music or dancing or storytelling?"

  "If you wish."

  "Then I am interested."

  Atropos gazed at him. "You didn't ask about magic or immortality or power."

  "I didn't need to. I know what Incarnations are. I know the power they wield. I know they are immortal as long as they want to be. I know they can choose their forms and that at least one aspect of Fate is always young and lovely."

  "That won't do you any good," Atropos warned. "Only one Aspect can assume form at a time, the other two becoming mere thoughts. You will never be able to touch Clotho."

  "But what joy to be near her!"

  "Then let her be the first to question you," Atropos said grimly.

  Clotho appeared, deceptively young and bouncy. "So you like to dance," she said. "How can you reconcile that with the serious business of cutting threads?"

  "What is life worth without merriment? Serious matters constantly beset every mortal person. We can seek reprieve only in the innocent pleasures of life, such as music and dance and the appreciation of luscious flesh like yours."

  Clotho was not much moved. "If you faced death tomorrow, would you dance today?"

  "Yes! I face death every moment of my life, especially now that my years are almost done, so every moment I make the most of it. There can be no better death than with a fiddle in my hands and a song in my throat and beauty in my eye."

  She remained skeptical. "Let me see you dance, then."

  "Give me a partner."

  Clotho hesitated, obviously not wanting to be diverted by getting into it herself.

  I'll do it! Vita thought. I think his dancing is terrific! "Do it, then." Orlene turned the body over to her. "I'll dance with you!" Vita cried. "But I don't know the tanana!

  "Then learn it," Nicolai said, assuming a formal position. He seemed unsurprised by her appearance from nowhere. "Stand opposite me, look me in the eye. Now respond as I move, so." He demonstrated—and as he moved, he seemed to lose forty years.

  Vita followed his directions, haltingly at first, then with greater confidence. Soon she was doing a bit of the tanana, and becoming extraordinarily sexy in the process. The dance left barely enough to the imagination to differentiate it from abandoned lovemaking, yet that caused the imagination to run rampant. Her hips flung out, and around, and forward in unmistakable emulation of vigorous copulation. Her breasts stood up and shook independently. But it was the movements of the head that had the greatest effect, particularly the eyes. She shot dark glances sidelong at her partner, those looks barely passing her tousled hair, and Nicolai met them with such burgeoning implication that even in the midst of her own effort she blushed. Jolie knew that the Gypsies were supposed to be lusty folk; now she knew that it was no exaggeration. They made sex appeal into an art, and it was truly shameless: they had no shame in it. Jolie felt Vita's increasing delight in the forms of it: this was almost as good as making it with Roque!

  Meanwhile Clotho watched, her cynicism slowly becoming interest, and her interest excitement. Her body mirrored in diminished scope the motions Vita was making. Finally she could stand it no longer; she stepped forward, joining the dance.

  Clotho was good at it; obviously she had had experience dancing. She quickly picked up the motions Vita had struggled over, and her voluptuous body gave her a head start. Orlene, watching, had a thought: She is Norton's lover?

  You died, Jolie reminded her. He still prefers you, but you can not join him.

  I have no business being jealous, she agreed. All the same...

  Nicolai adapted without a hitch. Now he danced opposite two young women, and courted them both, and made both feel helplessly wanton. He could have stripped the clothes off each and done whatever he wanted with them, and neither would have objected; rather, they would have joined in with enthusiasm. They were captive of the tanana, and reveling in it. They had lost the social limitations they had come with, for the abandon of the dance.

  Nicolai brought it to a halt. With the termination of his motion, his age returned. "That is the way I want to die," he repeated. "With lovely, panting maidens surrounding me. I have no fear of death when I have the dance. It is even better to the music, and with costume."

  Clothe and Vita looked at each other. Indeed, they were panting, more from excitement than from the exertion of the exercise. "I must learn that dance!" Clotho said. "Eighty years old, and he can do that to me—I must learn it!"

  Then she was replaced by Lachesis. "You have one vote, Nicolai," she said. "But I am not frozen at twenty; I have more on my mind than physical expression." Nicolai squinted at her. "Orb!" he exclaimed. "You are her mother!"

  "Now how would you know that?" Lachesis asked, startled.

  "I am of the Romani. I see the family favor. Orb, she was beautiful, and she had a talent with music. She said once that her mother had been the most beautiful woman of her generation. I have seen none lovelier than Orb. You what were you like when you were her age?"

  Lachesis changed, becoming abruptly younger, and stunningly beautiful. "When I was Niobe," she said.

  "Ah, she was right!" he breathed. "And can you also make music like hers?"

  "No. She derived that from her father's side. Now stop trying to flatter me, and we'll see whether you qualify for our position."

  "I was not trying to flatter you!" he protested innocently. "You know I spoke only truth."

  "And a Gypsy can charm anyone!" she said. But she did not revert to her older form. She had been charmed, despite her caution.

  "What would you have me do?"

  "Can you relate to the problems of women, as well as to their sex appeal?"

