“Thanks. I make my own, you know.”
Then we were tumbling through Dream, I still clad in Jumps’s skin, Gullveig-Heid discorporate, Jonathan Gift clinging on for dear life, and the next thing I knew was her voice in my ear, saying, “Right. So what’s the real plan?”
3.
I assumed an air of innocence. My being in the flesh meant that Heidi could not easily see the thread of deceit in my colours.
“What d’you mean, the real plan?”
“I mean, I don’t buy your story,” she said. “Why aren’t you in your true Aspect? Why have you brought this useless human body with you instead? You’re up to no good, and you’re hiding it. And where’s Thor?”
I shrugged Jumps’s shoulders. “He got left behind.”
“Or maybe you just ditched him in Dream. Maybe he was onto you. Maybe you’re playing a double game. What’s the plan? Divide and rule? Or are you working for Odin?”
“You should know me better,” I said, glancing back at Jonathan Gift. “Why should I want to help Odin? I haven’t got where I am today without two things: self-interest and self-preservation. Would I really risk my skin—to which I’m rather partial, even though technically it belongs to someone else—to help anyone other than myself?”
“You came in corporeal Aspect,” she said. “I can see only one reason for that. You mean to take the Head for yourself. It’s impossible, but clearly you think it’s an option. You think that in your borrowed flesh, you can outwit the Temptress.” She smiled, and it was like looking into a golden furnace. “Coming from somebody else,” she said, “that would look stupid and naïve. Coming from you, I’m thinking maybe you have something up your sleeve.”
I shrugged. “If I’d wanted the Oracle, I wouldn’t have thrown it off Bif-rost. And as for Odin—I don’t owe him a thing. He betrayed me. Remember? And on that subject, I’m curious. How did you manage to draw his teeth? I’ve never seen the Old Man so compliant. What have you got that he wants so much?”
Heidi said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I grinned. “I’m always up for ways to score one off the General. Whatever it is, you’ve got him good. What is it? His spear? His ravens? His hat?”
Heidi gave a girlish laugh. Out of her human Aspect and in her natural form, the sound of her laughter was terrible, like a cascade of molten gold pouring down onto my head. “Something far more important,” she said. “He was always sentimental. And when I told him my people hadn’t fallen at Ragnarók, but instead lay sleeping under the ice, awaiting their true destiny—”
I feigned surprise. “Your people?”
She shrugged. “The Vanir were never his folk,” she said. “That alliance was born of treachery. Odin used my father simply to help him steal their runes. But the Vanir were never his to command. They followed him out of self-interest. And if a real leader had come along—a leader who was one of them, with the strength and the vision to lead them, instead of that perennial con artist who calls himself the General . . .”
So, I thought. The story was true. Asgard!™ had predicted as much, along with the rise of the old gods and the rebuilding of Asgard itself. A strange, but compelling, thought began to formulate in my mind. If Asgard!™ had been right about the Vanir, what else might the game have foreseen? What other predictions might be contained in that strange little virtual World?
“The Vanir?” I said. “You mean they’re alive? Njörd, and Idun, and Freyja, and Frey? Bragi? That bastard Heimdall? The guy who killed me at Ragnarók? You’re telling me he’s still alive?”
Heidi smiled. “I have no reason to doubt it,” she said. “Although I believe Odin’s interests lie in another direction.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Freyja.”
Heidi looked amused. Here, in Dream, her true Aspect was both glorious and disquieting. All black and gold, with eyes like flame, and skin like smooth obsidian. And yet, if you’d put her side by side with the Goddess of Desire, you might have imagined them to be twins. Both of them had that dangerous gleam, a glamour that went far beyond mere physical attraction. I’m not immune to it myself, but Odin was worse; he knew what Freyja was like, and yet he couldn’t keep away from her.
“That’s Desire for you,” she said. “Blind in one eye and unable to see from the other.” She smiled her golden smile. “And yet, it’s ironic, isn’t it, that the man who built the Worlds could still be so weak, so fallible, as to fall for the oldest trick in the history of trickery?”
