"Yes."
"And didn't you tell me that this Alviss had sent you here as his
ambassador to get Thrud?"
"Y-yes."
"Well, then, you're an American ambassador," Loki said with finality.
"Tell Thor that you want to see him about presiding at a dedication
ceremony for this day. It's been so long since a mortal asked Thor
to preside at anything he's bound to fall for it. That will get you
invited to Belskirnir."
"I guess I could do that," Kevan said doubtfully. "But getting out will
be harder than getting in, won't it?"
"Nothing to it," said Loki with confidence. "Do you know any good
riddles?"
"Riddles?" repeated the amazed Kevan. "You mean things like--like 'What
flies forever and rests never?'"
"The wind," Loki said promptly. "That's the general idea, although
you'll need to get newer ones than that. The really old ones Thor will
know. Can you manage some more modern ones?"
"I'll try," Kevan said. He remembered that his mother had often read
riddles to him as a child and he thought he could recall some of them.
"About three good riddles should be about right. When you get to
Belskirnir, the first thing you'd better do is tip off Thrud why you're
there. Then you challenge Thor to guess your three riddles. If he
fails--and he will if you use good ones for nobody ever accused Thor of
being bright--then he lets you take Thrud away."
"That sounds all right, except for one thing. What if Thor doesn't
accept the challenge?"
"I'm coming to that," Loki said thoughtfully. "At the same time you
send the message to Thor, you send one to my father."
"Your father?" Kevan asked, wishing he could remember more of the old
legends. He resolved to brush up on them if he kept this job.
"Odin," Loki explained. "He's Thor's father too and he's still the
head of the family. The old man is a stickler for convention, so you
merely send him a message asking to call on him first before visiting
Thor. Better not mention that you've already met me. The old man will
be pleased that a mortal recognizes that he's still the head of the
house. While you're talking to him, casually mention that you're going
to challenge Thor to three new riddles. Be sure to stress the _new_."
Kevan nodded. He could see little sense in any of this, but was willing
to grant that this was possibly because he was a stranger in the land.
"My father," continued Loki, "is a real pig for knowledge. He'll try to
pump you for the answers to the riddles. If you refuse then he'll show
up at Belskirnir and he'll make Thor accept the challenge, just so he
can hear the answers."
"You're sure?" Kevan asked.
"Positive. The old man will go through anything just to learn something
new. He once gave up one of his eyes just for one drink from Mimir's
well of knowledge. Another time, he hung in a trance from Yggdrasil,
with his head in Niflheim, for nine days in order to learn to write
runes. You can't miss if you do as I tell you."
* * * * *
Some of Loki's confidence surged through Kevan. "This is mighty nice of
you, Mr. Loki," he said. "Isn't there something I can do to repay you?"
"I guess not," Loki said sadly, "There is only one way in which these
chains can be broken and I doubt if you could manage it by yourself.
It's really not too bad--although I do get rather bored at times
just standing here and seeing the same things all the time. It was a
pleasure to talk with you."
"Wait a minute," Kevan cried. "I think I have an idea. I'll be right
back." He ran around the side of the hill. As soon as he was out of
sight and hearing, he stopped. He put his mouth close to his lapel and
called: "Brian Shanachie."
"Midgard to Asgard, over," said the voice from above his head. The tone
and the words seemed to indicate that Brian Shanachie was in good humor.
"I believe," Kevan said carefully, "that there may be a good chance
of my being able to get Thrud for Alviss. I've just met my first
inhabitant of Asgard and he's been very helpful. In fact, I'd like to
repay him in some way, which is why I called."
"A friend at court, eh?" said the voice. "Who did you meet?"
"He said his name is Loki."
"Loki?" said the voice. "Isn't he in durance vile, or some such thing?"
"He's chained in a cave, if that's what you mean," Kevan said. "I can't
imagine why they would treat him like that. He seems very nice."
"What did he tell you about himself?"
"Nothing. I did gather from some reference he made to his wife that
he's the god of fire."
"That's right," said the voice. "Also god of mischief and evil. You
understand, my boy, we make a practice of not interfering with an
agent in the field, but if I were you I'd go rather easy on making
gifts to Loki. No files baked in a cake, or that sort of thing. If Loki
ever breaks loose from his chains, it means the end of the world."
"I find it very difficult to believe that Loki is evil in any way,"
Kevan said with dignity. "However, I was merely thinking of providing
him with some entertainment. He told me that he gets bored just
standing there, always with the same view."
"Well--do whatever you think best. What sort of a gift did you have in
mind? Dancing girls?"
