The Scholar and the Sphinx

Prologue

Prologue

This is a mess. This is a horrid, horrid mess.

Panicking isn’t going to fix this. Keep spinning.

This is irreparable! The blasted, evil, selfish, murderous—

Calm yourself. You don’t see our third mind getting into a tither, do you? This can be repaired. It will take time, but time is all we have, isn’t it?

Our third mind never gets into a tither, because it came to terms eons ago that we were all going to perish. You don’t care because all you think about is what’s already happened. I worry about what’s happening now, and this…this is disastrous! What if the entire Curtain unravels? What if we have everything from our world spilling into the other, or vice versa? Humans finding out there are minotaurs, dragons, sea nymphs, everything they’ve believed to be in their imaginations alone. What if—

If all that were going to happen, I’m sure our third mind would know. And therefore, it would be pointless to even be fixing the Curtain, knowing if our efforts were all going to be for naught. But look, she keeps on weaving as well. So hush up.

It’s all because of that boy—

The boy had nothing to do with this. It was Lord Nyx’s doing and you know it.

Lord Nyx just wanted the wolf. It’s because he wanted to make sure that boy didn’t interfere that Nyx started shredding the Curtain, looking for the boy’s threads. What does a mortal have business doing meddling in the Night God’s affairs? Causing trouble, that’s what. Trouble for all of us.

But you know what our brother wants the wolf for. Do you think the ability to devour all the worlds is somehow less malevolent than tearing up some of the Curtain? We can mend the Curtain. It’s the mending of devoured worlds that is out of our capability.

Nyx just wants the power to do so. Destroying worlds would also destroy the followers he wants. As long as everyone pledges their faith to Nyx, he won’t actually use Fenrir’s power.

And you know this, how? You’re the second mind, not the third.

Look at this! This was one of my favorite tapestries in the Curtain. All frayed around the edges. It’s hers, you know.

I know. I helped make that too.

Poor, poor girl. So much loss and suffering over the millennia. Sphinxes have never had it easy. But it’s her fault too. She brought the boy into our world, all because of some silly prophecy that the old Nyx told her.

It was more than just for that.

What, because she was fond of him? Please, just a whim. She’s been in love before.

Your sight of the past is skewed by the present. I remember all her “loves.” Not like this one.

So what? Bringing him through the Curtain, tricking him into seeking out the singing stone to free her from Madam Nyx’s shade, giving him that b****y dagger—that dagger! How does one have a dagger forged from the fang of the Great Wolf Fenrir for hundreds of years and not know what it is? Wait, where is that now? And the sword? I don’t see those threads anywhere.

They were tied to the boy’s threads. I assume Lord Nyx hung on to those.

Marvelous. Nyx has the Sword of Order, the Fang of Fenrir, and Fenrir himself. All those threads, missing. How are we going to repair the Curtain without them?

Huh. I don’t remember these pieces being sewn together.

Which ones?

The witch, the shapeshifter and the Master Huntsman. Did you do that?

That sort of…happened.

See, your panic is causing you to weave haphazardly. Focus. Maybe, maybe we can use this part as an anchor. Yes, this is a good solid tapestry. We can stitch other pieces around it and expand out from here.

Too bad we don’t have Baba Yaga here. We could use a fourth set of hands.

The witch has her tasks to finish. She’ll be more useful to the Huntsman and the shapeshifter.

What of the Teumessian? What of his threads?

He gave up the value of his threads when he pledged himself to Madness. Those threads burn my fingers, and they always find a way of unraveling and reweaving themselves into some morbid design. Leave it for now. His threads will spring up like weeds, I assure you.

This is so confusing. I used to know exactly where every thread went! Now there are hanging strands, whole pieces dangling, mortal and immortal tendrils braided together when they should be separated…the only exception being Hypnos, who should be tied to every human’s sleep patterns but now he’s not tied to a single one! One loose thread undoes the whole thing. We’ll never fix this!

Please, please quiet yourself. I don’t know how you can be this whiny when we’re all of the same mind. It’s very distracting.

Wait, what’s that?

What’s what?

Are those… our threads?

They’re all our threads.

No, no, I mean…OUR threads? The ones we put away in the sewing box?

No, that can’t possibly be…oh my…I…I haven’t seen those in…I forgot what colors they even were.

Did you put those there?

Of course not. And by the shock in your tone, I assume you didn’t either.

I put those there.

…

Gracious, she said something.

Why did you put our threads in there? We agreed, we don’t put our threads into the Curtain.

We are going to have a new spinner.

What? When? Who?

No one touches the Curtain but us! Well, us and Baba, of course. Who are you speaking of?

All in due course.

You need to stop it with all the blasted ambiguity—

He will come. He doesn’t exist yet.

That’s helpful.

Nyx may have burned his tapestry, but veins of his threads still reside in the tapestries of others. A shard of his soul was claimed by another. Whoever owns his soul, owns his fate. As long as his fate is bound to another’s, he can exist again. He can be woven again.

Are you taking about…?

Oh dear. Well, better start tidying up the place. We haven’t had a human here since…when was the last time we had one here?

Never.

Oh. Well, then, I hope he likes soup. I haven’t had a chance to go shopping yet.