VI

With Thrud leading the way, they went down to the courtyard. There was

a single gray horse standing there patiently. At first, Kevan thought

that it was the horse on which he had arrived, but he changed his mind

when he noticed that this one had eight legs. He counted them three

times to make sure but each time it came out eight.

"It's a good omen," Thrud cried. "This is Sleipnir, Odin's favorite

horse."

Kevan was in no mood to haggle over the ownership of a horse, so he

helped Thrud mount and then leaped on in front of her. He was no

sooner in the saddle than the gray horse sped through the gates. When

the eight legs really got to working, Kevan realized that they were

traveling faster than he'd ever gone in his life.

"I must remember," he thought to himself, "to look for eight-legged

horses the next time I go to the riding academy."

Back over the trail toward Bifrost sped the gray horse. Once far off to

the left Kevan caught sight of a warrior who looked like Odin battling

with a giant wolf.

They were almost to the rainbow bridge when their way was barred by

another horseman, with drawn sword. The gray horse reared, six legs

threshing the air, which kept Kevan busy for a few minutes just staying

on. When that was finally accomplished, he recognized the horseman as

Loki.

Recognition came to Loki at the same moment and he lowered the sword.

"Hello, Kevan MacGreene," he said with an odd smile. "I owe you too

much to bar your way. Go on--as far as you can."

"Well, Mr. Loki," Kevan said. "I thought you'd be home--er--watching

television. What happened?"

"Thanks to you, I'm free," Loki said. "It was decreed that there was

only one way that I could get free--when the greed and lust and vice

and warfare of men became great enough that it would give me the

strength to break my chains. But it is long since we've had contact

with mortals. Then, due to what you call television, I was able to see

the men of your world. There were men whose greed robbed other men.

There were men whose lust destroyed all before them. There were men

whose vices corrupted the innocent and enslaved the free. And there was

warfare on such a scale as never imagined by gods. As I watched, my

strength grew."

"You watched the wrong people," Kevan said. "There are many good

people--although I suppose you don't hear much of them. Still, I'm glad

you were able to get free."

Loki's gaze switched to Kevan's companion. "Thrud," he said, "I'm

sorry, but Ragnarok cannot be held back by a mere romance.... Goodbye,

Kevan MacGreene." He spurred his horse and was gone.

The gray, eight-legged horse was half way over the rainbow bridge

before Kevan realized that the girl behind him was no longer the happy

person who had started with him. He twisted in the saddle and looked at

her. The tears were streaming down her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's Ragnarok," the girl said between sobs.

"But why are you crying?" Kevan asked, bewildered. "Your Uncle Loki

seemed happy that it was Ragnarok."

"He would be," the girl said bitterly. "Don't you understand, Kevan,

Ragnarok is the end of the world."

"Oh, pshaw," scoffed Kevan. "People are always predicting the end of

the world whenever there's a little argument."

"But I'm not people," Thrud said. "I'm the daughter of Thor, the

granddaughter of Odin, and I tell you that Ragnarok means the complete

destruction of the universe. Only Lif and Lifthrasir will be left to

start a new world. But I will have to go to Gimli with my father and

the others, while Alviss will have to go to the Nida Mountains with the

rest of the dwarfs and I'll never see him again."

"And where will I go--no, don't answer that," Kevan added quickly. "My

goodness, this is a mess. You're sure this is the end of the world?"

"Positive," Thrud said. "And you caused it by giving Loki whatever it

was that you gave him. Without that, he would not have learned of the

evil of mortals and he'd still be chained.... I'm sorry, Kevan," she

added in a softer voice, "I know that you didn't realize what you were

doing."

"I'd heard a lot of criticism of television," muttered Kevan, "but I

never thought it was that bad. The destruction of the universe...."

* * * * *

The eight-legged horse galloped off the rainbow bridge and came to a

halt near the trunk of Yggdrasil, sniffing with disdain at the parked

jeep.

"Well," said Kevan with sudden energy, "we'll have to do something

about this. Don't you worry, my dear, Alviss and I will think of

something." He raised his voice. "Oh, you--whatever your name is!"

"Were you addressing me?" the serpent asked, raising its head from the

roots on which it gnawed. "Oh, it's you, old boy. I was just thinking

of that song I wanted to sing to you--"

"Not now," Kevan said hastily. "There's a lady present. Besides I want

you to do me a favor. Something called Ragnarok has started and I'm in

rather a hurry to stop it. I wonder if Miss Thrud might stay here with

you until I get back."

