Giants of the Frost (8 page)

A cold squally rainstorm blew in that morning as Aud recounted to Loki some of the histories of her ancestors. Stubby candles sputtered, in the alcoves between the pillars and the room filled with smoke. From time to time, Loki would declare he was bored with the facts, and made her retell a battle story as a love story, an adventure as a domestic comedy. Laughing, she would comply, enjoying inventing more and more outrageous plots and casting the less-loved members of her family in them.

"Now you tell one," she said, her voice exhausted after hours of continuous use. He waved a long finger. "No, no.
You
are the servant."

She bit down her pride. "Of course."

"There's a story you haven't told me," Loki said. "How did you come to be in Asgard?"

"I was sentenced to a thousand years—"

"Yes, I know that. But why? What terrible crime did you commit?"

A cold ache stole over Aud's heart. "No crime," she whispered.

"You must have done something awful to receive such a punishment. Who ordered you out? Was it your father?"

She shook her head. "I wish not to speak of it."

"You must speak of it. You are in my service for the day and must do as I say." In the five years she had lived in Asgard, she had never revealed her story to anyone. Although she had longed to unburden her sad heart to Vidar, he, ever gentle with her feelings, had never asked. She didn't want to tell Loki, who might make fun or shrug coldly. But she was in his service. His pale grey eyes were fixed on her face. "Oh, I
long
to hear this story," he said. "You look so unhappy, it must surely be a beautiful tragedy."

"It's real," she snapped, then softer, "It's not just a story. It's my life." He sat back. She thought he looked chastened. "Tell me, then," he said.

"I was sentenced by the Norns. You know of them?"

"Those ridiculous hags? Of course."

"When I came to womanhood, I was chosen as a student of the seidhr and sent to wander in the roots of the World Tree as an initiation. You have no doubt been to the World Tree, Loki. You know that a man can wander for years and never see another soul. And yet, on the first day I entered the tree, I happened upon the abode of the Norns."

Loki's body flexed forward, eagerness in every muscle. "You know where they live?" She shook her head. "I will come to that. Because the Norns are the guardians of fate, they decided that my finding them was an act of fate, and chose me as their intermediary. I was to visit them regularly with news of the world above ground, bring them gifts, spend time with them as a companion. And so it continued for seven years.

"In my youth, in my thoughtlessness, I took a lover from the elven lands. He returned immediately to Alfheim, but I bore his son. Helgi." His name stopped up her throat and tears pricked her eyes.

"You have a child?"

She nodded, pressing her lips together. "Yes," she said softly. "I have a son, his name is Helgi."

"Go on," Loki said, "I'm fascinated."

"My father was enraged about my birthing a half-elven child, so I took myself away from court and lived simply on an old apple farm that belonged to my family. I raised Helgi alone, with very few cares. In time, my father relented and invited me home, but I was stubborn and I loved the intimacy of the two of us. I played with Helgi, I told him stories and sang him songs. He was a bright, loving boy, with soft plump arms and trusting eyes…" Aud took a deep, shuddering breath. She could almost taste his skin on her lips and the unending sadness rolled over her like a wave. "But one day, on his third birthday, it all changed. Everything changed."

The fire crackled and popped and the smoke stung her eyes. Loki sat very still, watching her. She didn't want to lay her heart so bare to such an unsympathetic audience, but the story had gathered its own momentum; the words spilled out of her.

"I wanted to collect some apples for breakfast. Helgi was sleeping when I left. He looked so peaceful that, rather than wake him, I chose to leave him there. I intended to dash to the orchard and return within minutes. But I found one of our goats wounded and caught in a rope trap I'd hung for foxes. She was panicked and made it impossible to unpick the knots. We relied on the goats for our milk and cheese, so I persisted, finally setting her free and gathering the apples. I dashed home.

"By this time, Helgi had been alone for nearly half an hour. I hoped he was still sleeping, but a hundred feet from the cottage I knew my hopes were dashed. I could hear him crying… wailing like he hadn't wailed since he was a tiny baby.

"I ran to the house, dropping the apples, and found him next to my bed, sitting on the floor and sobbing. I scooped him up to comfort him, and soon his sobs turned to hiccups and he said to me, 'Mama, you were gone for so long.'

