Seized

by Lynne Cantwell

  “What need have you for this land?” Looks Far asked. His voice, too, had changed – it now sounded gruff, almost rusty. “This land is sacred to My people. You have no right to take it from them and destroy it.”

  “This land holds power!” Loki cried. “Power which You and your people refuse to use! Below the surface lie substances which my dwarves can use to create weaponry such as this world has never seen! With it, we shall be victorious!”

  Substances of power? I thought. And then I remembered: gold, silver, even uranium had long been mined in Colorado. Was there a seam of uranium under Looks Far’s home? Did Loki have the knowledge to fashion a nuclear device? Or perhaps something worse?

  There was coal beneath these mountains, too. Power indeed, for whatever armament Loki intended to bring to the final battle. No wonder Brock was pissed at Durant; he was screwing up Loki’s plans for world annihilation – all because of some crow feathers and cornmeal.

  And no wonder Loki was pissed at Joseph, who had scared Durant into backing down.

  The Giant’s eyes – vast pits of nothingness – had been trained on Joseph as he spoke. Now, with a cunning grin, his form seemed to melt. My stomach lurched as, in an eyeblink, Loki assumed the shape of a wolf and lunged at Joseph.

  But Coyote was a Trickster, too, and was ready for him. Joseph swiftly changed into a bear and, which a single swipe of a massive paw, knocked Loki away. The wolf regained his feet instantly and launched himself at the bear again, but transformed in midair into a boa constrictor. The snake’s head passed over one massive ursine shoulder, and the creature used its momentum to whip its tail over the other shoulder so it could wrap its coils about the bear’s neck.

  But there was nothing to wrap around. The bear had changed into a frog and hopped nimbly out of the way, as the snake landed in an ignominious heap.

  The goddess’s fingers dug into my shoulders, pulling my attention away from the battle. “You must end this,” she growled close to my ear. “I gave you the power.”

  “Me?” I cried, pulling away from her. “You want me to mediate this?”

  Hissing, the snake untied itself and began to slither after the frog, tumbling itself into a fox as it went. I shrieked as the fox’s jaws began to close around the frog. But now the fox had a mouthful of angry bobcat. The combatants sprang apart and began to circle, eyes locked, each waiting for an opening.

  “Naomi!” Blood Clot Boy pleaded. “He’ll kill Joseph!”

  The ‘cat growled low in its throat. The fox barked once and crouched, ready to spring.

  “Stop fighting!” I yelled, pushing with everything I had.

  It worked. Or at least, they both paused to look at me.

  “Good,” I said, still pushing. “Now change back into your normal forms.” Normal, giggled the part of my brain that was still on the verge of hysteria. I kill myself sometimes.

  The fox expanded and resumed Loki’s blond hair and bulk. The bobcat rolled up on its hind legs and became Coyote/Joseph.

  “All the way,” I said sternly to Joseph. Shrugging, he complied.

  During the seconds it took for the shapeshifters to become their usual selves, I was undergoing a metamorphosis of my own. I tamped down my confusion, panic and fear, then mentally put them in a strongbox and turned the key. Shannon had told me those dark emotions gained power when locked away, and I knew she was right about that. So I promised myself I would take them out and enjoy them later. Right now, I didn’t have time.

  Then I pulled out my professional mediator demeanor and put it on. It was comfortable and familiar, like a second skin, and immediately I felt calmer and more in control. This might work, I reflected. As long as I can stay focused. I knew that if I remembered I was dealing with two Trickster gods, I was sunk. Gods, spirits, aliens from outer space – whatever they are, they need my help. I’ve dealt with the powerful before. Their disputes are as petty and self-serving as anyone else’s.

  I’ve got a job to do. Time to do it.

  “All right, gentlemen,” I said. “Let’s lay some ground rules, shall we? First and foremost, we are going to discuss this as mature adults. No more fighting. And no tricks.” I emphasized each of my commands with a push. It seemed to work. Joseph and Loki kept a wary eye on each other, but neither showed any signs of dissembling or aggression.

