Part 2

"You mustn't do that," Kevan said hastily. "The psychiatrists would only pin a label on it which would destroy the morale of our Army. To say nothing to what it would do to the WAC and the WAVE. There must be some other solution."

"No," said Alviss firmly. "My honor is at stake."

"But there must be another way of saving your honor. You look like a reasonable--er--person, Mr. Alviss. I'm sure that between the two of us, we can find a way...."

"Well," said Alviss and there was a shrewd look in his eyes, "perhaps, if you were to bring me Thrud...."

"Thread?" exclaimed Kevan, relief coming with the misunderstanding. "What kind?"

"Not thread," said Alviss. "Thrud. Do you mean, mortal, that you do not know the story of Alviss?"

Kevan shook his head.

"What's your name, mortal?"

"Kevan MacGreene."

"'Tis a good name," said the dwarf.

* * * * *

Alviss sat down on the floor and for the first time his face lost its look of anger. "It was long ago," he said. "More years than you mortals can reckon. But I was an adventurous lad and one night I crossed the bridge Bifrost from Midgard to Asgard. Asgard, you understand, is the land of the old gods, but I was safe there as long as it was dark. While I was there, I met Thrud, only daughter of Thor, god of the yeomen and peasants, dispenser of thunder. Aye, she was beautiful--more beautiful than you'd know, Kevan MacGreene--and I knew she was the lass for Alviss. It seemed that she felt the same way about me, despite the fact that she was three times my height. Hand in hand, we went to see Thor--faith and there's one for whom I would set bear traps every night if he were my father-in-law."

"I gather that he turned you down?" Kevan said.

"Worse," said Alviss. Rage and sorrow intermingled on his face. "By the beard of Daoine Glas, he tricked me. He said that Thrud could marry me and come away if I would answer thirteen questions. Bad cess to him, I agreed. His twelve questions were to give the names for the world, the moon, the sun, the clouds, the wind, the calm, the sea, the trees, the night, fire, wheat and beer in all the worlds of the Aesir, Vanir, giants, elves and gods."

"What are they?" Kevan asked curiously.

"There is no time to tell you, as you will see. But I was then fresh from visiting the worlds he'd mentioned and I knew the names well. We sat there in Thor's palace, Belskirnir, before a great roaring fire--Thor holding his great head in his hands as he listened, Thrud sitting beside me and holding my hand--and I recited the names. It was a long task and I didn't notice that it was daylight as I finished. I spoke the last name and then demanded Thrud's hand. Thor only grinned and pointed. I turned to look in the direction he was pointing and the last thing I saw in Asgard was the sun streaming through the window. As it touched me, I turned to stone."

Two tears streaked down the dwarf's face and were lost in his red beard.

"Why did you turn to stone?" Kevan asked.

"It was the law of the land--and still is," said Alviss. "If the sun shines on any of the Little People while in Asgard, they turn to stone. Thor had tricked me. I would be there still if Hreidmar and Sindri hadn't come to rescue me. As soon as they carried me back to Midgard, the spell was gone and I was myself again. But Thrud was lost to me forever."

"Why didn't you go back some night and get her?" asked Kevan. Being a practical man, he added, "Or why didn't she run away and join you?"

"You're excessively stupid, even for a mortal," snapped the dwarf. "Once the spell had been upon me, I would turn to stone should I ever again set foot in Asgard. And it has been decreed that there are only three ways in which Thrud may ever leave Asgard. Hand in hand with her true love, carried over Bifrost by a mortal, or when she goes to Gimli after Ragnarok."

"Well," said Kevan MacGreene finally, "it's a very touching and romantic story and I assure you that you have my deepest sympathy--but I'm afraid I fail to see how it concerns our present problem."

"Do you now?" asked Alviss. He gazed up from beneath his bushy red eyebrows. "All you have to do, my lad, is go to Asgard and bring Thrud here to me. If you do that, I'll not make war against the mortals. Fail and I'll strike immediately."

"Oh, come now," said Kevan. "You can't seriously expect me to go in and kidnap the girl out from under the nose of her father and I don't know how many other characters. It's not fair."