  He smiled. "In your presence, this is difficult—no, do not change!—but I will try. I sired but one daughter, and she was blind and lame, but I loved her as I loved none but her mother, and I treated her as a princess, and she was beautiful, but others did not find her so, and that was my abiding grief. What is there for a girl of the Romani who can not dance? But she had magic, and I wished I could teach her to use it, but I could not, for all I knew was the fiddle.

  "Then Orb came, and she played and sang, and she had the magic. I sent for her, and gave her Tinka, and Orb taught my beloved to use her magic, and garbed her prettily, and was her friend, and brought her to the dance, and now Tinka could do well what was halting before, for her music gave her strength, and she was lovelier than any save her mentor, and the young men clustered around her, and soon she was married. From that moment Orb had no enemy among our kind, and I loved her for what she had done for my beloved child.

  "Always before, I had seen in every woman the shadow of what was the great darkness that blighted my daughter, for without beauty a woman is nothing. Always thereafter I saw in every woman a hint of the brilliance of my beloved, and no woman was ugly to me, and I loved them all. If a woman has a problem, it is my problem too; if she hurts, I hurt too. Now Tinka is a grandmother, for generations come fast among our kind, and she can see, and I thank the world each day for the occasion that brought her salvation. That was your daughter, Niobe, who blessed mine, and I would do anything for her or for you." He abruptly stepped forward, swept Niobe into his arms and kissed her.

  Jolie watched, caught between a laugh and outrage. What an impertinent gesture! But she saw that Niobe wasn't resisting, and indeed was cooperating. Two down, Orlene thought, an
d Jolie had to agree. The old man certainly knew how to make an impression on women, young or old, and all of them were women.

  Niobe broke, gently. "It occurs to me that we could use talent like that, on occasion," she said. "But Fate has been traditionally female, and there could be complications if one of our Aspects was male. For example, we have been having an affair with another Incarnation, and I think it best that he not know that there is any male involvement. How are you at emulating a woman?"

  "I would regard it as an exercise in costume," Nicolai said. "In my youth, I dressed in skirt and stuffed blouse and thieved from a rich household, undiscovered, though the master stole a kiss from me. But I fear my whiskers would give me away now."

  Niobe laughed. "You would be able to don fully female flesh, of any age. That is not the problem. It is the attitude: could you act female for any length of time without becoming angry or ashamed?"

  "Perhaps you misunderstand the nature of Romani pride," he said. "It is not in being male or female, but in being apt at what one does. If I emulate a woman, my pride is in being so good at it that not only does no one suspect, but any man I encounter cannot keep his eyes and his hands off me."

  The mature Lachesis reappeared. "You are a rogue, Gypsy man!"

  Nicolai smiled. "You knew that before you kissed me, Irish woman."

  "Indeed I did! Were you not so winning, I would urge Atropos to cut your thread immediately. But we are in need, and it may be better to have your persuasive nature working for us, for those times we must deal with others of your nature."

  Atropos appeared. "And it is my turn. I'm no young pretty thing, and never was one; I'm an old black woman who's seen your kind before. You want to take my place, you rascal, then you sell me, and a kiss won't do it."

  "If I can't sell you, I don't deserve to take your place, you magnificent creature," he said.

  "I think this is going to be fun," Vita murmured. "We have a case now for some thread cutting," Atropos said grimly. "We had hoped to find the new Atropos before this, but have taken too much time already, and it will have to do for an examination exercise. Come and see how you see it, because this is the job you would have to do." She flung a web, and it settled about Nicolai. Then she became the huge spider and raced through the roof and into the sky, hauling the man along, with Vita trailing.

  Nicolai looked back at Vita. "I never thought I would go to Heaven; the Romani really don't believe in it, though we profess whatever religion is current and convenient. But if it happened, I didn't think it would be like this!"

  "We aren't going to Heaven," Vita said. "Purgatory, maybe, but not Heaven."

  "You do not seem to be an Incarnation. I did not see you until you stepped out to dance with me. Why are you here?"

  "I came at a bad time, so they took me along. I'm just a street girl, with two ghosts to set me straight. This is fan!"

  "The Romani could teach you much."

  "Yes, but I'm supposed to steer clear of that stuff!" Vita said, laughing.

  "Perhaps we shall meet again."

  "Gee, I hope so!"

  The spider halted. Atropos remanifested. They were in a chamber, and something was going on.

  "We cannot be perceived," Atropos said. "We are as ghosts to the mortals here. This is a large saucer, about to be hijacked by terrorists six hours hence, as it orbits the Moon. We must manage events to minimize needless loss of life. Mishandled, the saucer will crash, costing two thousand innocent lives and several guilty ones. But the skein is already tangled, and now we must choose which threads to cut, and to what length. What is your judgment?"

  Vita whistled silently. "That old lady, she doesn't fool around!" she murmured.

  Nicolai swayed a moment, evidently set back by the suddenness and force of this challenge. Then he took hold. "Are there any stops between here and the Moon?"

  "No," Atropos said.

  "Any intercepting craft?"

  "No."

  "So all crew and passengers are aboard, and cannot leave?"

  "Yes."

  "May we warn the Captain about the coming hijacking, so he can prevent it?"