" 'Shh, shh,' I said. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'

" 'It's my birthday, Mama. It's not nice to be so unhappy on my birthday,' he said.

" '"I know, my precious, I know. What special treat would prove how sorry I am?'

"He looked up at me. His face was red and tear-stained, but he managed a smile. 'Could we ride on Steypr?'

"Steypr was one of my father's horses. I had been granted her when I left court. She was a mighty beast and I was afraid of riding her. I would certainly never let Helgi ride her, but he adored her. He spent hours sitting astride a fallen log by the fence and pretending it was Steypr. I said, 'No, Helgi, you know Steypr is too big and too strong to be ridden by such a little boy.'

"He sobbed again, so hard that his little body shook in my arms, and wailed, 'But I
am
big. I am three years old!'

"I felt so guilty for leaving him alone on the morning of his birthday that I conceded." Loki leaned forward, his hands pressed together between his knees. "You regret this."

"Oh, yes." Her voice was little more than a whisper, choked by tears. Long seconds passed, and Loki waited with a patient smile.

"Go on," he said at last. "He fell, didn't he?"

"I thought it would do no harm if I propped him on Steypr's back, held the reins myself, and led him round in a circle. But Helgi was too excited. He giggled and shouted and squealed, and grabbed her mane and yanked. Steypr reared, the reins pulled from my hands so violently that the flesh tore away with them, and she galloped straight to the fence. Helgi screamed. I called out to him to hold tight. Steypr looked like she would take the jump, but balked. Helgi flew from her back and hit the ground with such a thud… like all the love in the world falling to the bottom of a deep pit." Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she palmed them away.

"Was he dead?"

Aud shook her head. "He breathed, but barely. In the scant minutes it took to get him to his bed, he grew purple and swollen and I knew he would die." Her voice broke and she fought to steady it. "I sat by his side and held his hand and sobbed. He was unaware of my presence, already vanishing down that foggy passageway even we cannot understand. Immortality, true immortality, is only for those who take extreme care." She drew a long breath, bringing her lungs once more under her control. "My child was everything to me: he was my spirit, my heart. I could not sit there and do nothing. I knew where the Norns lived, the vendors of fate. This time when I left the house, left his sad limp body behind, I was not afraid of Helgi waking while I was gone. It seemed certain he would never wake again." Aud paused and glanced up at Loki, who gazed at her without speaking. She needed to rein in this tale; it became dangerous to reveal too much detail to her audience. "I journeyed to the World Tree. Helgi's fate was just appearing on Verda's loom. I made a deal with her: in exchange for reweaving Helgi's death into life, she sent me here to Asgard for a thousand years."

"In punishment?" Loki interjected. "She was angry that you dared to use your association with them for personal gain?"

Aud nodded. "I don't regret it. I was very lucky to know them. I was lucky to be able to save my son's life. Verda cut me a piece of her thread and handed it to me. It glowed with bright colors. I was told that when I left the World Tree, I could turn west toward Vanaheim and Helgi would die, or east toward my new fate in Asgard and Helgi would live. I made my decision, the thread turned black and I have not seen nor held my son in my arms since that day. He grows up happily in the good care of my family." Aud dropped her head and pressed her palms against each other.

"And the Norns?" Loki asked.

"They moved so I wouldn't find them again. They no longer trusted me." She glanced up from the fire to see his face, trying to read his expression. "Has my story amused you?" Loki rose and pulled her to her feet, clasping her hands in his. "I'm not a monster, Aud," he said, "I'm genuinely moved. Look at you, you aren't fit for more work today. Perhaps you should return to Vidar." She was surprised by his generosity. "I… thank you."

"Vidar doesn't know, does he? About Helgi?"

"No. He hasn't asked."

"Perhaps you aren't as close as you think you are," Loki said, a cruel edge touching his voice. "Perhaps you should rely upon me as a friend instead of him."

"Vidar is a good friend to me," she said, but was aware of how weak the protest sounded.

"Do you know he plans to go to Midgard?"

"He says he has no such plans."

"I can tell. Lies lurk like dim fireflies in the eyes of their tellers. Have you any idea why he wants to go?" Aud thought about the seeing-water, but shook her head. "No."

