Chương 22: The Weaver's Tale

My heart was hammering against my ribs. This was the thing I'd been sensing for days, and now I was stuck in her web like a fly.

"So," I managed, trying not to sound like I was about to piss myself, "you're the mysterious stalker. Got a name, or should I just call you Charlotte?" She laughed, and it sounded like someone had turned wind chimes into music.

"I am Grandmother Spider, little trickster. I have been watching you."

"Yeah, I figured that out. The whole lurking thing was a dead giveaway." My brain was already filing this under 'shit I am definitely not equipped to handle,' but my mouth just kept going.

"You show no fear," she said as she got closer.

"Interesting."

"Oh, I'm terrified. But panic doesn't really help when you're already screwed. Figure I might as well go down talking." I mean, if she wanted me dead, I'd probably be liquefied by now. This felt more like some kind of interview. A really fucked up interview. All eight of her eyes were staring at me, and it was making my fur do that standing-up thing.

"You didn't listen to your guardian and explored despite knowing 'something' was out there." I wasn't sure whether she was complimenting my bravery or commenting on my stupidity. If I had to choose though, I was leaning more toward 'being an idiot.'

"She's off doing networking stuff. Helping all those supernatural communities get their shit together. Seemed like a good idea. It's not like she would have been any help against you."

"So, you ventured out alone. Knowing you were being watched." She sounded like an annoyed teacher dealing with an especially dense student.

"Hiding in the house wasn't going to work if you really wanted to find me, right?" Plus, I was going completely stir-crazy. Three days of conspiracy theory videos and I was ready to believe anything. I did have to admit, maybe that wasn't the best reason to be gallivanting about. She started to circle around me. The web kept adjusting to keep me at just the right height. It was almost as if she'd done this before.

"You interest me, little inheritor. Tell me, what do you know of the tricksters who came before you?"

"Not much. Just that Azeban and Coyote said something about me being a successor." I still didn't understand what that had really been about. A godly custody battle? An inheritance fight? Either way, they didn't exactly clear things up.

"And what did they teach you?" She was definitely giving off those teacher vibes. Unfortunately, she sounded like one of those disciplinarians instead of the Mary Poppins type. Not wanting to annoy her, I quickly replied, "That words have magic and that chaos brings change…" I trailed off as I realized how pitiful an answer it was.

"Wise teachers," she said as if in exasperation. Apparently, the teacher wasn't happy that the troublemaking students were teaching the remedial student. She then settled down in front of me while sighing. Why didn't they warn me about a giant spider that likes giving pop quizzes? I wondered. That seems important enough to share.

"Chaos brings change," she went on.

"But without wisdom, chaos just destroys everything. Tricksters can build up the world or tear it down. The difference is knowing when to stop." I thought about the recent supernatural summit. I'd somehow become everyone's go-to problem solver just by suggesting they do something different.

"So, you're here to give me the 'With great power comes great responsibility' speech?"

"I am here to see if you're worth guiding. Or if you'll go the way of my lost son." I don't know how she did it, but she actually looked sad.

"Lost son?" That doesn't sound good, I thought. Her body slumped and for a moment she looked less like some nightmare and more like... a mom who'd lost her kid.

"Anansi. The most gifted storyteller I ever raised. He knew that he could control reality by shaping how people think and remember. Stories shape reality, and by owning those stories, he could reshape the world itself." She paused before continuing, "But his greed and vanity made him overreach. In his bid for power, he became the story. He became one with the threads of life and fate." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper.

"Forever weaving, forever trapped in the web of his own making." For some reason, that reminded me of that last season of Loki. The guy sitting on a throne in the multiverse, holding all the timelines together by himself. Or was that from the previous season, I wondered.

"So, you watch other tricksters and make sure they don't end up like him," I said quietly.

"I offer guidance to those who'll take it. Most don't. They think my help is just another leash." There was a tinge of anger in her voice, but mostly sadness. The web loosened up a bit.

"You've been helping people," she continued.

"Solving problems with common sense instead of showing off. That's good."

"I just hate watching people be miserable when the fix is obvious." I shrugged. Also, watching all those supernatural types sit around bitching about fixable problems was driving me nuts.

"Yes. That's wisdom. But power grows, little trickster. Temptation grows with it. Using your gifts for yourself instead of others. That comes easier as you get stronger." Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Although she was probably right, I just didn't see how what she was saying applied to me. I was a talking raccoon. I wasn't a god. I'd even researched Azeban. From what I could see, he didn't have any real powers.

Being his heir didn't seem particularly impressive. As for Coyote, he was probably just screwing with me. However, to be polite, I asked, "So what's the offer? You want to be my life coach?" She laughed, warmer this time.

"Guidance. A connection. Not to control you, but to remind you what matters when the power starts talking louder than your conscience." Ahh, a babysitter. Great. But honestly? The idea wasn't terrible. I'd been making things up as I went, and having someone with experience watching my back might keep me from accidentally starting World War Supernatural.

"What would that look like?" I asked.

"Because I'm not great with bosses. I had enough of that shit when I was human."

"I watch. Sometimes I give advice. I warn you if you're heading down a dark path." Her eyes got that sad look again.

"I failed my son. I won't make that mistake twice." So she's trying to save me to make up for losing him. Got it.

"And if I say no?"

"Then you say no," she said, shrugging.