"Of course," said the serpent. "Glad to have her. As a matter of fact,

I have a song which might amuse her. I believe it's called Britannia

Waives the Rules. It's a jolly song--"

"Never mind," said Kevan. "Just see that nothing happens to her. I'll

be right back." He leaped from the back of the horse and climbed

quickly into the jeep.

"If you're thinking of stopping Ragnarok," called the serpent, "you

had better hurry, old chap. Surtr and his men will be coming along any

minute to join the battle and I'm very much afraid that Bifrost will

collapse beneath their weight."

"I'll hurry," promised Kevan. He waved to Thrud and started the jeep.

Within seconds, he had it traveling at top speed.

Alviss was still stirring his cauldron when Kevan MacGreene came

bursting back through the tunnel. "Oh, it's you," he said. "Where's

Thrud? Don't tell me you didn't get her!"

"I did and I didn't," panted Kevan. He quickly explained what had

happened, neglecting only to make it clear that the television set

had been entirely his own idea. The dwarf's face paled throughout the

recital.

"I don't know if Ragnarok can be stopped," he muttered when Kevan had

finished. "But maybe we can find out. I've long had a suspicion...."

He walked over to one of the tunnels leading from where they stood.

"Fialer," he bellowed at the top of his voice. "Galar!"

There was a distant answering shout and Alviss came back to where Kevan

stood. "If anybody will know," he said, "it will be Fialer and Galar.

They're the two who killed Kvaser, the god who knew all answers. You

may remember hearing of the mead which they made of Kvaser's blood and

honey, one draught of which would create a great poet."

"I'm afraid I never heard of it," confessed Kevan, at a total loss.

"Never mind," said Alviss. He stopped as two white-bearded dwarfs came

running into the chamber. He reached out and grabbed each of them by

the beard before the startled dwarfs had any idea of what was happening.

"Remember when the two of you killed Kvaser?" he asked.

"Hey, that's old stuff," one of the dwarfs said. "It's not fair

dragging it up now."

"Besides," said the other, "the statute of limitations has run out."

"I don't care about that," growled Alviss. "I've always had a hunch

that before you made the mead, one or both of you drank his blood

straight and gained his power of all knowledge. I want to know if

that's true and I'm going to find out or I'll knock your heads together

until there's an earthquake up above."

* * * * *

For a minute the two dwarfs met Alviss' gaze, but one of them finally

weakened. "It was him," he said, jerking a thumb in the direction of

his companion.

"Is that true, Fialer?" Alviss asked.

"Yes," the dwarf gulped. "But--"

"I don't care about the reason," snapped Alviss. "Ragnarok has started

and I want to know if there's any way it can be stopped?"

"Yes," said the dwarf.

"How?"

"A special brew of the same forces which permitted Loki and his

children to escape will imprison them again," said Fialer. "I can write

out the prescription for you in a few minutes."

"All right," said Alviss. "Get busy and write it out. Galar, you

get going. I want every available gnome, dwarf, fairy, leprechaun,

brownie--in short, everyone here as quickly as they can make it. As for

you," he added, whirling on Kevan, "you get over in the corner and stay

out of the way until I'm ready for you."

Kevan MacGreene got over in the farthest corner and huddled against

the wall. He had no idea of how much time passed, but the tunnel was

suddenly choked with the comings and goings of Little People. He

noticed that some carried pickaxes, some were armed with huge needles,

and others carried bags. While some were still going out on the orders

of Alviss, others were returning and mysterious objects were being

dropped in a new cauldron. Alviss was already stirring and chanting

before the last of the workers returned. It was only a little later

that Alviss looked up and beckoned to Kevan. The latter hurried over,

conscious of a horrible stench coming from the cauldron. As he arrived,

Alviss was pouring the contents into a tiny bucket.

"A magic bucket," he explained, seeing Kevan's stare. "Now, listen

carefully. You must take this bucket and go back into Asgard. First,

get into position where the wind will blow from you toward all of the

gods. That will stop the fighting. Then if you advance with the bucket

you will be able to drive the Hel-brood, Loki, Garm, Jormungandr,

Fenris and Hel before you. When each is back in the place where they

were originally imprisoned, pour the contents of this bucket over

Loki's chains, the silken cord that bound Fenris, the water in which

Jormungandr coils, and the door to Niflheim. Then you can bring Thrud

safely here."

"What's in it?" Kevan asked.