  I turned to Blood Clot Boy and White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman. “You, too,” I told them.

  The goddess’s triumphant smile vanished. “What?” she cried indignantly. “You dare to presume — ?”

  “You bet Your ass I do. You gave me the power,” I reminded her. “But you put no strictures on its use. If you want me to succeed, then everyone here must participate. Everyone. Even you.” I looked around the group and fixed a calm, pleasant smile on my face. “Let’s all have a seat.”

  Blood Clot Boy nodded silently and sank, cross-legged, to the ground. Joseph and Loki did the same. Somewhat ungraciously, White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman joined them, tucking Her feet to one side.

  I plopped down last. “Good,” I said again. “Now, each person will get a turn to speak. Then I will summarize what I have heard. Please do not interrupt anyone else – wait until your turn. Agreed?”

  Blood Clot Boy held something out to me. “I would like for us to use this,” He said. “It’s what the white man would call a peace pipe. Whoever holds the pipe has the right to speak.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Is that agreeable to everyone?”

  Heads nodded all around the circle, although the Giant rolled his eyes.

  “I will start,” the goddess said, taking the proffered pipe from Blood Clot Boy and lighting it with a snap of Her fingers. She puffed several times, blew the smoke out of Her mouth and nose, and then sat meditatively for a few moments. Then She looked around the circle with an earnest expression. “Loki is correct,” She began. “What his people call Ragnarok is beginning. Other peoples have different names for it. Christians, for example, call it the Apocalypse, and fear it.” She nodded at me.

  “But not all peoples view time as linear,” She went on. “Many see it as a Wheel. One era is simply followed by another. That is Our belief. Time will not end when this present era draws to a close; things will merely change.

  “My goal, simply stated, is to make the next era a better one than this.” She passed the pipe to Blood Clot Boy and bowed her head.

  He puffed in meditation for a few moments, then said, “I have but one goal as well, and that is to protect My people. I charged them with the stewardship of this land. But the whites have blocked my people’s mission and have exploited the land for their own use, polluting it, making it unfit for any life.” He puffed on the pipe again. “My people have watched and waited, and taken advantage of opportunities as they were presented to us. Now this sacred land is once again under our stewardship. We will not give it up so easily a second time.” Brows knitted, he passed the pipe to Loki.

  The pipe looked like a piece of straw in the Giant’s hand. I held my breath, half afraid he would snap it, either accidentally or deliberately. But he put it to his lips and puffed. “Good tobacco,” he told Blood Clot Boy, who bowed in acknowledgement. I began to breathe again.

  Loki said to the goddess, “What You say is true. Ragnarok has begun. I must lead my people into war. The final battle will be grim. Many will die. Yggdrasil will fall.” He paused, passing the pipe idly from hand to hand. “I would be as strong as it is possible for me to be. That means having the most effective weapon ever created under my control. The raw materials for such a weapon lie beneath Your land,” he nodded at Blood Clot Boy. “I understand the meaning of sanctity, and I would not violate it, were the stakes not so high. I would not…” He paused, then went on in a strangled tone, “I would have things end differently this time. I would prefer not to spend another eternity in a cave, bound with my own son’s entrails.”

  This time? I must have gasped, for he looked at me. The dark pits of his eyes roiled. “Yes, Ragnar
ok has happened before. And it will happen again, years hence. Time is a Wheel for our folk, too.” He looked back at the pipe and sighed. “I would that the Wheel turned a different way this time. But I worry that it is not possible.” He held the bowl of the pipe in one huge hand and passed it, stem first, to Joseph.

  I watched Joseph as he placed the pipe to his lips and inhaled, then let the smoke out in a whoosh. “My goal,” he said, and stopped. Then he looked at me, amber eyes alight. “I have no goal,” he said softly. “I have a job. I have been charged with Guarding Naomi, who is the Chosen One, and I will do it with my last breath.” My own breath caught. Then Joseph turned to Loki. “I don’t know what you had in mind when you told Brock to stick close to her,” he said, “but know this: I will not allow her to be hurt.” His voice had the rough, guttural quality I associated with Coyote.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman’s fierce, proud grin.

