Part 3

"Not exactly a province. I'm from New York City in America. It's the largest and greatest city in the world, located, I might add, in the greatest country in the world."

"Of course," Loki said amiably. "Now, when you leave here you will stop at the first station you come to and send Thor a ravengram. You'll tell him that you're the American ambassador and--"

"But I couldn't say that," protested Kevan. "It's not true."

* * * * *

Loki encouraged him. "You're an American, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And didn't you tell me that this Alviss had sent you here as his ambassador to get Thrud?"

"Y-yes."

"Well, then, you're an American ambassador," Loki said with finality. "Tell Thor that you want to see him about presiding at a dedication ceremony for this day. It's been so long since a mortal asked Thor to preside at anything he's bound to fall for it. That will get you invited to Belskirnir."

"I guess I could do that," Kevan said doubtfully. "But getting out will be harder than getting in, won't it?"

"Nothing to it," said Loki with confidence. "Do you know any good riddles?"

"Riddles?" repeated the amazed Kevan. "You mean things like--like 'What flies forever and rests never?'"

"The wind," Loki said promptly. "That's the general idea, although you'll need to get newer ones than that. The really old ones Thor will know. Can you manage some more modern ones?"

"I'll try," Kevan said. He remembered that his mother had often read riddles to him as a child and he thought he could recall some of them.

"About three good riddles should be about right. When you get to Belskirnir, the first thing you'd better do is tip off Thrud why you're there. Then you challenge Thor to guess your three riddles. If he fails--and he will if you use good ones for nobody ever accused Thor of being bright--then he lets you take Thrud away."

"That sounds all right, except for one thing. What if Thor doesn't accept the challenge?"

"I'm coming to that," Loki said thoughtfully. "At the same time you send the message to Thor, you send one to my father."

"Your father?" Kevan asked, wishing he could remember more of the old legends. He resolved to brush up on them if he kept this job.

"Odin," Loki explained. "He's Thor's father too and he's still the head of the family. The old man is a stickler for convention, so you merely send him a message asking to call on him first before visiting Thor. Better not mention that you've already met me. The old man will be pleased that a mortal recognizes that he's still the head of the house. While you're talking to him, casually mention that you're going to challenge Thor to three new riddles. Be sure to stress the _new_."

Kevan nodded. He could see little sense in any of this, but was willing to grant that this was possibly because he was a stranger in the land.

"My father," continued Loki, "is a real pig for knowledge. He'll try to pump you for the answers to the riddles. If you refuse then he'll show up at Belskirnir and he'll make Thor accept the challenge, just so he can hear the answers."

"You're sure?" Kevan asked.

"Positive. The old man will go through anything just to learn something new. He once gave up one of his eyes just for one drink from Mimir's well of knowledge. Another time, he hung in a trance from Yggdrasil, with his head in Niflheim, for nine days in order to learn to write runes. You can't miss if you do as I tell you."

* * * * *

Some of Loki's confidence surged through Kevan. "This is mighty nice of you, Mr. Loki," he said. "Isn't there something I can do to repay you?"

"I guess not," Loki said sadly, "There is only one way in which these chains can be broken and I doubt if you could manage it by yourself. It's really not too bad--although I do get rather bored at times just standing here and seeing the same things all the time. It was a pleasure to talk with you."

"Wait a minute," Kevan cried. "I think I have an idea. I'll be right back." He ran around the side of the hill. As soon as he was out of sight and hearing, he stopped. He put his mouth close to his lapel and called: "Brian Shanachie."

"Midgard to Asgard, over," said the voice from above his head. The tone and the words seemed to indicate that Brian Shanachie was in good humor.

"I believe," Kevan said carefully, "that there may be a good chance of my being able to get Thrud for Alviss. I've just met my first inhabitant of Asgard and he's been very helpful. In fact, I'd like to repay him in some way, which is why I called."

"A friend at court, eh?" said the voice. "Who did you meet?"