"Its fair enough and you'll get no more from me," said Alviss. "Be off with you--for if you're not back here by the end of the month, I'll start my war."

"The end of the month? Mortal time or your own?"

"Mine, of course."

"How much time does that give me?" asked Kevan.

The dwarf scratched his head, lost in deep thought. Then he began chanting to himself:

"Junius, Aprilis, Septemq, Novemq, tricenos

"Unum plus reliqui, Februs tenet octo vicenos

"At si bissextus fuerit superadditur unus--" He rolled his eyes toward the roof and seemed to be counting. "That'll give you until tomorrow morning," he finally announced.

"But that's impossible," exclaimed Kevan.

"Not impossible if you stretch your legs instead of standing here stretching your tongue," said Alviss. "Your only problem with time is getting from here to Yggdrasil and then from there to here. The time you spend in Asgard will not count since time there does not exist in relation to our time."

"Yggdrasil?" repeated Kevan. "Where is that?"

"That's part of your problem," said the dwarf. He turned back and began stirring his cauldron and it was obvious that he intended to talk no more. Kevan MacGreene turned and went back through the long, winding tunnel.

III

When he was once more outside, across from the palace of the four kings, he suddenly remembered something that the head of Troubleshooters, Inc. had told him. He looked and saw that the small metal flower was still in his lapel. He put his mouth close to it and shouted.

"Brian Shanachie!"

"Well," said a voice which seemed to come out of the air directly over his head, "I was wondering if I were ever going to hear from you."

"What do you mean?" Kevan demanded indignantly. "I haven't been here more than an hour."

"Time, my dear boy, is relative," the voice said airily. "How did you make out with Alviss?"

Kevan quickly related all that had happened. "What shall I do?" he asked when he'd finished. "Obviously I can't go to--wherever it is--and just steal the girl."

There was a heavy sigh out of the air above his head. "It is a rather difficult task," admitted the voice, "for one of your inexperience. Unfortunately, there are no other agents unengaged at the moment, so I guess there's nothing to do but go get the girl."

"I won't," Kevan MacGreene said grimly. "I've had enough of this. I quit."

"My dear boy," the voice said, "you can't quit. If you're not employed by me, there is no way back here, and without the badge of my office you might find it rather difficult to get along where you are."

Kevan was silent in the grip of frustration.

"Besides," the voice continued sternly, "don't forget that you're a MacGreene. Once removed from the County Ulster 'tis true, but still a MacGreene. Quitting is not for the likes of you."

It was, moreover, the only argument to sway Kevan MacGreene. "Okay," he said wearily, "where do I find this Yggdrasil?"

"Just go due Southeast by Northwest and you can't miss it." The voice sounded pleased with itself.

"And what is Yggdrasil?" Kevan asked.

"The world tree--and that's why you can't miss it. You'll see it miles before you reach it. How much time did Alviss give you?"

"Until tomorrow morning."

There was a thin whistle in the air. "That isn't much time. I guess you'll be needing some assistance. Don't move for the next minute, my lad."

There seemed to be a crackling in the air around Kevan's head and then beside him stood a new jeep. It was painted a pleasant emerald green--which reminded Kevan of Kathleen Culanna's eyes--and lettered on the side were the words _TROUBLESHOOTERS, INC.--OUR SPELLS, CURSES AND KNELLS ARE GUARANTEED_.

"What's the slogan for?" Kevan asked.

"Oh," said the voice of Brian Shanachie, "that jeep was built to be used only in the land of the Little People and it doesn't hurt to advertise, you know. After all, we do work for both sides in making our adjustments. It helps to build confidence if they know that we guarantee to handle any matter up here which threatens them. But it's getting late. Perhaps you'd better run along. Oh, yes, there is one more thing. That is a new jeep and I didn't have time to install a spell-bumper. Some of the more provincial gnomes are not yet accustomed to our jeeps and may try to throw a spell at you. So if you notice one apparently weaving something in the air, I'd suggest that you dodge as quickly as possible. Good-by--and don't hesitate to call on me if you need anything."

There was dismissal in the voice, so Kevan MacGreene stepped gingerly into the jeep. It turned out, however, to be quite solid, so he sat down with growing confidence. The first thing that caught his eye was the compass just over the steering wheel. If anyone had told Kevan that a compass could manage to point Southeast by Northwest, he wouldn't have believed him--but this one did.