  Loki held out his hand for the pipe, and Joseph handed it over. “I never intended to hurt her. Nor do I now. My intention….” He paused; I could see him struggle, debating how much of his plotting to reveal. “Her importance had been revealed to me,” he went on, somewhat mysteriously. “My intention was to win her to my cause.”

  Not a snowball’s chance in Hel, I thought. Suddenly I was absurdly grateful for White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman’s intervention in my life.

  Loki shrugged. “I would not have come forward now, but for the matter of the trick you played on Leo.” Unexpectedly, he grinned. “That was nicely done, by the way.”

  Joseph grinned back, one professional to another. Loki offered him the pipe again, but Joseph waved it off; he had said all he meant to say. So the Giant handed it to me.

  I took the pipe with some trepidation; I’ve never been a smoker. But when in Rome, as they say. I took a tentative puff or two, just for show, while I organized my thoughts. Then I put the pipe in my lap and gazed around the circle. “Good,” I said. “Thank you all for your cooperation. I am much more hopeful now that we can come to an agreement than I was when we began.

  “It seems to me that you are not very far apart on the basics. Each of you is dissatisfied with some things that have happened in our current era, and would like to see things change next time around. And we’re agreed that there will be a next time around, which is a big deal,” I said with a grin. “That time is not linear would have been a huge concession for some people.

  “Now here is what I’ve heard. Blood Clot Boy would like to keep Looks Far’s land intact. He and White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman both want more respect for Their peoples. Loki wants more respect for himself. Does that sum things up?” I looked around the circle for affirmation, and each person nodded in turn. Then I said, “Good. I wonder whether we could find a way for each of You to have what You want.”

  Normally, at this point in the discussion, I would solicit solutions to the problem, no matter how crazy, and write them on a chalk board. Back in the conference room, there was a white board, but I had no idea how to bring it here, or how to transport the discussion back there. So I had to be content with using my finger in the dirt.

  “Can you think of any way,” I asked Blood Clot Boy, “that Loki could get what he needs without defiling the cliff top?”

  The god considered the question, then shrugged. “He could make his mine shaft longer,” He said. “Begin it farther away, and make the slope more gradual.”

  I handed the pipe to White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman and printed “Longer mine shaft” in the middle of the circle.

  “He could dig somewhere else,” Joseph suggested, cutting a look at Loki. I cut a look of my own at Joseph, but wrote that down, too.

  “He could develop a different weapon,” the goddess said.

  “I am all ears,” Loki told her.

  “You could join with us,” she returned promptly. “The sheer force of will of all the world’s gods and goddesses, brought to bear on your enemies, could turn the tide.”

  The cunning look was back on Loki’s face. “You and all the other gods would fight Odin with me?”

  She laughed. “No, probably not. But I might send Naomi to negotiate a peace treaty among you.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “One miracle at a time, please.” I wrote “Different weapon” and “New allies” in the dirt. Then I straightened up. “Anything else? Going once, going twice?” Hearing nothing, I resumed my seat at the edge of the circle. “Now comes the hard part,” I said. “Of the ideas I’ve written down in front of you, which do you think would be the most fair to everyone?”

  Silence.

  “Should we pass the pipe again?” I asked.

  Loki fidgeted. “No,” he said with a sigh. “I will suggest a plan.”

  “I am all ears,” Blood Clot Boy said.

  “I will look for another sort of weapon for my people, or another source for the materials I need,” Loki said, “with the understanding that if neither may be found, I may come back to you with another proposal for mining the substances beneath your land.”

  “A proposal that would not desecrate the cliff top,” Blood Clot Boy amended.

  “Of course,” Loki said.

  “And I,” White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman said, “will speak to the gods about your predicament. You shall not have to go through Ragnarok alone again.” Loki gave her a grateful smile. “But,” the goddess said, “I would like to extract a promise from you that you will help Us in Our quest to rein in Jehovah.”