"He said his name is Loki."

"Loki?" said the voice. "Isn't he in durance vile, or some such thing?"

"He's chained in a cave, if that's what you mean," Kevan said. "I can't imagine why they would treat him like that. He seems very nice."

"What did he tell you about himself?"

"Nothing. I did gather from some reference he made to his wife that he's the god of fire."

"That's right," said the voice. "Also god of mischief and evil. You understand, my boy, we make a practice of not interfering with an agent in the field, but if I were you I'd go rather easy on making gifts to Loki. No files baked in a cake, or that sort of thing. If Loki ever breaks loose from his chains, it means the end of the world."

"I find it very difficult to believe that Loki is evil in any way," Kevan said with dignity. "However, I was merely thinking of providing him with some entertainment. He told me that he gets bored just standing there, always with the same view."

"Well--do whatever you think best. What sort of a gift did you have in mind? Dancing girls?"

"No," Kevan said indignantly. "I don't think his wife would approve and I doubt if we could morally justify such a gift. But didn't you mention that you had once made a gift of a radio to one of the gnomes?"

"That's right."

"I was wondering how such things would work here," Kevan said. "After all, they are electrically powered and I doubt if they have many modern conveniences here."

"No problem at all," the voice said cheerfully. "Electrical objects become so charged during teleportation that they run for a long time. Did you want to give Loki a radio?"

"No, I was thinking of a television set. Perhaps one with a twenty-four inch screen. Now, after your information, I'm even more sure that this will make a superb gift for him. If you are correct in saying that he's the god of the evil, some good wholesome entertainment may be good for him. Television, you know, is an excellent way of keeping the children off the streets and--"

"Spare me the commercials," snapped the voice. "You want it right there?"

"No, wait until I get back to the cave. You might also include a remote control tuning device. I imagine he might find it difficult to handle the controls otherwise."

Kevan hurried back to the cave, whereupon Loki stopped trying to guess how full the cup was that Signe held and watched him with interest. Kevan stood at a spot where he judged that Loki could get the best view and once more spoke into the flower in his lapel.

"Okay, send it along," he said.

* * * * *

Once more the air seemed to crackle around him and there was a solid thump as the television set came to rest only a few inches from Kevan's foot.

"In the name of Garm, what is that?" demanded Loki.

"A television set," Kevan said. "I think you will find that it will do much to relieve your boredom." He bent over and turned on the switch and was pleasantly surprised to see the screen light up. He fiddled around with the controls until he got a station tuned. It was a news broadcast, which normally would have interested him, but he was more curious to see Loki's reaction. The god was staring at the screen with bulging eyes. Satisfied, Kevan turned the volume down so that he wouldn't have to compete with the announcer's voice.

"That," he said, "happens to be what we call a news broadcast. That is, the man is telling what is actually happening in the world of the mortals. But you will find other things that are more amusing. In fact, there are a few comedians you might find highly entertaining--I imagine that you are of a sufficiently ancient period to find their jokes new."

Kevan went on to explain to the god how the remote control device could be used to change stations and to raise or lower the volume. A look of speculation crept into Loki's face as the explanation was being given.

"This is really very nice of you," he said when Kevan had finished. "I wonder if I might impose on you for another favor?"

"Of course," Kevan said promptly.

"I have three children," Loki said, "two boys and a girl. Would it be possible to get such a machine for each of them? I'm sure they would enjoy it."

Kevan nodded. "Television is wonderful for children," he said. "I understand they have some very delightful children's programs on, too. Do you think table models might do for them?"

"Anything," Loki said.

"And where would you like them delivered?" Kevan asked. "I could go to wherever they live, so the sets would be delivered there."

"No, I wouldn't think of putting you out. Right here will be fine. I'm sure we can arrange for them to be picked up."

Kevan nodded again and bent his head to speak into the metal flower. "Three more television sets," he ordered. "Table models, if you don't mind."