"No," Kevan said indignantly. "I don't think his wife would approve and
I doubt if we could morally justify such a gift. But didn't you mention
that you had once made a gift of a radio to one of the gnomes?"
"That's right."
"I was wondering how such things would work here," Kevan said. "After
all, they are electrically powered and I doubt if they have many modern
conveniences here."
"No problem at all," the voice said cheerfully. "Electrical objects
become so charged during teleportation that they run for a long time.
Did you want to give Loki a radio?"
"No, I was thinking of a television set. Perhaps one with a twenty-four
inch screen. Now, after your information, I'm even more sure that this
will make a superb gift for him. If you are correct in saying that he's
the god of the evil, some good wholesome entertainment may be good for
him. Television, you know, is an excellent way of keeping the children
off the streets and--"
"Spare me the commercials," snapped the voice. "You want it right
there?"
"No, wait until I get back to the cave. You might also include a remote
control tuning device. I imagine he might find it difficult to handle
the controls otherwise."
Kevan hurried back to the cave, whereupon Loki stopped trying to guess
how full the cup was that Signe held and watched him with interest.
Kevan stood at a spot where he judged that Loki could get the best view
and once more spoke into the flower in his lapel.
"Okay, send it along," he said.
* * * * *
Once more the air seemed to crackle around him and there was a solid
thump as the television set came to rest only a few inches from Kevan's
foot.
"In the name of Garm, what is that?" demanded Loki.
"A television set," Kevan said. "I think you will find that it will do
much to relieve your boredom." He bent over and turned on the switch
and was pleasantly surprised to see the screen light up. He fiddled
around with the controls until he got a station tuned. It was a news
broadcast, which normally would have interested him, but he was more
curious to see Loki's reaction. The god was staring at the screen
with bulging eyes. Satisfied, Kevan turned the volume down so that he
wouldn't have to compete with the announcer's voice.
"That," he said, "happens to be what we call a news broadcast. That
is, the man is telling what is actually happening in the world of the
mortals. But you will find other things that are more amusing. In fact,
there are a few comedians you might find highly entertaining--I imagine
that you are of a sufficiently ancient period to find their jokes new."
Kevan went on to explain to the god how the remote control device could
be used to change stations and to raise or lower the volume. A look of
speculation crept into Loki's face as the explanation was being given.
"This is really very nice of you," he said when Kevan had finished. "I
wonder if I might impose on you for another favor?"
"Of course," Kevan said promptly.
"I have three children," Loki said, "two boys and a girl. Would it be
possible to get such a machine for each of them? I'm sure they would
enjoy it."
Kevan nodded. "Television is wonderful for children," he said. "I
understand they have some very delightful children's programs on, too.
Do you think table models might do for them?"
"Anything," Loki said.
"And where would you like them delivered?" Kevan asked. "I could go to
wherever they live, so the sets would be delivered there."
"No, I wouldn't think of putting you out. Right here will be fine. I'm
sure we can arrange for them to be picked up."
Kevan nodded again and bent his head to speak into the metal flower.
"Three more television sets," he ordered. "Table models, if you don't
mind."
He thought he heard a grumbling grunt from the air above his head, but
a moment later three small television sets were dumped on the ground
beside the larger one.
V
After accepting Loki's profuse thanks, Kevan MacGreene went on his
way, feeling virtuous for having performed such a good deed. It did
occur to him that he should have recommended a few good programs for
Loki, perhaps one or two of a spiritual nature, but he decided against
turning back to correct it. There was a possibility that a god might
resent being instructed by a mere mortal.
Kevan walked rapidly along the broad path he discovered and it
wasn't long before he arrived at what Loki had called the first
station--although in reality it was little more than a thatched hut.
Kevan entered and soon composed the two messages which he wanted to
send to Thor and Odin. He handed them over to the old man who ran the
station and almost immediately two ravens darted from the hut. Kevan
retired to a corner to await their return, but much to his surprise he
had barely seated himself when the ravens were back.
Impressed by the service, Kevan toyed with the idea of learning
more about the method, thinking that it might be knowledge he could
take back and sell for a reasonable price to the various telegraph
companies. But he dismissed this as probably being unfair to Brian
Shanachie.
While the answers were brief and to the point, it seemed that both
Odin and Thor would be happy to see the mortal ambassador. After
some dickering with the old man who ran the ravengraph agency, which
involved handing over his wristwatch, Kevan received a horse and
instructions on how to reach Odin's local castle. As he rode off, the
old man was holding the watch to his ear and nodding in time to the
rhythmic ticking.
It was a pleasant ride over the rolling hills of Asgard, and Kevan soon
arrived at the huge, sprawling castle. The guards evidently expected
him, for he was immediately shown into the throne room of the chief of
the gods.