"And now
you
lie. You have some inkling, don't you?"

"No. No, I don't. I don't know anything."

"Are you protecting some secret of his?"

"No."

Loki leaned in close, his grip on her hands tightening. "Your loyalty is misplaced. He's not what he appears to be, Aud. Believe me. He has a cruel streak—"

"He has always been good and kind to me," Aud interjected. "I don't like to hear bad things said of him." Loki released her hands. "And now all my pity has drained away. You should have accepted my kindness while it was offered. Now you can spend the rest of the day scrubbing pots. But when you do return to Gammaldal, take a message for Vidar. 'Only Loki can get past Heimdall.'" Aud found the menial work less complicated than the storytelling. As she worked she thought about Loki's assertion that Vidar was not all he seemed. When she considered the huge omissions she had made from her own story, she supposed nobody was as they seemed. Aud knew where the Norns lived still. But they held something very dear to her to ensure she never spoke of it.
Only Loki can get past Heimdall.

All through the long night, this message—offered solemnly and softly by Aud on her return—bound Vidar to wakefulness. Was it true? The question turned in his mind as a scrap of seaweed twists and dances in an ocean wave. Heimdall was a giant-killer and the most battle-hardened of the Aesir. His senses were keen, his loyalty to Odin keener. There was little chance of crossing the bridge unnoticed. Others could come and go to Midgard as they pleased. Loki went regularly, and was amassing a treasure trove of Midgard objects. Odin cared nothing for Loki's journeying, because Loki had never threatened to unravel the strands of fate that bound the Aesir. Vidar had. He had fallen in love with a mortal woman. Vidar turned under his blanket and watched the dying glow of the fire. Outside, a rain squall beat on the roof and shutters. The occasional drip popped and hissed on the dim embers. Secrecy was the key. And yet he must ask for Loki's help, a man who dealt in trickery and deception, in theft and blackmail, whose loyalties were as slippery and skittish as fish.

Vidar acknowledged also a connection with Loki. Both of them were outsiders to the debauched and violent insanity of Valaskjálf; both of them despised the folk who shared their blood. Could their mutual abhorrence for their family bind them together in confidence?

The rain passed as Vidar lay awake, tracing the patterns on the carved roof beams with his eyes. Softly, the sound of Aud muttering in her sleep became audible. Aud lay just beyond the door. Why couldn't he fall in love with her? She clearly loved him. She was beautiful and accomplished and noble, and many times he had caught a glimpse of her white arm, or the curve of her breast, and the ancient and ever-supple machinations of desire stirred in him.

But desire was nothing without passion, without love. He still loved Halla, he would
always
love Halla. In some long-extinguished moment his soul and hers had brushed against each other, creating a friction that gathered into a spark, a flame, a mighty star. It was primal and eternal. He closed his eyes. His fingertips longed to touch her lips, his mouth longed to find the soft flesh at her wrists and elbows.
Victoria
. Could any misgivings about Loki really keep him away?

He sat up and threw off the blanket, found his clothes and shoes. Dawn was scarcely an hour away. He let himself out of the house and headed for the stables to saddle his horse. Arvak's dark flanks glistened in the half-light as Vidar led him outside. Rain had blown in again, the sky stained with night and clouds.

"Vidar? Where are you going?" Aud stood at the door, her hair loose, her expression sleepy.

"I'm going to see Loki."

Realization spread across her face. "He'll be asleep," she warned. "You should wait a few hours."

"I'll wake him up." Without a backward glance, Vidar mounted and spurred Arvak toward the east, toward Loki and the pale sunlight struggling through clouds.

Every time Aud approached Vidar to ask for a day to herself, he always agreed. "Of course, Aud," he would say, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "Take your time, do as you please." And yet, she always felt uneasy about asking. Was it because, secretly, she wanted him to protest her absence? Was every request for time away from him laden with hope that he might reveal some trace of affection in his answer?

Sometimes she returned in the early hours of the following morning, long after he had gone to sleep. On those occasions he would wake, ask if she was well and safe, then return to his slumber. He never asked where she had been. Was he too respectful of her privacy to ask or too indifferent to her actions to care?