Thor came up, stern questions in his eyes. “Those are dangerous words, Leif Svensen. Why?”
Loki spoke quickly into the ear of the black-bearded god, and Thor nodded. “So? Then they are good words. I have little use for a leader who will not fight for his men, even if they’re only dwarfs. Back, all of you—back before I try my hammer on you!”
Leif could see Fulla mixed into the crowd that was watching, her eyes darting toward the entrance and striking his. He tightened his lips and swung back to the cleanup job that was going on. A moment later, he saw her moving off, up the path toward the tree, while the crowd grudgingly moved back to a satisfactory distance.
Vali! It would do no good to confront him, since he was one of Odin’s sons, and Leif had nothing but the word of a dying old dwarf, heard by himself and apparently by Loki. Or had it been only Vali? He’d warned Loki about the danger from a spark here, and Loki had been familiar with what a grenade could do. Leif no longer wanted to distrust the god, but he couldn’t completely forget the legends and the opinions of many here.
“Look!” Loki took his arm, turning him about and pointing. High above, gliding like a vulture, a dim speck showed in the sky. From it came a harsh, mocking cry. “The eagle—and much too big for the height at which he is soaring. It must be a spying giant.”
“Fine,” Leif commented. “At least he knows we have boom stuff now. He didn’t set it off, though. All right, Sudri, carry Andvari’s body back gently. We’ll bury him in whatever rite his people use. Lee, sometimes I’d like to be one of those blooming berserkers. But there’s nothing you can do here, if you’ve got other business.”
“I’m supposed to demonstrate the grenades to the gods,” Lee said. For once, his face was serious, and he tipped his helmet as he passed the body of Andvari. “Let me know if you need help. And if they want, I’d like to attend their rites for him.”
Leif moved back through the caverns, examining the packed grenades that hadn’t gone off. Production had been fine. This was a perfect example of the type of weapon the dwarfs could make, needing only a rough shell, without fine machining. He kicked at a small sack on the floor and swore at its weight. He stooped to examine it just as Sudri came rushing up.
“No!” The dwarf darted under him, waving excited hands. “Bad stuff, boss Leif. It’s okay for dwarfs, but not for humans. That’s the U-235 you ordered. Half a ton. It keeps better in small pieces like this.”
Leif gulped thickly and drew back. “It does, Sudri—it certainly does.”
He should have known better than to try sarcasm on a dwarf; he mentioned the stuff, it was an existent isotope—so here it was. Half a ton of it, probably of perfect purity, in little bags of less than critical mass. How did the dwarfs know that? And knowing it, what did the gods need of humans to show them how to beat the Ragnarok? Then he realized that the gods would never think of seeking advice from a dwarf. And even knowledge wasn’t necessary here. In gathering it, some dwarf probably had put too much together in one sack. It couldn’t be made to explode by being brought beyond critical mass slowly—but it would begin radiating. Probably the dwarfs would never think of driving two subcritical masses together instantly, before their own heat could boil them away. Only men would have use for such facts. Yet he wasn’t sure. The dwarfs were apparently radiation-immune, but they had been able to see that it was dangerous for men.
He watched them storing it away carefully, then went back to superintend the reconstruction. Idly, he heard the detonation of grenades, and wondered how the gods were impressed by Lee’s display. There were explosions again, followed by a long, sustained yell.
The walls were almost whole once more when Reginleif came toward the caves, stopping well beyond the entrance and announcing herself by a loud halloo.
“Odin demands you at once, Leif Svensen!” she yelled. Her face was stern with disapproval.
Leif shrugged and moved out, with Loki behind him. Now what? They’d probably heard about the tree—unless it was something even worse.
“If I don’t come back, Sudri,” he called, “look me up in Niflheim.”
But it wasn’t a very humorous crack. It had too much probable truth in it.
Chapter XI
There was a dense crowd collected at the judging place before Yggdrasil, and Leif Svensen scanned their expressions, trying to estimate the seriousness of the charges. It didn’t look good. Loki whistled faintly in surprise as he stared at the Aesir, confirming Leif’s fears.
