Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) (37 page)

“How many countries are there in the dwarven realm?” said Arvid.

“Since two years ago there are only sixty-seven,” Ogur answered after a moment’s thought. “After the heirs of the houses Son Erisi and Son Bach got married, they decided to unite their countries.”

“Sixty-seven,” Arvid repeated in amazement. “Tha dwarven realm must be of enormous size.”

“A bit smaller than Jördendheim. It’s just divided into many countries. The house Son Hoormi rules over the second largest of them; it’s adjacent to the Ice Wastes.” Ogur was obviously proud.

He led Arvid to a circular place, from which some flat, wide stairs led up a hill. Upstairs there was a stone circle. In the middle a number of pretty plants grew, which were arranged in small groups and glowed in different colors. Around them there were seats that looked like two steps of solid rock.

Ogur was amazed at how little Arvid knew about the giants and the dwarves and began to tell her all sorts of things, starting with the stone benches on which they sat down now. If you were small, you could sit on the upper level and put up your feet. The giants, however, were able to comfortably use the full height.

“In the past you had to accept the fact that everything was too big,” Ogur laughed, “but nowadays the giants are a little more accommodating. In most places, there are chairs for our size, high enough to be able to comfortably sit at a table along with giants.”

“Are you here in Sölunnir often?” asked Arvid.

“Several times a year. My house has a contract with King Farbaute that gives us the right to a certain amount of raw materials, ore, and sometimes soul gems. I come here on a regular basis, to look at what is currently available. It all depends on where the giants are digging at the moment.”

“And in return, you provide them with grain?”

“That’s right,” Ogur replied proudly, “apart from two months in the winter, we supply Sölunnir throughout the year. We also have really good apples, but regrettably giants are not particularly fond of fruit.”

“Really?”

“Giants don’t like sweet things. They like it either bland or bitter. Well, at least they’ve started using salt now.”

“But there are also many humans living here.”             

Ogur waved. “Almost exclusively servants,” he said, folding his arms and glancing over to Desrei, who stood on the other side of the round and waited. “They have to adjust to the giants.”

Arvid frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” said the dwarf. “I’d really like to sell the giants some apples.”

“My concern is that people are slaves here,” Arvid said with barely suppressed anger.

Ogur thoughtfully rocked his head back and forth. “I wouldn’t call them slaves,” he said. “They are treated well, get plenty of food…”

“Do they receive a payment for their work?” Arvid interrupted him. “I hardly think so.”

Ogur hesitated, then shook his head. “No, of course not. But that’s their role, after all. They don’t know anything else.”

“It’s still wrong,” Arvid said firmly.

“You’re not the only one who thinks like that,” said the dwarf. “The poor relationship between Jördendheim and the Ice Wastes has a lot to do with it. It’s a holdover from the old days when the giants still dominated all these lands.” He shrugged. “But giants are quite stubborn. There’s probably not much you can do about it.”

Although the subject excited Arvid, she decided to leave it for the time being. She didn’t want to start a fight with the first dwarf she met. It wasn’t Ogur and his people who were responsible for the position of the humans in Sölunnir.

Ogur’s supply of stories about interesting experiences with the giants seemed endless. Although Arvid made many mistakes in Old Jördisch and felt as if she was constantly trying to find the right words, she started to feel a little more secure after a while. She had to concentrate on what Ogur was saying to understand it in detail, but was now glad to have been forced to learn this language back at Vero-Maghen.

“Forgive me, my lord, my lady,” a voice suddenly interrupted them.

Two brown-clad servants stood in front of them. One was Mardun, but it was the second man who had approached them. He was tall, thin and gray-haired, had dark eyes and a striking aquiline nose. He bowed and said, “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lady. His Highness Prince Byleist sends me. Your presence in the council chamber is desired.”

After Arvid had said goodbye to Ogur, the gray-haired man led her out of the gardens. To her question, he replied that his name was Hemett and that he was responsible for keeping the council chambers and the surrounding corridors clean and tidy. Unlike Mardun and Desrei, Hemett naturally continued speaking Old Jördisch, but Arvid actually welcomed that fact. After all it was to be expected that the prince would also communicate in this language.

“Who will be present in the Council?” said Arvid after they had walked for a while, because now some nervousness started to spread in her.

“The entire royal family, my lady,” said Hemett, “apart from Prince Helblindi and His Majesty King Farbaute, who currently stays in Borkh. There are also two consultants and a scribe present.”

“Is Borkh a country?”

“It is, my lady,” answered Hemett. “It lies in the northwest of the Wastes. The relationship between Borkh and Isvirndjellen has been tense for a long time.“

“Why?”