I shrugged. “It’s a good trick. I’ve used it myself.”
“And fallen for it too,” she said with a gleam of amusement.
“Whatever,” I said. “That’s all in the past. Unless—” I gave her a sidelong glance. “Unless it isn’t. Is it? No.” I shook away the thought of us together again, as we had been in those dark and glorious days. That was her glamour talking, and I wasn’t about to be suckered, the way Odin had been.
“Tell me Odin’s plan,” I said. “Seeing that he doesn’t seem to have felt the need to share it with me.”
“I don’t suppose he did,” she said. “He only wanted to use you. All he needed was your blood, to awaken Sleipnir. After that, he was planning to pull Thor and Freyja out of Dream, via the funny little World contained within a computer game. Of course, that’s how I was able to make him think I was Freyja—at least for long enough for me to find myself a host body suitable for my needs. After that, he was easy enough to seduce. With my father’s Head, and the new runes, and with the awakened Vanir back under his command, I let him believe he might have a chance to regain what he’d lost—to build a new Asgard, to rule once again.” She gave her tinkling, terrible laugh. “But that won’t happen. I’d rather see the Vanir dead than under his command once more. And, of course, I know where they are.”
“You do?”
“Because I put them there.”
Of course she did. It made sense now. Heidi, working for Chaos, casting a final web of runes as Surt’s shadow fell on the Worlds, locking her people under the ice that fell in the wake of the Winter War. Had she meant, even then, to revive them some day? Was this part of her greater plan? Or had it been some unexpected sentimental impulse?
Heidi smiled. Her Aspect was now less terrible, closer to the Aspect in which she had seduced and betrayed me. In this form, with her jet-black skin, and hair as gold as the sunrise, I could remember why I had been so ready to join the renegades, so blinded with lust and rage that I had failed to see how she was using me.
“We were so good together,” she said, touching my corporeal lips with her ephemeral fingers. “We could be good together again. I was sorry you had to fall. It wasn’t my decision. But with my father’s Head, and the runes, and the Vanir awakened and under my rule, maybe we could be friends again. Maybe even more than friends.”
There’s a reason they called her the Temptress. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t briefly tempted. But I could see what she meant to do: lure me out of my borrowed flesh, perhaps to glimpse my colours. And this time, I wasn’t playing her game, although she was still alluring. I said, “I know how you treat your friends. I’m not about to go there again.”
“Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Did poor little Loki think that I would give up my ambitions for him?” She laughed. “You’re so sentimental. You need to lighten up. We had fun, didn’t we? And I never promised you eternal loyalty. In fact, my dear, as I recall, I never promised you anything.”
That was true, I told myself. I’d been so grateful for my release from torment (plus there was the delirium of corporeal sex, wine, jam tarts, and all the pleasures she offered me) that I’d somehow omitted to engage my natural defences. I’d made an assumption—a mistake that I had paid for dearly.
“Bygones,” I said. “No hard feelings.”
“No?”
“Well, maybe a few,” I said. “But you have the advantage of being a lot smarter than Odin—as well as being far more attractive. Let’s dance.”
/> She gave me a look that in the corporeal World would have ignited paper. She said, “I’d trust you a whole lot more if you slipped out of that body. Why are you wearing it, anyway? You’d look a lot better without it. I mean, I like you as a girl, but as a boy you were fabulous.”
“I will,” I said. “Just as soon as you tell me where that bastard is sleeping.”
“You mean Heimdall?”
“Who else?”
She looked at me. “And why would you want to know that?”
I laughed. “Maybe I want to wake him up with a runny egg and some toast soldiers.”
“You’d kill him in his sleep?”
“Well, duh. What, did you think I’d leave him there? After all he’s put me through?”
Heidi smiled. “No, I don’t think you would.”
“So tell me. Better still, show me. Show me, and I’ll finish him. Odin’s right hand man, the one person who would have challenged you. Let me finish him for you, and the rest of the Vanir will follow you.”
She gave me a supercilious look. “I don’t need your help,” she said. “I can deal with him myself.”