Frigg was speaking to Odin, and her righteousness was all too evident, even from a distance. Beside their father, Vali and Vidarr were nodding vigorously at what she said. Odin’s shoulders were slumped more than usual, but they straightened as he saw Leif coming, and a gesture cut off the words around him. Heimdallr was intently polishing the lens of his new telescope, and his face was totally inscrutable.
Fulla sat at the foot of Frigg’s dais, her face lowered. She glanced up at the stir around her, and her eyes met Leif’s for a moment. Something that might have been the beginning of a wan smile touched her lips, but it vanished as he stared back at her coldly.
Lee Svensen moved promptly to be beside his brother, and Thor lifted his body and followed, holding Rex in one hand, the big hammer in the other. A lithe young husky whom Leif recognized as Thor’s stepson, Ullr, scratched his head and moved doubtfully after them. They lined up beside Leif and Loki.
“Tell them all to go to hell,” Lee whispered.
It was more likely to be the other way, Leif decided. The very face that he was getting such obvious support was welcome—particularly from Thor—but it indicated that the ones rallying to him were sure he was in desperate need of help!
Odin’s voice cut off any chance to ask for information.
“Leif, Son of Sven, a time has come for judging. There is treason in Asgard. I have promised my son Thor that your words shall be heard and justice rendered. But how shall we believe one who is sponsored by Loki as a hero, yet who spends little time on the field where the heroes practice their skills? Nevertheless, speak and defend yourself before we pass judgment against you.”
Thor let out a bellow of indignation, probably provoked by Lee’s quick commentary on the unfairness of the words. But Leif cut in before the god could speak. The sickness of Fulla’s lack of trust, and of Vali’s murder of Andvari was back inside him, and he was tired of bowing to the will of such gods as these.
“With such justice as you offer, Odin, what’s the use of saying anything? When the judge is biased, there is no justice. Well, I’m not surprised. I’ve had one sample of the justice of Asgard this morning. I should have expected something like this. But at least tell me what in hell I’m supposed to have done. If you mean the explosion in the workshop, there —>was treason enough—against me and my workers! On that, you might try cleaning the filth from your own household before you clean outside it.”
He saw Fulla’s eyes wince at the reference to the morning, but he snapped his gaze back quickly to Odin, whose one eye seemed to be shining from a thundercloud. It was no way to address the ruler of the gods, and Odin seemed unable to accept the words as having been spoken. Vali came to his feet, his ferret-face tautening. Leif stared at him, then spat on the ground, and rubbed the spot out with his foot. But the son of Odin only grinned nastily.
“You are accused of trying to destroy the einherjar,” his bland voice announced. “At the accusation of Vidarr and myself. The grenades which you furnished your twin behaved well enough, to be sure. The others were also claimed to be safe when not thrown with the intent to destroy. By good fortune, before it was too late, Vidarr and I decided that a more suitable test was needful. We demanded the right to test other grenades. Behold the result when we threw them at a group of heroes!”
Leif’s eyes followed the pointing finger to a rough cloth upon which a gory mess had been gathered.
Odin took up the tale as Vali dropped back into his seat. “Fifty or more loyal einherjar, Leif, Son o
f Sven! From but two of these creations of yours, thrown by my sons. Nor can all my skill hope to restore them to life again, scattered as they are. Shall we gather at Vigridr for the Ragnarok to find that our weapons remove our heroes, leaving us defenseless before the Sons of the Wolf? Shall we let you continue making devices which are meant to kill at the touch of a hero? Nor does it seem that your treason stops there, from what my ears have but now told me. But speak. We are patient, until judgment is made!”
It was obvious that Vali and Vidarr had willed the grenades to explode, but Odin would never believe in such treachery so close to the throne. Leif turned his eyes to Loki, but the god was staring intently back down the trail toward the shops. Niflheim pressed close, and Leif could feel the sickness that vision had given him before in looking at the distorted world. He turned to Lee, to see his brother holding a single grenade in one hand, doubtfully fingering it as it tried to estimate their chances. It wouldn’t work, Leif knew. Thor was on their side now, but he would certainly permit no such action. Leif was surprised that Thor had not already switched back to Odin.
