Runemarks (10 page)

“Nice aim,” said Lucky. “Feel better now?”

But Maddy had already turned her back. Who in the Nine Worlds did he think he was? He was only an accidental player in this game, a bystander, just clever enough to enter World Below but not enough to get out again, just a glassblower’s prentice with no magic and no glam.

And yet,
she thought,
what if he’s right?

She shot him a look over her shoulder and saw him watching her curiously. Serve him right, she thought, if she left him here. Let him rot underground or be caught by goblins. It would be no more than he deserved. She stood up abruptly and turned to the cave entrance.

“Where are you going?” Lucky said.

“I’m going to get the Whisperer.”

“What, now?”

“Why not?”

Now there was alarm in Lucky’s voice. “You’re crazy,” he said, catching hold of her arm. “It’s late, you’re exhausted, you haven’t got a clue—”

“I’ll manage,” she snapped. “I’m a lot smarter than you give me credit for.”

Lucky gave a rueful sigh. “Maddy, I’m sorry,” he said. “Me and my mouth. My brother always said I should have it sewn up, do everyone a favor.”

Maddy glared and would not turn around.

“Maddy. Please. Don’t go. I apologize.” Now he even
sounded
sorry, and Maddy found herself relenting. He couldn’t be expected to take all this on trust. His world was very different from hers, and it was only natural for him to be suspicious. He had no magic, knew nothing of the Whisperer, and more importantly, she reminded herself, he didn’t know One-Eye.

The question remained, Maddy thought—did
she
?

5

The doubts he had awakened were not easily put aside. After a rather silent supper of leftover fish, Maddy found herself tired but unable to rest. While Lucky slept, apparently oblivious, she tried in vain to find a comfortable position on the rock floor but again and again found her mind going back to the same words.

A man may plant a tree for a number of reasons.

What had been One-Eye’s reason? Why had he taught her so much and yet kept so much from her? Most of all, how could he know anything about a treasure that had been lost since the Winter War?

Behind her, Lucky was still asleep. Maddy couldn’t see how he
could
sleep in such relentless heat, with the sounds of World Below echoing and rumbling like thunder around them, but there he was, twitching a little, as if at some dream, curled comfortably into a hollow in the rock with his jacket rolled up beneath his head.

Perhaps he was used to the heat, she thought. A glassblower’s prentice has to spend long hours working the ovens, fanning and stoking the fires for the melted glass. Besides, he was unusually resourceful—for a prentice—and he had had time to get used to the unpleasant conditions.

Still, now that she came to think of it, Maddy realized that although Lucky knew a great deal about her,
she
still knew almost nothing about
him.
What was he doing under the Hill? From what he had told her, he had been gone for two weeks or more—a serious breach of his contract of apprenticeship, for which he would be punished when he returned. Why would a glassblower’s prentice come here? More importantly, how had a glassblower’s prentice managed to break into World Below in the first place?

A few feet away, Lucky slept, a picture of innocence. Maddy could not believe she hadn’t at least questioned him, hadn’t even thought of doing so until now. There had been so much else to do—and besides, Lucky had no magic, no glam.
Bjarkán
confirmed it—he left no trail.

But now even that made Maddy uneasy. She tried to recall exactly
what
she had seen as Lucky came back over the rocks with his fishing net. Surely there should have been
something,
she thought—his colors, at least. Lucky was young and strong and smart; he should have left a good, bright signature behind him. But even with
Bjarkán,
there had been no colors. Not a gleam, not a glimmer.

Could he have hidden them somehow?

The thought was too alarming. It suggested—

Sitting up sharply, she raised her hand and cast
Bjarkán
for the second time, and this time she concentrated as hard as she could, looking into the runeshape for anything—
anything
—out of the ordinary.

The glassblower’s prentice slept on, one hand clenched at his side, the other flung out against the rock. Now she could see his signature, a bright and exuberant violet, glowing fitfully as he slept.

Maddy gave a sigh of relief. Just nerves, that’s all it was; nerves and her own fears, making her jump at shadows. She lowered her gaze…

And then she saw it in his left hand, where, sleeping, he must have relaxed his guard. A trio of runes, like thin trails of colored fire scrawled across his palm:
ýr
, the Protector, crossed with
Bjarkán
and
Ós,
a complex charm to shield him as he slept.

