the Fates seemed to regard mortal time, Dex figured the Fates’s trouble started either in 1700 or 1960. He wasn’t going to narrow it down any farther. The Fates were notified recently (which Dex guessed to be about two years ago mortal time) that they would be forced to step out of their positions due to newly imposed term limits.
(“They laid you off, then,” Vivian said as she sat down at the table, and everyone glared at her except Dex, who had to bend his head to hide a smile.)
The Fates were told that there were new requirements for their job and that they didn’t meet any of those requirements. The Powers That Be (the Fates paused for genuflection) would contact the legal-minded mages, encourage some to apply, and then open the process to application. The application process wouldn’t start for some time.
“How much time?” Dex asked.
“Just shush and listen,” Clotho said.
“It’s important, isn’t it?” he asked. “What if they’ve already started the application process.”
“They haven’t,” Lachesis said.
“I doubt anyone has even noticed we’re gone yet,” Atropos said.
“I noticed,” Dex said glumly.
Beneath the table, Vivian put her hand on his. The brush of her soft skin sent a tingle through him. He turned his hand upward so that he could hold hands properly. Their fingers meshed, and he rubbed his thumb along her forefinger. Touching her felt good, and eased the sense of frustration he was getting from this conversation with the Fates.
“Maybe you’ll get it if we explain the application process,” Clotho said, and before he got to weigh in on that idea, they did:
According to the Fates, the Powers That Be (genuflect) promised to examine each applicant, pick a few good candidates (maybe fifteen, five for each position) and interview, interview, interview.
So the Fates decided that they would reapply, but first, they would gain experience in the areas they lacked. Those new areas sounded simple enough: They needed to understand other cultures; they needed to learn diplomacy; and they needed to experience powerlessness.
“The problem,” Lachesis said, “is that the makeup of the governing council of the Powers That Be—” Here the women genuflected again. Vivian looked at Dex as if she wondered if she should too, but he shook his head. “—has changed in the last two thousand years. They argue a great deal about cultural heritage. We have Egyptians, the Norse, of course, Japanese, Native Americans—”
“Frankly, I put much of this change on that Coyote person. He seems to enjoy stirring things up, which is not what we’re about. How he got on the governing council I’ll never know.” Atropos squeezed her teacup so hard that her knuckles turned white.
“I told you,” Clotho said. “He can be reasonable when it’s in his own best interest.”
“I have a hunch this isn’t the kind of cultural understanding they all want,” Dex said. He kept moving his thumb on Vivian’s hand, enjoying the feel of her.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lachesis said, “at least not yet.”
“Well, it does,” Atropos said, “if we’re going to understand all of this. After all, the Powers That Be”—another genuflection—“believe that we’re too Greek, even though the country didn’t exist yet when we were born.”
“They meant our heritage is too Mediterranean,” Clotho said.
“And too old,” Lachesis said. “I got a real sense of ageism from them.”
Dex shook his head slightly. Discrimination within his ruling government. What a shock.
” I don’ t understand.” With her free hand, Vivian picked up the teapot, shook it, and seemed satisfied with its slosh. “How did that lead you all to me?”
“We decided to go after all of this backward,” Atropos said.
“We figure we can learn cultural diversity and diplomacy,” Clotho said. “After all, how hard can it be? A few books here and there, maybe a few movies, and we’re covered.”
This
(“They laid you off, then,” Vivian said as she sat down at the table, and everyone glared at her except Dex, who had to bend his head to hide a smile.)
The Fates were told that there were new requirements for their job and that they didn’t meet any of those requirements. The Powers That Be (the Fates paused for genuflection) would contact the legal-minded mages, encourage some to apply, and then open the process to application. The application process wouldn’t start for some time.
“How much time?” Dex asked.
“Just shush and listen,” Clotho said.
“It’s important, isn’t it?” he asked. “What if they’ve already started the application process.”
“They haven’t,” Lachesis said.
“I doubt anyone has even noticed we’re gone yet,” Atropos said.
“I noticed,” Dex said glumly.
Beneath the table, Vivian put her hand on his. The brush of her soft skin sent a tingle through him. He turned his hand upward so that he could hold hands properly. Their fingers meshed, and he rubbed his thumb along her forefinger. Touching her felt good, and eased the sense of frustration he was getting from this conversation with the Fates.
“Maybe you’ll get it if we explain the application process,” Clotho said, and before he got to weigh in on that idea, they did:
According to the Fates, the Powers That Be (genuflect) promised to examine each applicant, pick a few good candidates (maybe fifteen, five for each position) and interview, interview, interview.
So the Fates decided that they would reapply, but first, they would gain experience in the areas they lacked. Those new areas sounded simple enough: They needed to understand other cultures; they needed to learn diplomacy; and they needed to experience powerlessness.
“The problem,” Lachesis said, “is that the makeup of the governing council of the Powers That Be—” Here the women genuflected again. Vivian looked at Dex as if she wondered if she should too, but he shook his head. “—has changed in the last two thousand years. They argue a great deal about cultural heritage. We have Egyptians, the Norse, of course, Japanese, Native Americans—”
“Frankly, I put much of this change on that Coyote person. He seems to enjoy stirring things up, which is not what we’re about. How he got on the governing council I’ll never know.” Atropos squeezed her teacup so hard that her knuckles turned white.
“I told you,” Clotho said. “He can be reasonable when it’s in his own best interest.”
“I have a hunch this isn’t the kind of cultural understanding they all want,” Dex said. He kept moving his thumb on Vivian’s hand, enjoying the feel of her.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lachesis said, “at least not yet.”
“Well, it does,” Atropos said, “if we’re going to understand all of this. After all, the Powers That Be”—another genuflection—“believe that we’re too Greek, even though the country didn’t exist yet when we were born.”
“They meant our heritage is too Mediterranean,” Clotho said.
“And too old,” Lachesis said. “I got a real sense of ageism from them.”
Dex shook his head slightly. Discrimination within his ruling government. What a shock.
” I don’ t understand.” With her free hand, Vivian picked up the teapot, shook it, and seemed satisfied with its slosh. “How did that lead you all to me?”
“We decided to go after all of this backward,” Atropos said.
“We figure we can learn cultural diversity and diplomacy,” Clotho said. “After all, how hard can it be? A few books here and there, maybe a few movies, and we’re covered.”
This
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