Odin, bald-headed and gray-bearded, slouched on his throne and regarded
his visitor with interest. It was a mutual attitude, with Kevan finally
deciding that Odin must be something of a local character. There were
two ravens seated on his shoulders and they seemed to be constantly
whispering in his ears. On either side of the throne a gigantic wolf
was crouched. Except for his costume, Odin reminded Kevan of an aging
Hollywood producer ready to have his picture taken for the press. But,
of course, he permitted none of this disrespect to show in his manner.
Kevan delivered a carefully-rehearsed speech, in which he praised
Odin's great knowledge, then fell silent.
Odin nodded, as though agreeing with all the points made. "And what are
your plans now, mortal?" he asked.
"I thought of visiting Thor," Kevan said.
"My son?" the old god asked, blinking in astonishment. "Why should you
visit him? You seem interested in knowledge. I'm afraid you'll find
my son rather dull company. Or were you planning to ask for a thunder
license?"
"I want to challenge him to answer three riddles," Kevan said. "If he
fails to answer them, then I will claim his daughter, Thrud."
"Thrud, eh?" Odin said. A crafty look came into his eyes. "If it's only
a matter of a woman, why not stay here and expound your riddles. I'll
let you have one of the Valkyries. It'll be a much better bargain. They
are all quite skilled in the arts of love and Thor is rather strict
with Thrud so she may be a little too innocent for a man of the world
such as yourself."
"No, it must be Thrud," Kevan said, deciding there was no use in
defending the purity of his own intentions.
"Jaded appetites, eh?" the old god said, shrugging his shoulders. "What
riddles are you going to try on my son? Perhaps I can advise you."
"I'm sorry, sir," Kevan said, "but I'd rather not say. You know the old
saying, 'the walls have ears'?"
"Of course they do," Odin said a trifle impatiently. "They're battle
trophies. I removed every single one of them myself."
At first, Kevan thought the god might be a little mad, but then he
realized that the walls of the throne room were indeed covered with
ears. And not very attractive ears at that. "No, no," he said, averting
his eyes, "I meant that someone might overhear the riddles and tip off
Thor."
"And he wouldn't be above using the information," Odin agreed. "Well,
I'll tell you what--I'll ride you over to Thor's."
"I wouldn't want to trouble you," Kevan began, but was stopped by a
wave of Odin's hand.
"No trouble. After all, we seldom have visitors here. I wouldn't want
it said that Odin lets visitors just wander off by themselves--maybe
even be eaten up by a stray dragon. Besides, I wouldn't mind seeing
that son of mine taken down a notch or two." He looked pleased at the
prospect.
* * * * *
The mention of dragons was enough to keep Kevan from protesting
further. Within a few minutes, he was again mounted on his horse while
Odin rode beside him. As they galloped through the gate, they were
joined by a dozen of the Valkyries. These beautiful young women, their
charms not sufficiently concealed by the armor they wore, immediately
began casting covetous glances at Kevan. He was careful to ride close
beside Odin.
Their arrival at Thor's castle, Belskirnir, was filled with confusion
for Kevan. The palace was swarming with various lusty gods, their
wives, mistresses and children. He was introduced to so many that he
could remember the names of none. He did, however, catch the name of
Thrud when he was introduced to a shapely blonde girl, with a sullen
face. He managed to whisper to her, telling her who he was and the
purpose of his errand, whereupon the sullenness fell from her face. The
result was so startling that Kevan found it difficult to remember that
he was there on behalf of Alviss.
It seemed that they were just in time for a banquet and Kevan found
himself forced to go through what seemed like a hundred course meal,
consisting mostly of half-cooked venison, and so many cups of mead that
his head was swimming.
Kevan had tried several times to get Thor's attention to bring up the
matter of his challenge, but found it almost impossible to make himself
heard above the roar of voices in the banquet hall. But the matter was
finally settled for him by Odin, whose curiosity could no longer stand
the strain.
"Quiet," shouted the chief of the gods, leaping to his feet. He struck
the table a mighty blow with his hand, causing the mead cups to jump
and spill. "Silence!" He waited until the shouting and talking died
down. "The mortal who is our guest would like to challenge my son,
Thor, on three riddles."
Thor looked up from the head of the table, but there was no evidence of
pleasure in his face. He was dressed in a peasant costume and Kevan had
secretly decided that the costume was an affectation.
"I'm not interested in riddles," Thor grunted. "I know enough of them
anyway."
"Well, I am," retorted Odin. "So you'll accept the challenge or I'll
take the thunder concession away from you and give it to Sif."