Still, he eyed the grenade. If he could get it and move back where it wouldn’t hurt his small group of friends, it could at least destroy him so completely that they could never send him to Niflheim. Compared to that place, death would be most pleasant.
He moved slowly toward Lee, facing Odin again. “Why should I scream protests that you’ve already told me you wouldn’t believe? What good would it do? All right, so the grenades wiped out some of your heroes because they were used falsely by your sons. And so I did mess around with that sacred tree of yours, though…”
Full was suddenly erect, screaming something at him, but the clamor of others drowned out her words. Leif slipped the few remaining feet to his brother and reached toward the grenade. Now if he had time to get into clear space…
“More grenades, boss Leif?” Sudri’s voice asked roughly beside him.
He twisted his head to see the dwarfs lined up beside the little group around him. Loki was grinning, rubbing his hand over a grenade, and the dwarfs all held weapons of their own. But before Leif could adjust his mind to the new factor, Loki’s voice cut through the din.
“It would seem that the question is now whether this Leif Svensen can be sent to Niflheim safely, Odin,” he shouted. “There are those present who feel that justice has not yet been rendered, and among them is Oku-Thor himself. You have seen what two of these grenades can do. We have scores of them, and the skill to use them, which it would seem Vali and Vidarrr lacked. Am I right, Thor?”
Thor was troubled, but nonetheless determined. He nodded. “The grenades worked properly when I tried them, as well as Mjollnir itself. Until the facts are entirely clear, and decisions fairly rendered, this man has my protection, Father Odin. I demand true justice.”
Surprisingly, Heimdallr was coming toward them, pulling a huge sword from its scabbard. There was nothing foppish about him now; the softness seemed to have vanished, and the sword was a living thing in his hand. He took his place as far from Loki as he could, but clearly was lining himself up behind Leif.
Fulla had also left the front and was moving to them, but she hesitated, and then sank down again.
“But the tree!” Odin was unused to having his court divided, and uncertain of the menace confronting him. Tradition made no provision for this, and his anger had given place to hurt. Most of the other gods were shifting unhappily about, not knowing what to do. “Thor, you heard him admit to defiling the tree.”
“Then I say send someone to the tree to examine the damage first, and judge later!”
Heimdallr waved his big sword casually. “No need. I’ve been watching the tree through this bit of magic which your warlock rightfully thought useful to only one of my skill.” He pulled the telescope out and stared through it, preening himself a bit as the attention of all focused on him. Leif couldn’t see how his sight could penetrate through the obstacles between him and the tree, or how the telescope could help there; perhaps it was extrasensory sight, and the telescope only helped psychologically. But Heimdallr seemed satisified.
“New shoots come forth and the apples are ripe,” he answered. “It would see that Leif Svensen has certain skills with such affairs.”
Another yell went up from the gods, and the ravens suddenly shot from Odin’s shoulders, darting out toward the tree. Fulla’s face abruptly came to beaming life, and she sprang toward Leif.
He grinned crookedly, thinking that he might have expected this. Now that the weather was clearing, she wanted to be out in the sun. He turned his back on her, facing the forthright figure of Thor.
He wasn’t too surprised when the ravens came back, each with a yellow apple in its beak. They seemed full-sized now, and looked like winter greenings, firm and ready for eating. Time here could do strange things, it seemed, such as compressing the normal process of months into a few hours. By rights, the fruit should have ripened by now—and hence, once given a chance, it was fully ripened now.
Odin took one of the apples, smelled it, and bit into it. He bit again, and ten years seemed to fall from his shoulders. Others were heading toward the apple, but he motioned them back.
“Leif Svensen, you have permission to come forward and stand beside us.”
Vali screamed angrily, but Odin motioned him hotly to silence. Leif was unsure, but Loki’s hand thrust him forward, and he moved up to the seat, mounting the little dais. Odin’s hand reached out with the apple, and there was a clear invitation on the god’s face.