* * * * *

He stepped on the starter and the motor of the jeep caught with a full-throated roar which was the most comforting thing that had happened to Kevan since he'd left Brian Shanachie's office. He put it in gear and let out the clutch. The jeep leaped forward eagerly.

He was just driving past the palace, from which could still be heard a subdued roar, when he discovered a small gnome standing in the shadow of the building. The gnome was glaring at the green jeep and his hands were making strange passes in front of him. Kevan gazed at him curiously and then suddenly remembered what Brian Shanachie had said. He twisted the wheel and sent the jeep bouncing over a small hill.

Glancing back, he was glad he had remembered, for he was just in time to see a tree turn into some sort of giant pink worm and go wriggling off at a mad pace. The tree was just beyond where the jeep would have been if he'd continued straight. Kevan had no doubt that if he'd failed to turn, he would have been riding just such a pink monstrosity.

He soon got the jeep straightened out again in the direction of the compass needle and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The little car went bouncing over rocks and hills, undaunted by all that was in its path, and Kevan MacGreene grinned happily. This was the sort of magic which gave him a sense of reality.

After what seemed like a couple hours of riding, Kevan found he was approaching the giant tree which he assumed must be Yggdrasil. He'd sighted it more than an hour back and for the past half hour had been driving in the shade of the tree. Now, just beyond it, he could see the huge flat rainbow arching up into the sky.

He arrived near the trunk of the tree and stopped the jeep, while he looked around for the bridge. There was nothing that resembled one--except the rainbow. He noticed that its incline was gradual enough to be ascended and finally decided that it must be the bridge for which he was looking. He was about to put the jeep into gear, when a new voice spoke to him.

"Really, old chap," it said, in the broadest of English accents, "I wouldn't, y'know. Bifrost is composed of fire, air and water. I should imagine the fire element might harm your tyres, to say nothing of exploding your petrol."

Kevan looked around but saw only a huge serpent coiled around the tree, apparently gnawing on its roots, and a sneaky looking squirrel which was just then scurrying up the trunk of the tree. He had about concluded that he was again dealing with a gnome who was too thin to be seen when he noticed that the serpent's eyes were fixed on him and that there seemed to be a friendly gleam in them.

"Were you addressing me?" he asked.

"Yes," said the serpent. "I'm aware that it was forward of me, y'know--we haven't been introduced and all that--but, dash it all, one just can't let a chap rush into danger."

Kevan found himself grinning at the accent. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Nidhoggr, the serpent of Yggdrasil," the snake said.

"I'm Kevan MacGreene. How do you do."

"Charmed, I'm sure," said the serpent, with what was obviously meant for a friendly smile. The effect was modified unpleasantly by the appearance of his fangs.

"If you're a part of this set-up," Kevan said, with a wave which included the tree and the rainbow bridge, "I should guess that you must be Teutonic in origin, yet you seem to have a rather marked English accent."

"Do you like it?" the serpent said eagerly. "I think it sounds rather cultured myself. I picked it up from an English sparrow who occasionally visits me. He's taught me some rather jolly songs too--especially one, I believe it's called 'The Base-born King of England.' Would you care to hear it?"

"Some other time, perhaps," Kevan said, smothering a desire to laugh. "Although I believe you have the title slightly wrong. Now, what were you saying about not crossing the bridge in my jeep?"

"I don't believe it's safe," the serpent said. "I understand that fire and petrol do not mix well. You can walk across, y'know--it makes a splendid little outing. I believe the water and air keep the fire cool enough not to burn and I understand, in fact, that it's rather invigorating."

"Well, I suppose there's nothing to do but walk," Kevan said. He shut off the motor and climbed out of the jeep.

"You're quite sure it's safe?"

"Positive, old chap. It's safe for everyone except Thor. He's been forbidden to step on it because of his heavy tread--he's a peasant, y'know. It's not as if he were a gentleman." The serpent glanced up toward the trunk of the tree, where a squirrel could be seen now scurrying downward. "There comes Ratatosk again," he said, lowering his voice. "He spends all his time between Vedfolnir, on the upper branch, and myself trying to stir up trouble. An officious little blighter. You'd best hurry along or he's bound to think there's something subversive in our little chat."