There was a burst of laughter from around the table and Thor frowned.
He didn't really care about the thunder concession, but if it were
taken from him and given to his wife, the symbolism would be one he'd
never live down. "All right," he growled. "Where is this mortal?"
"Here," Kevan said, standing up. He had expected to be nervous but the
mead had bolstered his courage. "But there's more to the challenge. If
you fail to answer two of the three riddles then I get to take Thrud
away with me."
"You mean you want to marry her?" Thor asked, scowling.
"No," Kevan said. The sudden silence that followed made his ears burn,
but he was afraid to explain more fully. If Thor knew that there was
a chance that Alviss might finally triumph over him, there was a
possibility he would brook his father's anger. So Kevan ignored the
knowing glances and kept quiet.
"That's the trouble with you mortals," grumbled Thor. He cast a quick
glance at his father and decided not to risk arguing about it. "All
right, I agree," he said reluctantly. "What do you pay, if I answer the
riddles?"
Kevan was taken aback. "I--I hadn't thought about that," he admitted.
"Well, think about it," Thor snapped. "I have it. If I answer your
riddles, you'll stay here as my personal goatherd."
* * * * *
Kevan had gone too far to back down, so he nodded. He thought, a little
ruefully, that the next job of Troubleshooters, Inc. might be to rescue
a former agent turned goatherd. It also occurred to him that perhaps
Brian Shanachie didn't bother rescuing agents, but he pushed the
thought away.
"Okay," he said, "here is my first riddle." He'd finally decided on a
first riddle which he suspected was too old, but it was the weakest
of his three and he wanted to get it over with. He cleared his throat
and began: "What we caught, we left behind; what we brought, we cannot
find."
Thor's expression of worry vanished and he burst out laughing. "I
learned that one so long ago," he roared, "that when I first knew it,
it went: Hos' helomen lipometha, Hos' ouk helomen pherometha. The
answer is a flea."
Kevan MacGreene nodded, feeling the first pangs of fear. It suddenly
dawned on him that he had little business pitting wits with a god--even
a discarded one--and he could only hope that his next two riddles
were new enough. In terms of mortal life they too were old; it was so
difficult to tell what was new for a god.
"Here is my second riddle," he said nervously. "I have an apple I can't
cut, a blanket I can't fold, and so much money I can't count it." If
Thor guessed this one, he was finished.
There was a long silence. Kevan sneaked a glance at Odin and the older
god's puzzled expression gave him more confidence than Thor's frown.
The silence stretched into minutes.
"Enough of this," shouted Odin. "Give up, you idiot, so he can tell us
the answer."
"All right," Thor said sullenly. "I give up."
Elation flooded over Kevan. "The apple is the sun," he said, "the
blanket is the sky, and the money is the stars." He grinned happily
at the expression of rage on Thor's face. "Here's my third and last
riddle," he said. "A long white barn, two roofs on it, and no door at
all, at all." He almost held his breath as he waited.
Thor looked around the table as though he thought someone there might
know the answer and signal him. But the other faces were as blank as
his own.
"By Gimli," shouted Odin, "I think he's got you, son. And a good thing,
too. It's high time that daughter of yours was getting out and learning
a thing or two. Go on--confess you're licked."
His face red with anger, Thor nodded.
"It's an egg," Kevan said triumphantly.
The other gods around the table leaped to their feet and slapped Kevan
on the back in token of victory. He had just started to take a drink of
mead, however, and the result was that he choked.
* * * * *
Before Kevan could stop choking, the door to the banquet hall broke
down. A horse and rider came through the door, the horse rearing and
plunging, scattering gods before it. An armored god was astride the
horse, swinging a short-handled axe in his right hand.
In a minute all of the gods were on their feet, shouting. It was Odin
who quieted them with a bellow that shook the rafters. "Well, Hermod?"
he asked as the others quieted.
"It's Ragnarok," the newcomer shouted. "Loki is on his way, with
Jormungandr, Fenris, Hel, Garm, and the Hel-brood. To battle!"
The gods shouted in response and before Kevan had a chance to ask a
single question, the banquet hall was emptied. Only Kevan MacGreene
still sat at the table, staring at the door through which they had all
rushed.
"Better not to get mixed up in any strange fights," Kevan said to
himself, remembering something his father had always told him. He got
up from the table and left the room.
Some fifteen rooms later, he found Thrud and told her of his success.
She nodded, smiling.
"I am ready," she said. "I was sure that anyone Alviss sent would
succeed. Where is my father?"
"They all rushed out to battle," Kevan said. "I didn't catch the
details, but I expect it's just some local argument. Maybe we'd better
hurry before your father returns and changes his mind."