In truth, I had not known about Wentuchte creating history. She was best known as a weaver who appeared in tales about the former subordinates of Earth. Upon learning that they had been chased away, Geduldh had wept and protested that she would refuse all clothes not made with cloth woven by Wentuchte. Such a master of her craft was the Goddess of Weaving that cloth of the highest quality was praised as being “excellent enough to have come from her hands.”
“As a harmless jest or an act of malice, I do not know, but the thread of his fate was cut from the cloth of history that Wentuchte wove,” Dregarnuhr concluded.
“You speak of Ferdinand’s thread, correct?” Lady Rozemyne asked. Perhaps I was mistaken, but her tone seemed a little confrontational.
The Goddess of Time nodded, a smile playing on her lips. “Indeed. The thread of his fate was severed more than twenty years ago. Under normal circumstances, a thread cut prematurely would simply be bound to another or removed entirely. But Ferdinand has been deeply involved with Yurgenschmidt as of late, has he not? Wentuchte was despondent, convinced that plucking his thread would change the entire course of history.”
One could not deny the enormity of the role Lord Ferdinand had played in shaping recent events. After being rescued in Ahrensbach, he fought against Lanzenave, won a key battle in Gerlach, and joined the fighting at the Royal Academy. He had also attended a meeting with the royal family to select the new Zent, during which, as my father maintained, he had come across as a truly dominant force. At present, he was supporting Alexandria as Lady Rozemyne’s fiancé.
I suspect his influence reaches even further than I realize.
“It really was a shame,” Dregarnuhr continued. “She had seemed so overjoyed at how wonderfully her woven pattern had turned out. So, I searched for a thread of Ferdinand’s color to repair it. And that led me to you, Rozemyne.”
Oh my! Does that not mean they are fated partners recognized even by the Goddess of Time?!
Lady Rozemyne had obstinately denied the visitation of Bluanfah the Goddess of Sprouts, but she had merely lacked self-awareness. She and Lord Ferdinand were destined to be together, their fates intertwined by Liebeskhilfe the Goddess of Binding. I could feel my heart beat quicker, but all thoughts of romance were blown from my mind when the goddess made her next declaration.
“I should like to use Sterrat’s power to fully bind your threads and unify their color. Then, I shall use a portion of your thread to fix his. Do you accept?”
Sterrat was the God of Stars, who acknowledged newlyweds during their Starbind Ceremonies. The insinuation was that Lady Rozemyne and Lord Ferdinand would marry, ensuring that her intact thread of fate could be used to restore his severed one.
In short, Lady Rozemyne is being asked to give up a portion of her life to save not just Lord Ferdinand but the very history of Yurgenschmidt.
Stunned, I turned my attention to my dear friend. A grave request had just been made of her, yet she agreed without a trace of reservation.
“Please wait, Lady Rozemyne,” I said. “Do you understand what it means for your thread to be used for such a purpose? Perhaps there is another solution.” There might not have been much I could do, but Lady Rozemyne must have had some way to bargain with the gods.
“I thank you ever so much for your concern, Lady Hannelore, but Dregarnuhr’s choice of words makes it clear that the gods care not for Lord Ferdinand or the threat to our country’s history. She acts only because Wentuchte is loath to compromise the beauty of her work. They might look like us, but we must understand that the gods operate on logic and principles far removed from our own. There is no place for bargaining or negotiating here.”
The gods existed in a world entirely different from our own. I had understood that much, but still, something had compelled me to think that the words of mere mortals could persuade them. Lady Rozemyne assured me that I was mistaken.
“Furthermore, it is I who will suffer the most if Dregarnuhr changes her mind and advises Wentuchte to give up on the severed thread,” she continued. “I have resolved to protect Lord Ferdinand no matter the cost; surrendering a few years of my life is the least I can do for him. O Dregarnuhr, might I assume that time is of the essence?”
Far from hesitating, Lady Rozemyne was urging the goddess to hurry. It spoke to the strength of her resolve, but seeing her complete lack of deference made my heart leap into my throat.
Dregarnuhr responded with a nod, no more bothered than before. She raised a hand, causing her sleeve to sway, and a wondrously ornate door appeared within the void. It opened into a room where a calm-looking woman sat with thread in hand, her auburn hair bundled loosely behind her head. She resembled the statue of Geduldh from the altars so closely that I could see how she might once have been a subordinate.
“Dregarnuhr. I am most grateful,” said Wentuchte.
“Pray tell, where might Sterrat and Liebeskhilfe be?”
“In the other room. Sterrat is keeping Liebeskhilfe from my loom. Once again, she cannot help but toy with the threads.”
So, all those tales of the Goddess of Binding causing mischief were true...
I was in the presence of two genuine goddesses, yet the awe they inspired was half-hearted at best. Something about them was hard to comprehend. In a sense, it felt as though everything I was experiencing was only a dream.
“My... You truly brought her?” came an exasperated, chastising voice. “I understand why Wentuchte doesn’t want her beautifully woven tapestry to unravel, but using another’s thread to mask an imperfection...?”
Turning to the source of the noise, I saw another legend approaching us: Liebeskhilfe the Goddess of Binding. There was a god accompanying her, clutching her wrist as if to prevent any sudden movements.
Liebeskhilfe exuded the aura of an energetic prankster, exactly as the stories had claimed, but she gazed upon Lady Rozemyne with clouded eyes. “You needn’t play along with Dregarnuhr and Wentuchte—you know that, don’t you? For the sake of two centuries, I could understand, but this is a mere two decades she’s fussing about. Would the pattern not look so much nicer if she just started over?”
“A mere two decades”?!
Clearly, the gods’ perception of time was nothing like our own. Undoing twenty-some years would return Yurgenschmidt to before the days of the civil war, when even the smallest change could prevent Lady Rozemyne or me from ever being born.
Please, O goddess, do not propose something that would wipe out our lives and our history!
I swallowed my scream and maintained a smile. Lady Rozemyne really had meant it when she said the gods existed in a world entirely unlike our own. Perhaps the custom of training nobles to control their emotions had come from Zents not wanting to anger the gods during their exchanges.
“O holy Liebeskhilfe, the beauty of a new tapestry is by no means guaranteed,” Lady Rozemyne stressed. “I would rather repair the severed thread than allow everything we have been through to unravel.”
Liebeskhilfe responded with a curious look. “Truly? You are both content with keeping things as they are? I would cherish this opportunity, were I you. Rarely does one get a chance to try again.”
Did she say “try again”?