Chương 24: Council of Mischief

Raven The problem with existing before the concept of 'before' was that I occasionally forgot mortals invented things like 'appointments' and 'being on time.' I'd been circling the Ozarks for what felt like three minutes but was probably six hours when Grandmother Spider's summons went from a polite suggestion to an annoyed whining. It wasn't a command. She lacked that authority. Instead, it was more like a persistent door-to-door salesman who just wouldn't take the hint and kept on knocking.

The gathering space existed in the cracks between reality and story, where beings like us could meet without our mere presence turning the local physics into abstract art. Coyote was already there. As usual, he was pacing like a caffeinated squirrel. His star-scarred body crackled with energy that made the space buzz. Millennia of existence hadn't taught him to sit still. It probably never would. Some things are eternal. Coyote's inability to sit down and shut up is apparently one of them.

Azeban was perched on a log that may or may not have actually existed. He looked like someone had just told him his favorite fishing spot was getting turned into a parking lot. There was even some useless junk scattered around him. Despite myself, I felt a little sad. The guy was fading away, literally. He was a story people had stopped telling and so was slowly being forgotten. Probably why he wanted a kid, I decided. Poor bastard. Grandmother Spider occupied the center because that's what she did.

It was sort of like how we broke things. She kept the breaking from spreading until nothing remained.

"Raven." Her voice carried weight earned through eons.

"Your perspective is needed." I settled onto moss that remembered being part of the World Tree before trees were a thing.

"Let me guess. The new raccoon."

"Did you watch the summit?" Coyote's energy spiked with delight.

"Bureaucratic warfare as divine intervention. He weaponized paperwork. The fae have been trying to seduce mortals for centuries and he's like 'have you tried a fertility clinic?' I'm in love." I considered rolling my eyes, but decided against it. After all, he was just acting like any normal parent oohing and gooing over their baby. Even if the baby in question was a reincarnated old man in a raccoon body.

"He's moving too fast," Azeban said quietly.

"Power without context. That's how…" He stopped, but we all still heard what he left unsaid. That's how Anansi disappeared. The temperature dropped in ways that had nothing to do with actual temperature.

"Which is why I guided him first," Grandmother Spider said, using that tone mothers employed when their kids were about to do something spectacularly stupid.

"Before you three decided to load him with chaos."

"Hey, the chaos berries were educational," Coyote protested.

"He needed options. Every self respecting trickster has the ability to turn into other animals and confuse the shit out of everyone."

"Choice requires wisdom to be meaningful rather than merely destructive," Grandmother Spider said.

"He has my blessing now which will hopefully provide guidance toward harmony when chaos becomes too seductive." I watched them dance around the real issue and absently started taking some of the junk from underneath the old raccoon. Coyote was arguing for creative destruction. Azeban was counseling for caution. Grandmother Spider was trying to prevent a repeat catastrophe. None of them want to say it out loud, I realized. Fine. I'll be the asshole.

"The raccoon reminds me of Anansi," I said flatly.

"Before the stories ate him. He has the same practical approach. He also has the same instinct to solve rather than complicate. And he probably has the same trajectory toward spectacular disaster." I waited a moment, allowing my words to sink in. Then I threw the next wrench in gears, "And he's already diminished himself by giving some of his divinity away." Unfortunately, no one was surprised, not even the weak, little raccoon. Apparently, the others had already noticed, but no one wanted to comment on it.

I bet Nanabozho would if he was here, I thought as the silence continued. I wonder if he'll be able to clean up the… situation I left quickly enough to join us. I'd just said the thing everyone was thinking but nobody wanted to acknowledge. I was almost disappointed enough to let slip some more information. Then I realized it wasn't quite time to release that 'nugget of knowledge.' Grandmother Spider's expression didn't change.

"Anansi helped people once. In the beginning. Before he learned stories could be owned. Before he realized controlling the narrative meant controlling reality itself. And as for the loss of divinity, at least he did it to help others."

"The kid's different," Coyote insisted.

"He gave away power and solutions. For free. Anansi would've demanded payment, worship, subscription fees…" I was going to take more of the trinkets from around Azeban when I realized more of his junk had gone missing. It was more than I was responsible for. I gave Coyote a suspicious glance, but then shrugged.

"Anansi did that too," Azeban interrupted softly.

"At first. Before he understood what payment could buy." And there it is. The fear that keeps Grandmother Spider awake at night. Well, at least she still has her golden bunny.

"Look, I like the new raccoon," I said, because someone needed to be honest.

"He's got more genuine talent than any new trickster I've seen in millennia. He's a week old and has accidentally started a religion. That's impressive or concerning, depending who you ask." Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Both," Grandmother Spider said.

"It's both." She then glared at Coyote and me.

"Nanabozho has had to clean up so many of both of your messes that he rarely has time to visit me. If the newest member of our family turns out like you two, I'll never see my bouncing little boy." Coyote and I glanced at each other and rolled our eyes. It was a rare moment of agreement. Sickening. Not wanting to waste any more time getting dissed, I changed the subject back to the new raccoon and Anansi.

"The pattern matches," I continued, because apparently I was committed to being the harbinger of doom today.

"A helpful trickster emerges. He solves problems and gains followers. People start believing in the stories about him. Eventually he can't exist outside the narrative he's built. More than likely, it won't be long before there's nothing left of the person he used to be." I let that sink it. Being a god, even a weak one, came with complications. People's beliefs are not only our power, but also our shackles. For example, even though Loki technically wasn't really one of us, he did hold an honorary position.

However, recently someone had played around with his mythology. With the recent changes to how people viewed him, Loki was in a state of flux. It was a lot like when the skygod changed names from Zeus to Jupiter. Because of this, Loki was pretty much out of the picture until things resolved themselves. Realizing I was getting distracted, I quickly added, "Does that sound familiar?"