So much for his innocence, Maddy thought. Gods knew who this Lucky was or why he had lied, but one thing about her new friend was clear. He was no prentice after all.

He was a Fury, just like her.

Most runes can be neutralized, either by reversal or by casting another to combat their effect. Maddy judged that
T
ý
r
might break through Lucky’s defense, revealing whatever he was hiding. Of course, it did depend to some extent on the strength of his glam, but Maddy had the advantage, and surely now his resistance must be at its lowest.

Taking care not to disturb the sleeper, she stood up and silently cast the rune. Then, with a sudden push, she set it to work.

His charm flickered but did not fail.

Maddy gave another push and at the same time cast
Bjarkán.
The runes vanished, and Maddy was left looking into a face she had seen once before and which, now that she saw it in its true colors, seemed unexpectedly familiar.

His Aspect had not been greatly altered. He had much the same coloring and build, although he was a little taller. But he was older than he had first seemed, and even in sleep, there was less innocence in his features, more guile. There were marks too, which had not been there earlier: a runemark—

—
Kaen,
reversed, on his bare arm—and now she saw that his mouth was crisscrossed with fine, pale scars, too regular to be accidental.

Maddy dropped her hand to her side. Too late now she understood everything, too late she remembered what Sugar had said, too late remembered One-Eye’s words.

A…friend
, he had told her,
turned traitor in the Winter War. I thought he was dead, and maybe he is, but his kind have nine lives, and he always was—

“Lucky,” whispered Maddy, turning pale.

“That’s right,” said Lucky, opening his fiery eyes. “But you can call me Captain.”

6

He moved fast—very fast for a man just waking from a deep sleep. But to Maddy’s surprise, he did not attempt to strike at her, but simply leaped toward the mouth of the cave, so that the mindbolt she flung at him smashed against the wall, dislodging a shower of rock fragments as it did so.

She raised her hand again, moving to the cave entrance to block his escape. This time Lucky did not attempt to run but, with a curious rapid flick of his fingers, summoned the rune
Kaen
and cast it—not at Maddy, but at
himself
—and vanished, or so she thought, leaving only a thin gunpowder trail of fire where he had been standing, a trail that now moved swiftly toward the cave mouth.

The violet signature went with it, and in that instant Maddy summoned
Logr
—Water—and shot it at the fire trail, stopping it short and charging the air with thick steam.

In a second Lucky was back, soaking wet and gasping.

Logr
trembled once more at Maddy’s fingertips, ready to strike. Slowly, hands raised, Lucky got up.

“Try that again and I’ll kill you,” she said.

“Hold it, Maddy; I thought we were friends.”

“No friend of mine,” said Maddy. “You lied.”

Lucky pulled a face. “Well, of course I lied. What did you expect? You creep up on me, you whack me in the face with something that feels like a combination sledgehammer and lightning bolt, you interrogate me, and then—then you just happen to mention that you’re big friends with One-Eye, of all people…”

“So I was right,” she said. “Who are you?”

He had dropped his disguise, standing before her in his true Aspect. Once again Maddy thought he looked familiar, although she was sure she had never met him before. In a story, perhaps, or a picture from One-Eye’s books. But she knew him, she was sure of it; she knew those eyes.

“Listen. I know you don’t trust me. But there are a lot of things One-Eye hasn’t told you. Things I can help you with.”

“Who are you?” she demanded again.

“A friend.”

“No, you’re not,” said Maddy. “You’re the one I was warned about. The thief. The one who’s after the Whisperer.”

“Thief?” He laughed. “Maddy, I have as much right to the Whisperer as anyone else—more right than some, as a matter of fact.”

“Then why did you lie to me?”

“Ask yourself rather—why did
he
lie to you?”

“This isn’t about One-Eye,” she said.

“Isn’t it?” Lucky’s gaze was difficult to hold; his voice low and oddly persuasive. “He knew I’d be here,” he said. “Ask yourself why. And as for the Whisperer—you’ve still no idea what it is, have you?”

Slowly Maddy shook her head.