Reaction was hitting Leif, making his legs tremble as he stood there, and the bravado that had somehow lasted through all the danger was gone. But as he managed to control his teeth and bite down on the apple, a sudden raw current of power rushed through him. He swallowed automatically while a warmth and strength diffused over him. He’d doubted the real help of the apples, but he could no longer question it. Whatever they contained, it was powerful stuff, with the feeling of vitality to it.
“For this, Leif Svensen,” Odin told him, “I would gladly forfeit many respects and forgive many acts. The return to us of the power of the tree was no act of treason, nor could a traitor have done it. And because of that, I am moved to accept Loki’s explanation that it was but lack of skill in the hands of my sons which caused the grenades to wreak such evil. Or perhaps the influence of the spying eagle Heimdallr has seen.”
He paused, studying the council, keeping them waiting for their turn at the apples while he considered. At last he sighed. “The matter of some of the Aesir turning away from me is a very grave offense, but there was some justice on their side. We are all overwrought, and even I may have been hasty—as you were in the anger at our distrust. Go back to your work, Leif Svensen, and we shall consider the events of this day to have struck a balance.”
Leif stepped down, considering. But this was no time to press the treason of Vali. He slipped back, letting his eyes flick across Fulla’s face quickly, and rejoined Loki. The god was turning the dwarfs back hastily toward the shop, and Leif realized it might go ill with them if they stayed around to remind the Aesir that they had come out to rescue him. He began leading them off, while the gods clustered around Odin, waiting their turn for the apples. Odin was belatedly being overly fair, making sure that those who had supported Leif Svensen received the same preference as the others.
Chapter XII
Loki joined Leif before he reached the workshop, and Ullr was with him.
“The youngster has brought forth something which is unexpected among the Aesir,” the god announced, grinning. “He has created an idea! And by now, Leif, you know how rare that is, and why I spend so much time with you. Well, out with it, Ullr.”
The young god fondled his bow and furrowed his forehead. “I was thinking that those grenades are good things—but even better would be arrows, made hollow, and with the same stuff inside, to explode as they hit. Could that be done?”
Leif took the arrow he held out
and examined it, surprised that Ullr had developed a second idea—that of making models before he submitted his first idea. This arrow was thicker than most he’d seen, apparently made of some reed and covered with thin gold to give it weight. “Did you test this to see how well this shot?”
“It worked, but I had no explosive.”
The scheme seemed possible. The dwarfs could produce crude sheet metal, and they could even weld it in some mysterious ways. The inside of the arrow wouldn’t have to be perfect for this purpose, provided it was ground straight, and in balance on the outside. Leif passed it to Sudri, who nodded his big head while his mouth opened in a grin that went three-quarters of the way around his neck. He called up the other dwarfs and set them to making such arrows.
Later, Leif watched Ullr go off with Loki to try out the new arrows. Since they wouldn’t explode until wanted, the same ones could be used again and again for target practice. He turned back to his private office, rebuilt and relined by now. On impulse, he stripped his wristwatch off and handed it to Sudri.
“Thanks for coming to help me, Sudri.”
The dwarf gobbled incoherently, strapping the watch onto his thick wrist and listening to it tick. He’d been fascinated by it since he’d first learned its purpose. Leif grinned and shut the door after him.
He picked up the mirror and stared into it, jerking it quickly past his eyes. But even the brief glimpse of Niflheim was too much. Shuddering, he put the mirror away. Well, he’d passed the first crisis, and he knew who his friends were.
Loki apparently could be trusted in a pinch; the trouble was that he was the most intelligent of the gods and the only one with any sense of humor. He preferred with to muscles, and his choice must often have led him into the tricks of which the legends accused him; but it also put him firmly on the side of anyone who could meet with him on the same grounds. Thor was god of absolutes. He could be trusted completely so long as someone didn’t pull the wool over eyes. Ullr was so hopped up on his new invention that he’d go to any lengths, practically, for the man who could get the arrows made for him. And Heimdallr was more or less on Leif’s side—though his foreknowledge of the condition of the tree made his position less certain.
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