"Love isn't a chain, little one. Just a thread." Huh. That's actually... not threatening at all. She was just offering help, no strings attached. Which made her either totally trustworthy or the best con artist in the universe. I started to wonder if maybe she was a trickster spirit after all. The web just dissolved around me while I was considering this. I dropped to the ground. However, I didn't run. I doubt it would help and it might just annoy her.

"Alright," I said, giving her a nod.

"I'm in. Thanks." It's not like I have much choice. It was sort of like the boss saying, "You're fine working overtime today, right?" I mean, what's the worst that could happen? Don't answer that, I quickly amended the thought. Her face did something that might have been a smile. On a giant spider, it was kind of disturbing.

"Good. But first, let me tell you a story." I settled down, wrapping my tail around my paws.

"I'm listening." Listening to a story instead of being eaten sounded like a bargain to me. For some reason, I had a flashback to my childhood when my father would tell me stories. I remembered one, "Yep, we didn't have weapons back when I was a kid. We had to stare down those dinosaurs. You know what? It was so hot they fell over already cooked. Yep, that's how we made it through the ice age." Hopefully, this story would be more… real.

Grandmother Spider started her story, "Long ago, when the world was still figuring itself out, I was given the task of weaving the web of life." Her hands moved while she talked, drawing silver patterns in the air.

"Not just the physical stuff. The connections between stories, meanings. All the threads that keep everything from falling apart." The silver trails turned into an actual web between her fingers. It sounded like she was one of the bigwigs in the grand design. Definitely not someone I wanted to annoy. Still, at least it was more believable than my father's stories.

"I helped build the world. I connected earth to sky, water to fire, life to death. When darkness tried to eat everything, I brought light back in a clay pot." She paused.

"Some say I stole the sun, but that's not true. I rescued it," she said firmly.

"There's a big difference between taking what's not yours and getting back what belongs to everyone. Most tricksters never learn that." Yep, that definitely sounds like a threat, or at least a warning, I thought. Note taken. Rescue good, theft bad. The web in her hands was pulsing with soft light. I could see how every thread connected to every other thread. It made my head hurt trying to follow it all.

"I taught people to weave. Not just cloth, but harmony. I taught them how to tie communities together and how to create beauty from chaos." She got that faraway look. After a moment, she continued, "I watched my teachings spread. I watched tricksters emerge who could change reality with words." Her expression grew complicated, pride mixed with concern. Being the smart guy I was, I kept my mouth shut. I'd learned long ago not to ask women questions when they were already in a bad mood.

"Coyote is powerful, almost as powerful as the creator gods. He has power over chaos, entropy, and transformation. He accomplished many great feats, but he also did many terrible things. He is wild, impulsive, and self-sabotaging, which often leads to his death. However, because he created death, it holds no sway over him. He continually dies, only to be reborn." At that moment, Grandmother Spider paused to gather her thoughts. In that moment of silence, I realized Coyote was much more powerful than I'd realized.

Also, he reminded me of Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. Finally, Grandmother Spider began talking again, which distracted me from that line of thought.

"Then there is Raven. He is not as wild as Coyote, nor as calculating as Anansi was, but he is just as dangerous. He brings light to the world, yes, but only after stealing it. Raven creates not by weaving or building, but by taking and transforming. Raven is selfish, and does what he wants. Somehow, though, even when he doesn't mean to help, the world ends up better than it was before." While I appreciated the information, the zoomies were still poking me in the back, urging me to do something.

I tried to ignore the feeling and concentrate on what she was saying. Her expression softened.

"And then there is Nanabozho. My heart-child, the one who learned wisdom without needing to fall first. Rabbit-swift and clever, but with a hero's heart." A genuine smile crossed her features.

"While the others create chaos, Nanabozho tries to heal it. While they break things, he mends them. He spends half his time cleaning up after Coyote's messes and the other half trying to talk Raven out of increasingly elaborate theft schemes." I couldn't help but smile at that image. At least one of them isn't a complete disaster. I also found something interesting about what she'd said and not said. She'd described Coyote, Raven, and Nanabozho in the present tense. But Anansi, she spoke of in the past.

Still, she hadn't mentioned Azeban.

"Uh, what about Azeban?" I asked. Since I was supposedly his inheritor, I was curious.

"Azeban? Pfft. That little raccoon thinks he's clever because he can steal a fish or trick a bear. He's not dangerous like Coyote, nor cunning like Raven. He doesn't reshape the world or steal the sun. But he does make the children laugh. He teaches them to be watchful, to question pride, to laugh at their own foolishness. That has its place." I was a little confused. If Azeban isn't powerful, why is she worried about me being his heir?

As if sensing my question, Grandmother Spider said, "You might be Azeban's heir, child, but your thread hums with more than just mischief." She tilted her many-eyed gaze toward me, voice soft now, curious, like she was still deciding what kind of knot I might become in her web.

"Coyote has touched you. In fact, you could even say that he has transformed you by claiming you. And that... complicates things." After a pause, while she let that thought sink in, she said, "Azeban teaches laughter, but laughter can be a blade. When sharpened by chaos, it cuts deeper than you think. That is why we watch you." While I was tempted to ask who 'we' was, I kept silent. Unlike the saying, "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me," I knew words could destroy people.

"One trickster leaves a mess. Two make a pattern. But three…" She let the silence hang like a spider on a single, perfect thread.

"Three might change the weave." Her eyes narrowed, not unkindly, but not gently either.

"So, little raccoon... what will you do with the thread you've been given?"