“Yes, of course,” I told her. “But if you kill Heimdall, you’ll always be the one who killed one of your own to take power. That’s what Odin did, and look how it worked out for him. Odin knew that sometimes a god has to keep the moral high ground whilst controlling the moral low ground. That’s why he enlisted me. And that’s why you’re going to do the same.”
For a long time, Heidi looked at me. Then she said, “You may have a point. I’ll give you Heimdall as soon as you give me my father’s Head. Is that a deal?”
I nodded, secretly gnashing my teeth. I could see clearly now why Odin had been so reluctant to tell me about Gullveig-Heid. He must have known I’d feel strongly about the prospect of my old enemy snoring away under the ice while the Aesir suffered in Netherworld. But Heidi knew my value, I hoped—at least for as long as it suited her. After that, I sensed that she might wish to reconsider my continued survival.
We were approaching the bubble-World in which I had left Jumps (and Thor). The Oracle’s colours were brighter here, shooting bright bursts of luminescence into the turbulent current. I held onto Sleipnir’s bridle, guiding him, and then we were back in the Architect’s dream: the cathedral, the Machina Brava, the crystal dome that engulfed the sky . . .
“What are we doing here?” Heidi said. “Is my father in this World?”
But I was already looking for Jumps. She was there, but tiny now, no more than four years old, tucked into herself like a flower bud at the base of one of those columns of stone, as if she had made every effort to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Thor was there too, in Aspect, though dwarfed by his surroundings. On seeing me, his face did a number of things, most of them contradictory.
I took a moment to acknowledge that Thor wasn’t having the best of times. Trapped—first of all in Asgard!™, then in the Aspect of a small dog, and now in the dream of a creature who should have been dead when the Vanir cut off his head nearly a thousand years ago—well, that kind of thing puts a strain on a man, and Thor was not the most patient of men. He looked like a thunder god desperately on the lookout for something to hit, and by the way his eyes lit up, I could tell he wanted it to be me.
Of the Oracle there was no sign.
I looked back at Thor. “Just listen,” I said. “In a minute you’re going to understand why all this is happening. When you do, I’ll need you to do something. Something that might not be easy.”
The Thunderer made a derisive sound. “What’s that?”
“I’ll need you to trust me,” I said. Then, turning to Jumps, I said, “Wake up. It’s me.”
The little girl looked up. I could see, first, confusion in her face, and then, at last, recognition. “Loki?” she said. “You brought—me!”
I smiled. “Just take my hand.”
She did. For a moment we were together again, at one and filled with power. I sent her everything—a plan, a warning, a riddle, and a set of instructions—and then I stepped out into Dream and gave her control of the body. It felt like taking off a coat moulded to my contours. I doubted I’d ever wear it again, and, given what she had put me through, the thought was surprisingly painful.
Jumps looked at me with a brilliant smile. I’d thought her passable enough, but the smile made her suddenly beautiful, and I wondered if she’d ever smiled like that when I was in her.
“I knew you’d do the right thing,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t leave a friend.”
Which made me feel even worse, as I knew precisely what I was planning to do, and it didn’t feel great, but what choice did I have? My options weren’t what you’d call endless.
Gullveig-Heid gave me a sideways look. “That’s why you brought the body?” she said. “To bring your host with you into Dream?”
“So shoot me,” I said. “I’ve grown fond of her.”
Heidi looked amused. “It seems a little self-indulgent to me. But each to his own, am I right?”
I shrugged my ephemeral shoulders and kept my expression neutral. I knew I was under scrutiny, and that here in this Aspect, Heidi would notice the slightest disturbance in my colours. But I hoped that the natural agitation of learning that Heimdall was still alive, as well as the hellride through Dream, would account for any unusual activity in my colouration. Of course, if it didn’t, I was toast. But I counted on my expertise in all forms of deception to keep the game up for just a little while longer.
Jonathan Gift dismounted and looked around at the great glass dome. “Gods,” he said. “I had no idea my plans could be so beautiful.”
Heidi gave him a look. “Your plans?”