"There's no time to tell you now," Alviss said. "But I guarantee you

that this will stop Ragnarok if you get there before the fighting

has stopped. If you do as I say, it will also keep Loki and his pack

chained up. There will be only one way they can ever get loose in the

future--and that will be all right. Now, hurry."

Kevan MacGreene ran down the tunnel, swinging the bucket at his side.

If anything, the odor from the bucket spurred him on to greater speed.

The great bridge Bifrost still stood when he once again braked the jeep

beside Yggdrasil. Thrud sat sadly beneath the tree, but the serpent

looked up in excitement as Kevan jumped from the jeep.

"You may just have time," he said. "I can hear the hoofbeats of Surtr's

horses, but they still have some distance to come."

"Thanks," said Kevan. He waved encouragement to Thrud and leaped on

the back of Sleipnir. He dug his heels into the great horse's side and

Sleipnir took off up the bridge with the speed of the wind.

As the horse leaped madly from the other end of the bridge, Kevan

caught a glimpse of the fighters. He saw Thor battling valiantly

against a serpent so huge that there seemed no end to his coils; saw

Vidar warding off the slashing leap of the giant wolf that earlier had

been fighting with Odin; saw the one-armed Tyr drawing more blood from

the already stained watchdog, Garm. Then Sleipnir was circling around

the fight, traveling at such speed that the figures blurred. Kevan held

to the saddle with one hand and with the other held high the bucket.

* * * * *

After a moment, he became aware that the giant horse had slowed down,

that he no longer heard the sounds of battle. He looked around and saw

all the battling gods stiff and unmoving as though suddenly frozen in

action.

Kevan touched his knee to Sleipnir's neck and the gray horse headed

for the group. Kevan held the bucket in front of him. Slowly, some of

the figures came to life, began to move backward ahead of him. Fenris

the Wolf slavered and snarled and Jormungandr's hissing was like the

sound of a tornado, but they moved steadily before him. Garm growled

threateningly; curses spilled from the lips of the black and white Hel,

but they too gave ground. Only Hel's army of the dead and Loki remained

unmoved in the face of their defeat.

One by one, Kevan MacGreene put the legion of evil back in their

prisons and sealed the chains and the doors with the contents of the

bucket. The last one was Jormungandr, who slid his giant coils back

into the ocean and waited with flattened head. Kevan poured the last of

the bucket into the ocean, heard Jormungandr twist and splash, saw the

ocean turn a strange and fearsome blue. Then he flung the bucket from

him and, weak-kneed, rode back toward Bifrost.

As the gray horse came down off the rainbow bridge, Kevan heard a

strange noise and realized that it was the serpent singing "For he's a

jolly good fellow" only slightly off key. He collapsed over the horse

in hysterical laughter.

As he fell off the horse, Thrud rushed up and kissed him on the cheek.

At the moment, that seemed a greater reward than the fact that he was

alive.

Kevan and Thrud said goodbye to Nidhoggr, the serpent, who furtively

shook a tear from his eyes and went back to gnawing on the roots of

Yggdrasil as the jeep bounced away.

For the third time that night, Kevan MacGreene walked up the tunnel

in the hill across from the four kings' palace. This time, Thrud

walked ahead of him. As they reached the chamber, Alviss was nervously

waiting. With a little cry, Thrud rushed ahead, picked the dwarf up

from the ground and hugged him to her breast.

* * * * *

It was a long and passionate clinch. While it was going on, Kevan

suddenly realized that his job was finished and that he was tired. It

had been a long night's work. Finally, when he could wait no longer, he

leaned over and tapped the dwarf on the shoulder.

Alviss tore his lips from Thrud's and looked over his shoulder,

scowling. "Go get your own woman," he said.

"I was about," Kevan said with dignity, "to announce that I was

leaving. I wondered if perhaps you might know of a shorter way back

than the way I came. I'm rather tired and would like to get home as

soon as I can."

"Put me down, dear," Alviss told Thrud. She obeyed and the little dwarf

seemed to listen a moment. Then he picked up his pickaxe and strode

over to the wall. With a few swings, he'd opened a fairly large hole.

"There," he said to Kevan, "that'll let you into a subway passage

that's right beneath Shanachie's office. I must admit that I'm grateful

to you, Kevan MacGreene."

"Think nothing of it," Kevan said. He started to step through the hole,

then hesitated. "There is one thing I'd like to know," he said.

"What?"

"What was in that mixture that stopped Ragnarok and is strong enough to

hold the evil gods of Asgard?"