"Okay," Kevan said with a grin. "Thanks for the advice." He waved to the serpent and started up the rainbow bridge. To his surprise, the mere touch of the bridge was invigorating. Through the soles of his shoes he could feel a combination of heat and coolness and it seemed that strength flowed up into him. He strode briskly along.

* * * * *

When he was well up over the curve of the bridge, he stopped a moment and looked back. By stretching his neck, he could make out the top of the tree and he caught a glimpse of a golden rooster perched on the very tip. It looked like a tiny spot of gold in the midst of the evergreen leaves.

In only a few more minutes, he was nearing the other end of the rainbow bridge. In the far distance, he could see the turrets of a number of huge castles.

The rest of the way was mostly down hill and he completed it at a fast pace. He stepped off the bridge and stopped to look around, wondering about his next move, when he was startled by a loud roar of pain. It seemed to come not far from his right, so he turned in that direction. After a moment's walk, he came around a small hill and found himself in front of a large cave.

A young man stood in the entrance of the cave. He was clad in golden chain mail, but wore no helmet so that his bright yellow hair fell to his shoulders. He was handsome beyond the highest standards set by mortal movies, yet his beauty was all masculine. There, Kevan found himself thinking, stands one who looks every inch a god.

He'd been staring at the blond man for several minutes before he realized what was represented in the full picture. The young man was standing in the mouth of the cave because he was chained here. Huge golden chains ran from his arms and legs, and from a collar around his neck, to the walls of the cave. The chains were tight so that he had little room to move about. Directly above the cave a large serpent was lying. Its open mouth was just above the entrance to the cave and its venom was steadily dripping from the gleaming fangs toward the man below. But standing alongside of the cave was a beautiful blonde--and, Kevan noted with some embarrassment, scantily-clad--young woman. She held a silver cup in her hand in which she caught the dripping venom just before it reached the young man.

"By Gimli," the young man was saying as Kevan arrived, "you took long to empty that last draught, Signe. I thought a sea of venom had struck me. Now--" He broke off as he caught sight of Kevan. His bright blue eyes moved swiftly as he looked Kevan over.

"What manner of a one have we here?" he said. "Although it's been immortal long since I've seen a mortal, I could swear this is one. And in Asgard." He raised his voice. "Are you a mortal, strange one?"

"Yes," Kevan said, trying to be polite enough not to show that he found anything strange in the scene before him. "My name is Kevan MacGreene."

"Welcome to Asgard, Kevan MacGreene," the blond young man said. He grinned merrily and rattled the chains that held him. "It may seem strange to you to be welcomed by one so carefully chained, but after all I am a son of Odin and I presume I can still shout a welcome. I am Loki and this is my wife, Signe. As you can see, she's busy."

The young woman glanced quickly around to acknowledge the introduction with a smile, then turned her attention back to the cup she held.

IV

Now Kevan MacGreene was not especially accustomed to travel--before this day his travels had been limited to a few trips to Coney Island, once or twice to Canarsie, and once to Staten Island when he'd made the mistake of asking a girl for a date before finding out where she lived. As a result, he was none too sure how to act in the present circumstances. In the travels already mentioned, he'd never come across a god imprisoned in golden chains--he wasn't even sure he'd ever read of such a thing before. Yet it was rather foolish to act as if nothing were unusual. At the same time, the god might be sensitive to strange remarks about his condition.

It needed a diplomacy which Kevan MacGreene wasn't sure he possessed. Should he (he wondered) offer his help or would such an offer coming from a mere mortal be considered an impudence.

"I'll wager," said Loki with a laugh, "that the mortal caught sight of your ruby lips, Signe, and is wondering if you'd reward him for rescuing your husband." He laughed louder as Kevan MacGreene blushed. "She would at that, Kevan MacGreene," he said, "but I fear you'll go unrewarded. I was put here by my father and brothers and no mortal can undo their work. But it shall be undone in time, never fear. As it is, I don't find it too bad except for the moments when Signe goes to empty the cup. Although it is a bit confining." He laughed again in appreciation of his own wit, rattling the chains to the accompaniment of his laughter.