"I've invited Anansi back," Grandmother Spider said quietly.

"Multiple times, but he doesn't respond. I'm not even sure he can respond. He's become the Web itself."

"So why are we doing this again?" Coyote's energy crackled sharply.

"If the pattern's inevitable, why not just…" He made a throat-cutting gesture.

"Mercy before the fall?"

"Because I'm not killing one of us based on prophecy and paranoia," Grandmother Spider said firmly.

"Anansi had no warning. No guidance. Abe has advantages Anansi lacked."

"Such as?" I genuinely wanted to know.

"He's been warned. His prepper mentality makes him suspicious of anything too good. And he's been given wisdom before his power becomes overwhelming."

"Plus he's already died once," Coyote added.

"Most tricksters don't get the preview of consequences. That's gotta count for something."

"Does it?" I tilted my head.

"Abe's already solving decades-old problems in single evenings. The werewolves call him 'Great Spirit.' The fae want to build him shrines. How long before he starts believing he deserves the worship?" Nobody answered. During the silence, I swiped the last trinkets out from under Azeban's feet. After that, I continued, "Pierre's spreading stories about the bureaucratic revolution. That's making Abe sound like a messiah who'll reform the government from within. Half the Moon-Eyed People think he's their salvation.

The druids are organizing around his suggestions like scripture." Grandmother Spider sighed, then muttered, "And that deer…," while shaking her head.

"Worship," Azeban whispered.

"That's always where it goes wrong."

"So we watch," Coyote said, but doubt flickered across his form. Waiting and watching were not his forte.

"So we only intervene if he starts believing his own press?"

"And if intervention fails?" I asked.

"Not all of us respond well to being told we're walking toward destruction. Anansi certainly didn't." Grandmother Spider met my eyes, ancient to ancient.

"Then we do what must be done. Quickly. Before the stories take root so deeply that removing them means removing everything. Especially with what will be arriving soon." She'd actually do it. Kill him to prevent another Anansi. Especially if he endangers the mortals even more than they already are. The realization should have shocked me. It didn't. Grandmother Spider had always been willing to make terrible choices to prevent worse outcomes.

Which is one reason I answered her call, I added, giving myself a mental pat on my proverbial back.

"The kid's practical," Coyote argued, energy flickering with hope or denial.

"He'll listen. He's not driven by ego, like some people I know," he said while looking at me. Pot. Kettle. Black. I thought. Then I smiled when Azeban leaned over as if to pick up one of his trinkets from the ground only to discover that all his junk was gone. The smile broadened when he glared at Coyote and me. He looked like a baby whose candy had just been stolen. I waited to see if he would complain to Grandmother Spider. After he didn't complain, I continued on, a little disappointed.

"Yet, power changes everyone. Always. The question isn't whether it will change him. The question is whether the change will be survivable."

"Which brings us to the decision," Grandmother Spider said.

"Abe's thread is strong but complex. Too many influences are pulling in different directions. This might tear him apart rather than strengthen him. So we wait. Watch. We'll see which influences dominate before adding more variables." She paused, and then glared at Coyote and me.

"Now, give Azeban back his trinkets," she demanded.

"And don't do anything that will cause any further changes in the newest member of our family."

"Patience," Coyote spat the word like a curse. I wasn't sure whether it was because she was telling him to not do something or because he was having to return the items.

"Fine. We wait. But I'm watching. We all are." Neither of us said anything for a moment, but then under Grandmother Spider's glare, we threw back the junk we had found, at least most of it anyways.

"Of course we are," I said, standing, annoyed at having to return the items. Now I was more determined than ever to give the new little raccoon a gift, just to see what happens. I just had to decide what I could give him that would cause the most interesting result. While I was considering my options, I absently added, "The raccoon thinks he's solving problems and building communities. He has no idea he's speed-running Anansi's greatest hits." The silence tasted of failure and ash.

I knew I shouldn't be antagonizing her, but having to return the trash really annoyed me.

"I lost one son to the stories," Grandmother Spider said quietly.

"I will not lose another. When the warnings fail, if they fail, one of us intervenes. Permanently if necessary."

"Not me," Coyote said immediately.

"I'm chaos, not an executioner."

"I lack the strength," Azeban added.

"I'm fading already." They both looked at me. Of course. The one already wearing the raccoon's corpse like a borrowed suit.

"If it comes to that," I said slowly, "I'll do what's necessary. But I'm exhausting every other option first. Anansi was my friend before he became a cautionary tale. I'd rather not have another friend dissolve into cosmic spaghetti, thanks."

"Don't wait too long," Grandmother Spider warned.

"The window between 'too soon' and 'too late' closes faster than mortals can comprehend." I spread my wings and took off, watching as the meeting-space dissolved. The raccoon's either going to revolutionize how tricksters interact with reality, or burn so spectacularly the stories will warn against his hubris for eons. He'd been born at a turning point. Mana had been low when my stories solidified. The same was true for the others. The new raccoon, though, was different.

I flew between the worlds until I came out over the Ozarks. At the same time, I noticed the rabbit. Nanabozho was frantically hopping through the space between worlds toward our meeting spot. Guess he showed up too late, I thought, amused. Don't worry though, I'm about to give you even more work to clean up after. I looked down at the newest god of chaos, who was apparently testing his newfound wisdom on household objects, completely unaware we'd just discussed whether he needed to die.

I hope you prove us wrong, little trickster. I hope you break the pattern. Because I really don't want to kill you. Then again, it will be so fun to see how you react to the gift I am about to give you.