"Just what the recipe called for," Alviss said proudly. "All of the

pitch-blende in the world. The egos of a general, a dictator, and a

number of lesser persons. The vanity of some American Congressmen. The

greed of an infinite number of men. One drop of blood from the left

thumb of a communist, a capitalist, a religious fanatic, a censor,

a racist, and from every man in the world who would like to be a

little better than some other man. A drop of marrow, as a substitute

for blood, from all executive vice-presidents. One page each from

a contract, a mortgage, a promissory note, an international cartel

agreement. Three corporation charters. One lobbyist's expense account.

Finger-nail cuttings from every politician in the world. All of these

boiled together in the juice of man's inhumanity to man. Your world is

now minus all of those things, but we achieved a brew which possessed

more evil than Loki and his pack could stand."

"I can still remember the odor," Kevan said nodding.

"What it contained that may be of value, if used differently," said

Alviss, "can sometime be regained by a world in which the mortals

cannot misuse them. Although such action will also release Loki, it

will then do no harm. When men are not evil, then their gods dare not

be. Now, be along with you, Kevan MacGreene--I have a spot of courting

to do."

Kevan stepped through the hole and found himself in a subway station.

He hurried up the stairs and a moment later stepped out on the streets

of New York.

While he'd been sure that it was almost daylight when he'd left Alviss,

here it was only approaching evening. Although he did not look closely,

being in a hurry to check in, it seemed to him that there was something

different about everything in the city.

He finally arrived at the corner of Fourth and Twelfth Streets and

stopped, puzzled. There ahead of him was the sign _TROUBLESHOOTERS,

INC._, but it was on a fine modern building that looked as if it were

made from spun glass. He could have sworn that it had been on an old

brownstone building. Deciding that it must have been the hangover, he

hurried inside.

"Kathleen," he shouted to the dark-haired girl at the desk.

She looked up with a friendly but distant smile. "I beg your pardon,"

she said.

* * * * *

Kevan looked at her and frowned. She looked almost exactly like

Kathleen Culanna, even to the emerald green eyes, but she was

different. "You're not Kathleen Culanna," he said.

The girl shook her head. "No," she said, "I'm afraid that she left some

time ago. You must be one of our men, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Kevan. "Kevan MacGreene's the name. You can be telling his

nibs I'm back." The more he looked at the girl the more he thought he'd

recover from the disappointment of not seeing Kathleen. "And what's

your name?"

"Colleen Dannan."

"A pretty name to go with a pretty lass," Kevan said. "Is his nibs in?"

"Yes, Mr. Shanachie is in," the girl said. "He asked me to give you

your salary check if you came in this way." She held up a pink oblong

of paper.

"Salary, then, is it?" said Kevan, reaching for it. "It must be that

he remembered I said that I was broke. You know I never did learn what

this job pays."

"I believe the pay for agents is ten dollars a week," said Colleen.

"Ten dollars a week?" said Kevan, feeling the rage grow in him. "Why,

of all the doublecrossing, thieving--" He broke off and gulped. He'd

just looked at the check and saw the figure that was written on it.

_Pay to the order of Kevan MacGreene $468,000.00._ "There must be some

mistake," he said in a weak voice. "This check is for almost a half a

million dollars."

"No mistake," the dark-haired girl said with a smile. "You were working

in the land of the Little People, weren't you?"

Kevan nodded.

"And you were there for a whole night?"

Kevan nodded again.

"Then there's no mistake," the girl said. "One night in the land of the

Little People is the same as nine hundred years here. This is the year

2852 and that represents your back pay."

For a moment, the room spun about Kevan MacGreene's head. He gripped

the desk hard and hung on and after a moment he could see a pair of

emerald green eyes clearly. They looked friendly--and soothing.

"Colleen Dannan," he said, "would you have dinner with me and explain

all of this again while you're holding my hand to protect me from the

shock?"

"He's waiting for you," the girl said, indicating the door. "Ask me

when you come back. If I'm still here, I will."

Kevan MacGreene took two steps toward the door and then came back,

shaking his head.

"No," he said firmly. "If I've been working nine hundred years then I'm

entitled to a night off. And I lost one girl by walking through that

door. I'm taking no chances on this one. Come with me, Colleen--you're

going to dinner."

And that is how Colleen Dannan, a descendent of Macha De Dannan

herself, came to have dinner with Kevan MacGreene, but one generation

and nine hundred years removed from the County Ulster.