Jonathan nodded happily. “I used to read about the old gods. I read of their adventures, their wars—but what I really wanted to know was the secret of how they built it.”
“Built what?”
“The Sky Citadel. Of course, it fell long before I was born. But there were so many stories. Bif-rost, the Rainbow Bridge. Valhalla, the Hall of Heroes. Every god and goddess with their own hall. Odin’s high seat, from which he could see the whole of the Worlds in the blink of an eye. The hanging gardens, the golden stairs, the great Wall, the mighty gates. And all of it suspended in the clouds, like the most beautiful of all dreams.”
“Not all of us had a hall,” I said, but Jonathan Gift wasn’t listening.
“I knew their secret lay with the runes. But runes are just equations. Mathematical symbols. Symbols that, with the right knowledge, can reveal the secrets of the Nine Worlds.”
“Did my father teach you this?” said Heidi. “Is my father here?”
But before Jonathan could answer, suddenly we were no longer alone. At the far end of the great hall, by the Machina Brava, stood a figure I had seen before, standing taller than any giant, its head in the silvery haze of the dome, its great feet cracking the floor tiles. It looked down at Heidi with no apparent interest or recognition.
“Father. It’s me,” said Heidi.
I noticed her Aspect had changed in this dream; like Jumps, she looked younger, more vulnerable. Could this be the Oracle’s influence? Could it be that Gullveig-Heid was intimidated by a fatherly presence?
The Oracle ignored her. “Where’s Odin?” it said, scanning our party for what it sought. Flesh is in no way a perfect disguise, but I felt naked without it, fully aware that my unease was visible in my colours.
But Heidi wasn’t watching me. Instead, she addressed the Oracle. “Father,” she said. “I seek guidance. Will you give me your Prophecy?”
For a moment the Oracle looked down at the tiny figures at its feet. Then it laughed, and waved a hand around the giant cathedral. “All this is My Prophecy,” it said in a voice like an avalanche. “A monument to My greatness, built from the ashes of Asgard. Built from the timbers of Yggdrasil, it will endure. I will endure. And the gods—their stories, even their names—will be erased from history. You’ve
seen it. You know it will happen.” The Oracle looked down expectantly, focusing its eyes on me. “And now, Trickster. Where is the General?”
“Ah. Well. He got left behind,” I said, glancing quickly at Jonathan Gift.
The Oracle’s giant voice took on a dangerously trollish tone. “Really?” it said. “I wonder how? And why have you brought my host into Dream? Were you hoping to use him against me? To make Me prophesy, perhaps? To force Me to give you the new runes?” The Oracle laughed again, and its voice filled the cathedral with thunder. “The new runes are not for you,” it said, “but for the next generation of gods. The children of the Fire, the ones who will build the Worlds anew.”
At this, Heidi’s face lit up. “And I, Father? What about me?”
The Oracle’s laughter redoubled. “The new runes are not for you,” it said. “Of course, I admire your ambition, but frankly, I wouldn’t trust you as far as I would trust a rabid dog.”
Heidi’s eyes went wide at that, and her Aspect dwindled even more, reducing her to an angry child, denied some anticipated treat.
“My daughter,” the Oracle went on. “I hope you know me well enough to understand that I mean you no personal ill. But we are too much alike, you and I. We share a common hunger. We also share a reluctance to share, an admirable self-interest. Just as it was inevitable that Odin’s brothers would one day fall to his growing ambition, I’ve always known that one day, too, both of us would come to this.”
Heidi frowned. “I don’t understand. I sought you out. I found you.”
“But I didn’t ask you to come,” said the Oracle. “My orders were to bring Odin.”
Heidi shot me a glance. “I thought—”
“You thought I might prophesy,” it said. “You were afraid that Odin might learn something to his advantage. And so you defied me—your father—and now you expect a reward?” The voice, already steely, grew sharp. “And as for you, Trickster, what do you think you deserve for this escapade?”
I did not reply. My experience is that my idea of what I deserve doesn’t always coincide with the majority opinion.