  "No. Fate may not interfere overtly in the Tapestry of Life. It has long since been established that to do so leads to unmanageable complications and snarls that have worse effect than any good done by the interference. You might liken it to performing surgery on a man by poking him with a long needle: the harm in the doing exceeds the harm of inaction."

  "So we can neither kill the hijackers early nor warn of their plot?"

  "We can't kill them at all," Atropos said. "See, here is the skein." She gestured, and the endless complex pattern of colored threads appeared, superimposed on the chamber, passing through it. Six threads glowed. "These are the hijackers. One of them enters a tangle at the start of the hijacking; that one we can cut. But the others—see where their threads are destined."

  Indeed, the glowing five remaining threads wound back into the Tapestry to interact with many hundreds or thousands of others. It was plain that if any of these were cut prematurely, there would be extraordinary changes in the fabric and a major unraveling could occur.

  Fate has to manage the entire Tapestry of Life, Jolie thought in explanation. Normally her staff in Purgatory, and her field agents in the mortal realm, handle the details, but in serious cases like this one she takes a personal hand. She's not about to wreck the pattern they have labored to smooth, by interfering grossly here.

  Nicolai peered at the Tapestry where the tangle was the one that marked the hijacking. "Why is this fuzzy?"

  "Because I have not yet decided how to manage it. There is the potential to have a few threads cut and straighten the tangle, or to ignore it, in which case most of the threads will be unable to continue. There are about two thousand of them. But as you can see, this is an intricate knot, with many possibilities, and if I mark the wrong threads for cutting, instead of simplifying the knot it may only make it worse, and many more will be lost. I believe I can bring it down to fifteen cuts, but I would prefer that it be even fewer."

  Nicolai inspected the pattern closely. "I have been good at tangles in the past," he said. "The Romani learn what we have to, including the artistry of tying and untying many kinds of knots." He traced the lines that skirted the tangle. Five of them glowed. "The hijackers are on the saucer with the victims, yet do not tangle?"

  "The Tapestry of Life takes only peripheral note of geography," Atropos explained. "What is important is how lives interact with each other. Those five remain largely aloof and in charge; they will take a life ship away from the saucer if they encounter trouble, and will hold the passengers hostage otherwise. Only the crew and passengers are at risk—and almost any or all of them can be cut off here, unless I act to alleviate it."

  "These threads here and there which almost merge what does that signify?"

  "A very intimate interaction," she replied gruffly. "Romance or lovemaking. That normally occurs when a new thread is started in the Tapestry. On entertainment voyages such as this one, a lot of it goes on. That is a portion of the appeal of planetary tours."

  He nodded, and continued looking closely.

  "Sometimes there is a key strand which, when pulled or cut, frees the entire mass," Nicolai said, peering closely at the thick column of threads that represented the interaction of all those on the saucer. The six hijacker threads were mixed in, until the tangle began; they were merging with the throng, concealing their nature and purpose. They were evidently experienced—and this success would enhance their influence in the mortal realm, as their subsequent interactions indicated. "Satan has a hand in this?"

  "Of course," Atropos said, "He stands to gain by the disruption of the orderly skein. The more disruption there is, the more evil surfaces, and he gleans that evil."

  But the evil is there already; Satan merely finds ways to evoke it, Jolie thought. That helps separate evil from good, which is the point of mortal life.

  But what if that separation
occurs at the cost of many lives? Orlene inquired.

  They go to Heaven or to Hell, as the case may be; their souls are immortal.

  But their chance to change their status ends prematurely. That is not fair.

  That is not fair, Jolie agreed.

  "I believe I can cut it down to six lives," Nicolai said, looking up from the skein.

  "Impossible!" Atropos exclaimed. "How do you propose to do that?"

  "By saving this one," he said, pointing to the lone hijacker thread that entered the tangle. "But that will only help the hijackers!"

  "I think not. Note the close association with this victim thread, which also enters the tangle. Are they not lovers?" Atropos looked. "Yes, certainly. What of it?"

  "One is a hijacker, the other a victim." She pursed her lips. "Now that is interesting, I agree! But of course the hijackers conceal their natures until the moment comes to strike. He would take advantage of what offers, male fashion. It can hardly affect the outcome, since he is the one who doesn't make it through cleanly."

  "But if he survives, and loves a victim, what then?" Atropos peered at the configuration. "You sly dog! You just may be correct! In fact, I think you are!"

  "Satan usually leaves a way out, does he not, in case a project sours? This is the secret key he has left, intended only for his own use if he chooses. We had but to find it."

  "Only a rogue would find it!" Atropos said. "Agreed."

  They poked into the tangle, analyzing the implications of the added thread, each making objections and answering them. "Let's play it through," Atropos said at last. "Remember, we must not influence him directly, but if an indirect nudge will do it—"

  We can do it! Vita thought eagerly.

  "We might help," Orlene said.

  "Yes, I could use you," Nicolai said. "You do not count as Fate; you are ghosts."

  Atropos frowned, but did not debate the matter. She obviously wanted to see whether the loss of life could be cut down to the level Nicolai suggested. She made an adjustment on the webs that had brought Vita and Nicolai here. "These will maintain you in unperceived status for the duration. I shall return; at the moment I must see to business elsewhere."

 

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