“I don’t know anything about that, I’m afraid.”

“What should I call the prince and his family? Is expected of me that… that I bow or something?”

“You’re a goddess,” said Hemett, “a slight bow will suffice. All members of the royal family present today are to be addressed with ‘Your Highness’.”

Arvid nodded. “Will Loke be present?”

It was hard to overlook that Hemett was confused by the question. He gave her an odd look. “Yes, he will, my lady.”

They reached another passage. In the middle was a narrow, high door in a deep blue color. Left and right of it high columns rose. Arvid’s heart began to beat faster as Hemett opened the door and invited her to enter.

A large, oval room with a high ceiling received her, with walls almost entirely covered with black and green striped draperies. In the middle stood a long table made of stone. Around it the giants sat on massive chairs, engaged in a heated conversation that now fell silent. Six pairs of slate-gray giant eyes turned to Arvid. Although she already felt small like an ant, she hastened to bow.

“The human is here, Byleist,” said a giantess, who was sitting at one head of the table. She sounded unfriendly, almost contemptuous. As Arvid met her gaze, she immediately felt uncomfortable. Although it was difficult for her to guess the age of giants, it was clear that she had to be rather old. Her hair was snow white and like all giants Arvid had seen so far, matted to thin, compact strands. They were gilded with a large number of colored beads and golden glittering rings. Across from her sat a giant who noisily got up from his seat now.

“Welcome,” he said aloud. “I’m glad to see that you have recovered.” In his eyes there was no hostility, only curiosity. His hair was almost black, also richly decorated and so long that it would have reached down to his knees if it were not gathered in braids. He wore loose, lightly falling trousers in black and a thin robe of a shiny, silky fabric, which bore a pattern of blues and greens.

“I’m Byleist of Isvirndjellen, Farbaute’s son,” he continued, then he made a sweeping motion toward the old giantess on the other side. “This is Naal, Queen of Isvirndjellen and my mother.”

Arvid bowed her head in her direction, but quickly looked away when Naal’s hostile gaze met her again.

“These are Katta and Nesjemir, royal advisors of Isvirndjellen, and Ghelm, my personal adviser and scribe. Loke you already know.”

Arvid nodded at the three giants one after another, then her eyes fell on Loke, who aptly had taken the shape of a giant, too, and blended in perfectly. Although she had already seen this body twice, there were some significant differences this time. He wore clothes that strongly resembled those of Byleist. The upper part of his hair he wore tied to a thick knot, and small rings and elongated beads of brightly polished metal were shining in it.

Arvid tore herself away from his sight and turned back to the prince. “It’s an honor for me to be here, Your Highness.”

Byleist smiled. “Sit down,” he said, pointing to an unusual chair made of dark wood, which looked a little bit like a bar stool and had sprouts like a ladder. After a short hesitation, Arvid followed his invitation. Her nervousness increased. Surrounded by giants, she felt terribly small and weak.

“I’m sorry we had to let you wait,” Byleist continued, “but there were several urgent matters that tolerated no delay and required our full attention.”

“What happened?” Arvid asked uncertainly.

“Some of our caves have collapsed in the earthquake. Down in the city there were numerous victims, and some places have become easily accessible to the deep-dwellers and needed to be secured.”

With a queasy feeling Arvid thought back to the worm that had stung her.

“I understand,” Arvid said. “I hope everything is all right again.”

“No, it’s not!” The queen snapped with hostility. “It will take weeks to repair the damage and to seal the chinks.”

Byleist threw his mother an annoyed glance. “The situation is under control,” he then said to Arvid. “There is not much danger anymore, but the lives that were lost can’t be returned.”

Arvid nodded and preferred to stay silent this time.

“Still, it’s time we take up the issue of your further continuance,” Byleist said. “All those present here are informed that you’re able to help Isvirndjellen win back a large part of our lost land. Your safety is therefore of great importance. We already discussed various ways to protect your life. We have not yet come to an agreement. Furthermore, Ghelm and Loke found it necessary for you to be involved in the discussion.”

Arvid looked from Byleist to Loke and back again. “But is my life in danger?” she asked.

“Asgard knows that you’re here,” said the giant whom Byleist had introduced as Katta. He had conspicuously bushy, dark eyebrows and a rough, deep voice that sounded calm, almost gentle. “It’s still uncertain what they will do, but should they go for a direct attack, we could hardly defend ourselves.”

“You really think they would do that?” Arvid asked doubtfully. “I thought there is peace between the two countries. Wouldn’t they try it through diplomatic channels?”

“Yes, certainly,” Byleist agreed. “We expect a messenger, and the demand to deliver you to Asgard. However, once we reject, they will take other measures, and the alternatives are limited.”

