“She Who Fixes the Present and Seals Men’s Fate,” he said.
Once again she nodded in agreement.
“Lady Verdandi,” he added.
“Yes, Prince Borel, those are names I am known by, and by many others as well.”
Borel stood and bowed deeply, and as he did so he reached out and took her hand and kissed her fingers.
“Ah, Skuld said you were quite the bold one, and now I see why. You would dare flirt with Destiny, eh?”
“If that’s what it takes to free my beloved,” said Borel, not a sign of guilt or fear in his eyes.
Verdandi laughed, and then sobered. “I want to thank you for freeing the lady in white at the ruined tower, for she has been throwing herself from that cliff during storms for summers beyond count. Yet the letter was left behind, and it kept drawing her back, would not let her leave this plane. Your burning it while saying a blessing was just the right thing to do.”
Borel smiled. “I am pleased that I did something right, yet I seem no closer to finding Chelle. Would you help me, my lady, as did your sister Skuld?”
Verdandi sighed. “List, Prince Borel, you have already missed one chance to find the Endless Sands, but you yet have-”
“I what?” said Borel.
“I said, you have missed one chance to find the Endless Sands,” replied Verdandi.
“Lady Lot, when did I-?”
“That is neither here nor there,” snapped Verdandi, “for it is already woven into the tapestry of time.” Then her voice softened, and she said, “Heed, you have one more chance, and I can give some small assistance, for you did aid me across the river and did not let me fall.”
“He fed you, too,” cried Flic from the branches above. “Just like he did Skuld.”
Verdandi smiled and looked up. “Indeed he did, and with honey, too.” She turned to Borel. “Even so, I cannot aid you unless you answer a riddle.” She frowned in thought a moment, then glanced at the Sprite above. “You are quite the flier, I hear, swift beyond many.”
“Yes, I am,” said Flic, thrusting out his wee chest. “There is none among the Sprites who is better.” Then quicksilverswift his face fell in dismay and he groaned. “Oh, my, this is not another riddle concerning my abilities, is it?”
Now Verdandi laughed and said, “Indeed it is, for my elder sister said that she put you in the riddle she posed, and I would do likewise.”
“Your elder sister, you say?” asked Flic. “Oh, no, we’ve not met Urd at all. ’Twas Demoiselle Skuld instead.”
“Skuld is my elder sister,” said Verdandi.
Flic shook his head. “Oh, no, my lady, for, as I said, she is but a demoiselle, whereas you are, um, er”-Flic searched for a polite way to say “older,” and he finally said-“more ripe.”
A smile flashed o’er Verdandi’s face, and she said, “Nevertheless, Skuld is my elder sister, whereas Urd is my younger.”
“Flic,” said Borel, “it is all in how one looks at time. I will explain it later. Yet for now I have a riddle with which to contend.” He turned to Verdandi. “Madame, I must warn you, I know the answer to the riddle of the Sphinx, and the riddles you and your sisters posed to Camille, as well as Lady Skuld’s most recent riddle.”
Verdandi smiled. “Skuld said you were honorable, and I see she is right, but none of those things will I ask you. Instead, here is my riddle: “If Flic were in a Spritely contest
To fly highest of his Kind,
But in some manner unknown to him
He had fallen behind-”
“What? Me fall behind?”
“Quiet, Flic,” ordered Verdandi. “But if with a furious burst of speed
He shot into the sky
What assuredly would happen to him
Should he fly much too high?”
“Oh, oh,” cried Flic, waving his hand, but abruptly fell silent at a glance from Verdandi.
“He would swoon, Lady Lot,” said Borel, touching the brim of his hat in a casual salute to Flic, “from lack of air to breathe.”
Verdandi smiled. “Well and good, Prince Borel.”
“Now the aid, my lady?” said Borel.
Verdandi nodded and said, “There is but barely time to rectify the mistake you made, yet here is what I can say: “The king will offer five different games,
Play the one you played with your dame.
Remember true and remember well
The guiding words of your love
Michelle.
“And this I will tell you for nought: ask for the High Lord’s favorite horse, else you will not see the sands ere the full moon rises, yet beware, for the King Under the Hill is quite tricky, and you must recall what you know.”
Borel nodded and said, “My Lady Lot, I would that you-”
But in that moment the persistent sound of the loom swelled, and then vanished as did Lady Verdandi.
As Borel trotted across another stream, Flic said, “Why must these Fates always say that I fall behind, when anyone knows that would never happen?”
Borel laughed. “Ah, Flic, ever humble, I see. Were I you, I would not question the Sisters Three.”
“You’re not one to talk, my prince,” said Flic. “After all, she said you are the one who ‘would dare flirt with Destiny. ’ ”
Borel laughed and kept running.
After a while, Flic said, “What’s all this about Skuld being the older? Why, anyone can see that she is a demoiselle, whereas Verdandi is a matronly lady.”
Borel said, “Some call them the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone, where Skuld is the Maiden, Verdandi the Mother, and Urd the Crone, for they do resemble those three. And Skuld is the one who sees the future and weaves it into the tapestry of events, yet, even as it leaves her loom, that weaving is not then immutable; for when it gets to Verdandi, whatever changes have been made through the extraordinary deeds of men and others, she alters the pattern set down by Skuld and weaves those changes into the Present; finally, Urd fixes all events forever into the Past. And so, Flic, the one who sees the events of time first is the one considered Eldest, and the one who sees the events last is the one considered Youngest.”
“Ah, then,” said Flic. “Skuld the Maiden sees things first, and so she is eldest of the three; Verdandi the Mother is the middle child; and Urd the Crone is the baby of the family-eh? — for things come to her dead last.”
“Yes,” said Borel, smiling at Flic’s choice of the words “dead last.”
“It still doesn’t make sense, though,” said Flic. “I mean, if that be the case, why wouldn’t Skuld be the Crone and Urd the Maiden?”
“Because, Flic, I think they take on the visage that others give them, and most others think the Past is the oldest, and the Future the youngest.”
“Well, isn’t that true?” asked the Sprite, frowning.
“It’s relative, Flic, and it depends on whether you think of yourself as moving through time, or whether you think of time as moving through you.”
“Huh?” said the Sprite, now confused.
“I believe I’ll let you ponder that, Flic, while I continue to run.”
And Borel did run throughout the rest of the day, and as the sun began to set, they came to another twilight border.
“This is the third and last bound spoken of by King Arle of the Riders Who Cannot Dismount,” said Borel.
Through the marge they pressed, and they came in among grassy downs. Buzzer then alighted on Borel’s tricorn, for with the night drawing nigh, she would sleep.