"You're a brother of Thor?" Kevan asked.

"Aye, that I am. If you're looking for Thor, I can tell you one thing. He'll bore you to tears trying to show you how strong and smart he is. I'd rather be in chains than with Thor."

"Well," said Kevan, "the truth of the matter is that I don't want to see Thor, but I'm afraid I have to."

"Ah," said Loki, "is it a matter of asking Thor for some sort of intercession on behalf of the yeomen or peasants? I wasn't aware that we were still worshipped among people. It seems to me I remember Hermod returning from one of his trips with the news that other gods now had the concession among you mortals. But then I suppose that new gods are a bit like wine--all fizz and not very much kick."

Kevan had been embarrassed by the turn of the conversation but saw no way of stopping it once it had started. When the god finished speaking, he cleared his throat nervously and tried to straighten things out.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Loki," he said, "but I'm afraid that you aren't worshipped by mortals--at least, by none that I know. In fact, most people know nothing about you." He thought he saw a look of sorrow cross the face of the chained god. "I must confess I'm not very familiar with the facts about you myself, but I do know there are a number of written records about all of you. I believe some of them are quite complete, although of course they usually add that you were only superstitious myths."

"Oh, well," Loki said, laughing softly, "I don't care what you call me so long as you spell my name right."

Kevan was pleased that the god was taking it so well.

"But," Loki continued, "if it's not a matter of arranging a sacrifice, what does bring you here? I cannot remember when a mortal last visited Asgard."

* * * * *

Kevan quickly debated the matter in his mind and decided there could be no harm in telling this god the reason for his visit. It even occurred to him that since Thor had helped to chain him in the cave, Loki might be anxious for revenge and would be willing to furnish him with valuable clues.

"Do you remember a dwarf named Alviss?" he asked. "He once visited here, although I believe it was quite some time ago."

"Alviss," mused the god, staring into space, although still managing to keep one eye on his wife to be sure she didn't shift the cup. "Wasn't that the one who became infatuated with Thrud?"

"That's the one," said Kevan.

"I remember him now," said Loki. "He's the one that Thor tricked into staying around until morning and he turned to stone." Loki laughed until the cave rang with the merry sound. "Thor was always a tricky one. Oh, a fine fellow when it came to drinking or wenching, but tricky. I well remember the time he and I met two little redheads at a convention of--_OUCH!_" The last was a bellow of pain as his wife moved the cup just enough to permit a drop of venom to fall on him. He strained against the chains until the pain subsided. Then he grinned ruefully at Kevan. "Sorry," he said. "It must have been two other fellows."

"Well," said Kevan, rushing to fill what he thought was an embarrassing gap, "Alviss is still in love with Thrud."

"Even as a stone," exclaimed Loki. "Oh, I remember now--he was stolen from Thor's palace a few nights later. I suppose his friends unstoned him, as it were."

Kevan nodded. "Exactly," he said. "Now, there's a small matter with Alviss which needs adjusting and his price is that I bring Thrud to him."

"Hmmmm," said Loki. He re-examined Kevan, with something like admiration in his gaze. "I could better understand it if you were after Thrud yourself--she is a winsome wench. But to do it for this Alviss--well, you've sliced yourself a bit of a job."

"I'm well aware of it," Kevan said modestly. "Naturally, I'd appreciate any advice...."

"Naturally," Loki said, not unkindly. He looked at Kevan again. "I admit I wouldn't mind seeing you put one over on Thor. Maybe...."

"Loki," the god's wife said sharply, speaking for the first time, "you promised to keep out of politics."

"But this isn't politics, honey," Loki said. "It's romance. In a way, it's legitimately part of my business. If love is a fire kindled in the heart, then surely the god of fire can concern himself with it. Tell me, Kevan MacGreene, is there anything in your mortal world which Thor might consider flattering to himself?"

Kevan thought for a minute and then suddenly remembered something. "I believe so," he said. "One of the days of our week is called Thursday. I believe that it was originally named after Thor."

"Just the thing. When you leave here--wait, do you come from a particular province in the mortal world?"