“You could ask for respite,” suggested Arvid.

Naal laughed out loud. “A great idea,” she said. “I’m sure that this will solve the problem all by itself.”

“It will take at least a year before we have the right light conditions again,” Loke said now. “If we are unlucky, several years. We can string Odin along, but in the end that won’t change anything.”

Arvid swallowed. “And you really think that… I’m not safe here? Isn’t Sölunnir a fortress?”

“Asgard’s fifty most powerful gods were enough to make this fact irrelevant,” Katta said. “We have waged war against them for long enough to know our position. If Jökutnjamargr were still a united country, the situation would probably look different, but although Isvirndjellen and Utstern are friends, Utstern won’t engage in a war because of a human goddess.”

“And what do you suggest?” said Arvid. “Should I… hide somewhere out there?”

“The best solution, in my opinion,” said the Queen with a cool smile. “At least she would be out of our hair then.”

“There are various suggestions,” said Byleist and again threw an angry glance toward his mother. “One of them was, in fact, to hide you in a secluded area in the countryside, so that only a handful of people know where you are. But that would also have a major disadvantage: Should they happen to find you anyway, you’d be completely unprotected.”

“But they would have to find her first,” Naal interjected vigorously. “There are many remote places in the mountains that are very hard to reach.”

“It feels too much like a gamble,” Byleist said. “I don’t like to take chances. Quite apart from that, the mere fact that Asgard’s gods roam our land could pose a threat to our people.”

Naal made a derisive noise. “You’re talking as if they were pillagers.”

“Odin would be quite prepared to use force if he thinks someone conceals something from him,” Loke said. “Even if he is wrong. As I mentioned yesterday, I believe that he fears for his life. His fear may drive him to actions which he otherwise wouldn’t take.”

“Either way, it would be risky to simply hide Arvid somewhere,” Byleist said firmly. “Nesjemir had another suggestion, though.”

“You know that I’m against it!” Loke said sharply. He sounded so determined that Arvid could not help wondering what role he played in this round.

“She should still know about it,” said Byleist. “Nesjemir, please explain your proposal.”

The called party cleared his throat. “One option would be to ask Sifrjejri for asylum for you,” he said. “There you would at least temporarily be safe.”

“The dear child has no idea where Sifrjejri is,” sighed Naal and slumped in the corner of her chair.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” said Nesjemir with bowed head, then he turned back to Arvid. “Sifjejri is one of four countries of Jökutnjamargr. It’s small and far in the north. It’s more or less cut off from the other countries. Its people strictly wish no contact with the outside world.”

“That doesn’t sound as if they would grant asylum to anyone,” said Arvid.

“Under normal circumstances, they indeed would never do so. Sifjejri’s leader is indebted to His Majesty King Farbaute, though. He helped them to become independent.”

“And why would I be safer there than here?”

“The trip to Sifjejri is long and arduous, even for giants,” said the consultant. “It’s very cold there, and the border is protected by high mountains.”

“For humans the journey through the mountains can be fatal,” Loke threw in gloomily, “that’s why this solution is out of the question.”

“We might get to the point it’s the only solution that remains,” said Byleist. “Arvid is small. She could be carried in a litter and would be adequately protected.”

“It’s out of the question!” Loke repeated firmly and so loudly that Arvid gave him a startled look. “Parts of the path are barely passable even without a litter.”

“Oh, come on already!” Naal rebuked him roughly. “She may be just a tiny human, but summer isn’t over yet. We would find a way to get her to Sifjejri alive.”

“Even if!” Loke retorted angrily, leaning far over the table in front of him. “In Sifjejri it’s so cold that her stay would be a never-ending ordeal!”

The Queen snorted. “How bad can the cold be? This is about preserving her life, not about offering her as much comfort as possible!”

“What do you know about what the cold feels like for humans?” Loke shouted angrily.

Arvid’s confusion and unease grew. Loke was a god and had always been irreverent and intemperate, but the way he spoke with Naal seemed outrageous. After all, she was the Queen of Isvirndjellen.

“Not as much as you, that’s for sure,” Naal said with narrowed eyes. “By now you’ve almost become one of these puny creatures yourself. But why does the weakness of these wretched beings interest me? They have to cope with it themselves.”

“Please!” Byleist called out energetically. “Quarrels won’t get us anywhere.”

For a moment there was silence, but the atmosphere was so tense that Arvid did not dare to say anything, but silently looked around. Loke and Naal still threw each other angry looks, while Katta and Nesjemir bleakly stared at the table. Ghelm, the old scribbler, who had not uttered a word so far, played with a quill pen, seemingly lost in thought.