  “Gladly,” Loki said, the conniving look back. “In fact, I have one or two ideas already.”

  “Then we are done,” White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman said. “Now we pass the pipe again.” She took a long drag and let it out slowly, eyes closed in enjoyment. Then she passed it to me, patting my leg with pride. I took a shallow puff and gave the pipe to Joseph. So it went, backwards around the circle. When it got to Blood Clot Boy, he took a long pull…

  …and as the nondescript clearing faded out, the conference room faded back in. I blinked and glanced around quickly. Joseph was Joseph; Looks Far was Looks Far; and both White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman and the mountainous shadow surrounding Brock were gone.

  I glanced at Joseph with raised eyebrows: Did that really happen? In reply, he grinned and squeezed my forearm. Yes, he seemed to say, and you were terrific. I felt my face grow warm, and turned my focus back to the meeting we had ducked out of.

  Apparently our mediation session had lasted only a second or two of real time. Leo still stood frozen, thanks to the competing commands Brock/Loki and I had given him. Leo’s eyes had begun to bulge under the strain, and his jaw twitched. But his hands were still poised to begin ripping the sales contract to shreds.

  “My point,” Brock said, picking up right where we had ducked out, “is that I believe my client is being coerced. In fact, I believe my client is the victim of an Indian curse.”

  Charlie, bless him, didn’t even glance Joseph’s way. “Oh?” he asked. “What sort of curse?”

  I assumed an expression of extreme interest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joseph bend his head forward, suddenly intent on studying the back of one hand.

  Brock said, “On the past three mornings, upon arising, Mr. Durant has found corn pollen and feathers in his hotel room.”

  “I see,” Charlie said. “I assume he didn’t place them there himself.”

  “He did not,” Brock confirmed. “Leo, please sit down.”

  Leo sat. He still held the document. His eyes were definitely bulging now.

  “And what makes Mr. Durant believe that corn pollen and feathers would be the components of an…Indian curse, did you say?” Charlie inquired.

  Leo burst out, “Because that Indian told me so!”

  “Well, whoever this mysterious Indian was,” I put in, “he must have been misinformed.” I turned to my former fiancé. “Brock, remember the trip we took to the Navajo reservation a few years ago? Our guide told us corn pollen is sacred. It
couldn’t be used for evil. Don’t you remember that?”

  Brock nodded silently, his mouth set in a line.

  “That’s right,” Charlie chimed in. “Mr. Durant, where in your room was the corn pollen placed?”

  He eyed Charlie suspiciously, but he responded. “There was one line across the threshold and another along the windowsill.”

  “Well, there you are,” Charlie said, spreading his hands wide. “Whoever put that corn pollen there was blessing the window and doorway, not cursing it. Sounds to me like they were showing you the way out of this mess.”

  I glanced sideways at Joseph. His head was still bowed, but he was looking up through his eyelashes, watching Brock.

  Leo turned to Perry and said miserably, “I haven’t slept in days. I just want to go home.”

  That was my cue. “Tear up the contract, Leo,” I said, with a gentle push.

  He looked at me almost gratefully and let it rip before Brock could say another word. In seconds, the conference room table was covered in bits of paper.

  “Now, please shake hands with Charlie,” I pushed again. “And then I think we’re done here.”

  Hands were shaken all around. Then Leo fairly shoved Brock out the door in front of him. Brock glanced back at me and glared. His alter ego was back, hovering around him as if the flesh-and-blood Brock were the tiny figure inside a nesting doll.

  Joseph shifted in his chair. I saw Brock’s hulking shadow turn toward Joseph. Then Joseph flashed the two of them a big Coyote grin. The shadow seemed to raise a hand in salute, one professional to another. But Brock’s expression turned murderous as Durant chivvied him out, saying, “Holt, get me on the first plane out of this cow town.”

  As soon as the door shut behind them, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. It occurred to me that I’d won twice in the space of ten minutes. I felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.