Eshu sat at the crossroads, spinning a kola nut on his finger. He wore a hat that was red on one side and black on the other, just to cause arguments.
Freya approached in her chariot drawn by two massive gray cats. She wore the Brísingamen, a necklace of gold that shone like a captured star.
"Lovely cats," Eshu grinned. "Are they going forward or backward? It's hard to tell from here."
He snapped his fingers. Crossroads Dominion. suddenly, the road Freya was on split into twelve different paths, each leading off a cliff or into a swamp.
The Weaver and the Trickster
Freya didn't pull the reins. She simply laughed. The sound was like honey and iron.
"You play with lines," she said. "I weave the cloth."
She raised her hand, fingers moving in the complex patterns of Seiðr. The twelve paths shimmered and snapped back into one straight road. She drove her chariot right up to the trickster.
Eshu looked impressed. "Okay, you have eyes. But can you speak?"
He used Tongue-Twist. He tried to steal her voice, to make her commands come out as gibberish.
Freya opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words, a golden light spilled out. The light of Brísingamen. It wasn't a spell; it was pure, overwhelmed desire.
Eshu blinked. For a second, he forgot the prank. He forgot the clever riddle he had prepared. He just wanted to look at the necklace.
The Cost of Distraction
That second was enough.
Freya stepped from the chariot. She didn't strike him with a sword. She transformed.
Fjaðrhamr. She became a falcon, faster than a blink. She swooped down, snatching Eshu’s beloved cap from his head and landing on a high branch.
Eshu patted his bald head, shocked. He looked up at the goddess-bird.
"Give it back!" he demanded.
"A trade," Freya chirped. "You clear the road for my travelers, and I return your hat."
Eshu sighed, knowing he'd been outplayed. "Fine. But I'm telling everyone the cats were actually rats."
Freya dropped the hat. "Fair enough."