“Or what it does?”

Again she shook her head.

Lucky laughed. It was a light and pleasant sound, instantly likeable, irresistibly contagious. Maddy found herself grinning back before she realized the trick. She was being charmed.

“Stop that,” she said sharply, casting
ýr
with her fingers.

Lucky looked unrepentant. Even behind the protection rune there was something in his smile that invited a response.

“I know you,” she said slowly. “And One-Eye knows you too.”

Lucky nodded. “Told you I was a traitor, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And that I turned my coat when the war turned against him?”

Again Maddy nodded.

Oh, there was definitely something familiar about him, something she knew she ought to remember. She struggled with the thought, but Lucky was still speaking, his voice soft and compelling.

“All right,” he said. “Just listen to this. It’s something I’ll bet old One-Eye
hasn’t
told you.” Now his grin was hard and metallic, and in the dark his eyes gleamed fire green and subtle. “Get this, Maddy,” he said. “We’re brothers.”

Maddy’s eyes grew very wide.

“Brothers in blood, sworn to each other. You know what that means, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“And yet he was willing to break his oath—betray his brother—for the sake of his cause, his war, his power. What kind of loyalty is that, do you think? And do you really think a man who can sacrifice his brother would think twice about sacrificing
you
?”

Now Maddy felt as if she were drowning. The words flowed over her and she found herself drawn in, helpless. But even as she struggled against the charm, there came once more that little sting of recognition, the feeling that if only she could remember
why
she knew him, then everything else would fall into place.

Think, Maddy, think
.

Once more she drew the protective charm.
ýr
lit at her fingertips, dimming the persuasive glamour of
Kaen.

Think, Maddy. Think.

That voice. Those eyes. The silvery crisscross of scars over his lips, as if long ago, someone, armed with something very sharp…

And now at last it came to her: the old tale of how the Trickster had challenged the Tunnel Folk—the master forgers, Ivaldi’s sons—to a test of skill and had wagered his head in return for their treasures and lost. But even as they made to cut it off, he had cried,
The head is yours, but not the neck!
—and so, outwitting them, escaped with the prize.

At that, the dwarves, enraged at the deception and bent on revenge, had sewn up Loki’s mouth, and from that day forth his smile had been as crooked as his thoughts.

Loki. The Trickster. How could she have missed it? She knew him so well by reputation, had seen his face in a dozen books. One-Eye had given her what warning he could; even Sugar had called him Crookmouth. And the biggest clue was right there on his arm.

Kaen
. The fire rune. Reversed.

“I know you,” said Maddy. “You’re—”

“What’s a name?” Loki grinned. “Wear it like a coat; turn it, burn it, throw it aside, and borrow another. One-Eye knows; you should ask
him.
”

“But Loki died,” she said, shaking her head. “He died on the field at Ragnarók.”

“Not quite.” He pulled a face. “You know, there’s rather a lot the Oracle didn’t foretell, and old tales have a habit of getting twisted.”

“But in any case, that was centuries ago,” said Maddy, bewildered. “I mean—that was the End of the World, wasn’t it?”

“So?” said Loki impatiently. “It isn’t the first time the world has come to an end, and it won’t be the last, either. Thor’s beard, Maddy, didn’t One-Eye teach you
anything
?”

“But that would make you—” said Maddy, perplexed. “I mean, the Seer-folk—the Æsir, I mean, weren’t they—the
gods
?”

Loki waved his hand dismissively. “Gods? Don’t let
that
impress you. Anyone can be a god if they have enough worshipers. You don’t even have to have powers anymore. In my time I’ve seen theater gods, gladiator gods, even
storyteller
gods, Maddy—you people see gods everywhere. Gives you an excuse for not thinking for yourselves.”

“But I thought—”

“
God
’s just a word, Maddy. Like
Fury.
Like
demon.
Just words people use for things they don’t understand. Reverse it and you get
dog.
It’s just as appropriate.”

“What about One-Eye?” said Maddy, frowning. “If he’s your
brother
”—her mouth dropped as she remembered yet another of those old stories—“then that would make
him
—”

“That’s right,” said Loki with his crooked smile. “The Allfather. The General. Old Odin himself.”