Mr. Leary cracked one eye open at me. “The full name of the eponymous heroine of Charlotte’s Web was Charlotte A. Cavatica, a reference to Araneus cavaticus, also known as the barn spider.”

“Oh.”

He closed both eyes again. “Argiope aurantia’s web has a distinctive jagged vertical lattice pattern in the center, and legend has it that the writing spider weaves the name of a member of its human household into the lattice as a warning of said member’s impending demise.”

I shook my head. “Not that literal, I don’t think.”

“Fascinating how many local superstitions revolve around our own mortality, isn’t it?” he observed. “I’m thinking of writing a book.”

This time I kept silent, hoping to keep him from pursuing that particular tangent.

“Very well.” Mr. Leary sighed. “West African folklore gives us tales of the trickster Anansi, tales which spread throughout the Caribbean in various permutations. I believe the Lakota people have a similar deity whose name escapes me at the moment, while the Navajo creation myth features Spider Grandmother. In Islamic lore, there is a tale of a spider that spun a web across the mouth of a cave to protect the prophet Muhammad. Additionally, I suspect there may be some farther-Eastern spider lore with which I fear I’m unfamiliar. I’d have to consult my library.” His eyes snapped open. “Is any of this of assistance?”

“I suppose we could be talking about a trickster,” I said. “Can you think of any likely reason for one to be in Pemkowet?”

“No.” Picking up his gin rickey, he took a long sip, eyeing me. “But then, there are a good many unlikely creatures in Pemkowet.”

“True.”

Mr. Leary took another drink, easing one of the ice cubes into his mouth, crunching it with relish, and swallowing. “And yet, since you ask, I must confess that I do think it quite unlikely.” He set his glass back down on the coaster with the careful, controlled motions of a practiced drinker. “By and large, it appears that lesser deities retain a measure of cultural affiliation. That being the case, I cannot see why an African or a Lakota trickster god would venture into the domain of a Norse goddess.”

“Yeah, I know,” I agreed. “Pemkowet’s a bit on the homogenous side.”