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spinner of destiny, taking the raw stuff of chaos and drawing it into the strands that define lives. She's first and foremost a creator, and there's a vitality to her features that speaks of a love for all things. But it doesn't touch the eyes of Fate.
    My grandmother, Lachesis, partakes of some of the same dichotomy. She measures out the lifelines, giving one person a span of a hundred years, and another a mere three and ten. The same basic features that look warm and inviting on Clotho are stern and austere on my grandmother. And again, the eyes are somehow dominant and out of place.
    Only Atropos, the cutter of threads, matches her eyes, and it's a likeness that invariably sends nervous shivers along my spine. There's no hint of human emotion in the eyes of Fate. They are eyes in which you can see the knowledge of every single thing you've ever done or thought of doing. Every secret fear that lurks in the shadows of your heart, every petty jealousy, every noble ambition, becomes just another data point in Fate's calculation of your destiny.
    I was lost in those eyes. Normally when I'm going to deal with one of the Fates, I have a chance to brace myself. This time I met Atropos's gaze all unprepared. It was the most frightening experience of my life. I have no idea how long she held me, pinned like a butterfly in a specimen case, but eventually she chose to blink, releasing me.
    For several minutes, all I could do was breathe. Inhaling and exhaling seemed to take enormous effort. Atropos waited patiently until I had almost recovered.
    Then she spoke again in that clear inhuman voice, "You've grown in stature since the last time I saw you, nephew mine." As she spoke, bubbles rose from her mouth and drifted slowly upward. It was distracting.
    "Thank you," I replied. "I've been making sure to eat my Wheaties." I'm not certain what impels me to make such statements at times like these, but fortunately Atropos is utterly impervious to sarcasm.
    "I'm particularly pleased with how your education has progressed. Lachesis has chosen an excellent course of study for you. With a little judicious pruning you may yet grow into a credit to the tripartite house of Fate."
    "Gosh, with all the possible destinies out there to watch, you've been keeping an eye on mine. I'm touched. I hadn't realized you cared."
    "I don't," she said. "Not in the sense you're implying. I see all of those destinies, Ravirn. Every last one has to pass into my hands eventually, even yours." She made a snipping motion with her fingers and smiled.
    I felt as though someone had just injected about a thousand cc's of liquid helium directly into my spinal column. Time to change the subject and the tone. I bowed deeply from the waist.
    "But I've been forgetting my manners, Madame. I was so startled by my appearance here that I failed in the proper courtesies. Pray forgive my rudeness."
    "Think nothing of it, nephew mine."
    "Thank you, Madame. I assume you had some service you desired of me, or you wouldn't have taken such drastic steps to assure my attendance on your person. Speaking of which, I had no idea that could be done. However did you manage it?"
    "The how really isn't important. Let us go directly to the why."
    "As you would have it, Madame. What may I do for you?"
    "I am discontent."
    "With what?"
    "Chaos. The state of the balance. Fortune and her ally Discord have grown too powerful, my sisters and I too weak."
    "I doubt that there is much that I might do to help you, Madame. Tyche and Eris are far beyond my humble powers," I said, using the goddesses's proper names.
    "I know that, silly boy. But they are not beyond mine, or at least not entirely. I have a few thoughts on how to redress the imbalance. Kalkin!"
    She snapped her fingers and a squat, menacing shape slid into view, her webtroll: mainframe supercomputer one minute, ravening carnivore the next. He was big for the breed, almost four feet in height and more than that in width, with skin the color of