He thought he heard a grumbling grunt from the air above his head, but a moment later three small television sets were dumped on the ground beside the larger one.

V

After accepting Loki's profuse thanks, Kevan MacGreene went on his way, feeling virtuous for having performed such a good deed. It did occur to him that he should have recommended a few good programs for Loki, perhaps one or two of a spiritual nature, but he decided against turning back to correct it. There was a possibility that a god might resent being instructed by a mere mortal.

Kevan walked rapidly along the broad path he discovered and it wasn't long before he arrived at what Loki had called the first station--although in reality it was little more than a thatched hut. Kevan entered and soon composed the two messages which he wanted to send to Thor and Odin. He handed them over to the old man who ran the station and almost immediately two ravens darted from the hut. Kevan retired to a corner to await their return, but much to his surprise he had barely seated himself when the ravens were back.

Impressed by the service, Kevan toyed with the idea of learning more about the method, thinking that it might be knowledge he could take back and sell for a reasonable price to the various telegraph companies. But he dismissed this as probably being unfair to Brian Shanachie.

While the answers were brief and to the point, it seemed that both Odin and Thor would be happy to see the mortal ambassador. After some dickering with the old man who ran the ravengraph agency, which involved handing over his wristwatch, Kevan received a horse and instructions on how to reach Odin's local castle. As he rode off, the old man was holding the watch to his ear and nodding in time to the rhythmic ticking.

It was a pleasant ride over the rolling hills of Asgard, and Kevan soon arrived at the huge, sprawling castle. The guards evidently expected him, for he was immediately shown into the throne room of the chief of the gods.

Odin, bald-headed and gray-bearded, slouched on his throne and regarded his visitor with interest. It was a mutual attitude, with Kevan finally deciding that Odin must be something of a local character. There were two ravens seated on his shoulders and they seemed to be constantly whispering in his ears. On either side of the throne a gigantic wolf was crouched. Except for his costume, Odin reminded Kevan of an aging Hollywood producer ready to have his picture taken for the press. But, of course, he permitted none of this disrespect to show in his manner.

Kevan delivered a carefully-rehearsed speech, in which he praised Odin's great knowledge, then fell silent.

Odin nodded, as though agreeing with all the points made. "And what are your plans now, mortal?" he asked.

"I thought of visiting Thor," Kevan said.

"My son?" the old god asked, blinking in astonishment. "Why should you visit him? You seem interested in knowledge. I'm afraid you'll find my son rather dull company. Or were you planning to ask for a thunder license?"

"I want to challenge him to answer three riddles," Kevan said. "If he fails to answer them, then I will claim his daughter, Thrud."

"Thrud, eh?" Odin said. A crafty look came into his eyes. "If it's only a matter of a woman, why not stay here and expound your riddles. I'll let you have one of the Valkyries. It'll be a much better bargain. They are all quite skilled in the arts of love and Thor is rather strict with Thrud so she may be a little too innocent for a man of the world such as yourself."

"No, it must be Thrud," Kevan said, deciding there was no use in defending the purity of his own intentions.

"Jaded appetites, eh?" the old god said, shrugging his shoulders. "What riddles are you going to try on my son? Perhaps I can advise you."

"I'm sorry, sir," Kevan said, "but I'd rather not say. You know the old saying, 'the walls have ears'?"

"Of course they do," Odin said a trifle impatiently. "They're battle trophies. I removed every single one of them myself."

At first, Kevan thought the god might be a little mad, but then he realized that the walls of the throne room were indeed covered with ears. And not very attractive ears at that. "No, no," he said, averting his eyes, "I meant that someone might overhear the riddles and tip off Thor."

"And he wouldn't be above using the information," Odin agreed. "Well, I'll tell you what--I'll ride you over to Thor's."

"I wouldn't want to trouble you," Kevan began, but was stopped by a wave of Odin's hand.

"No trouble. After all, we seldom have visitors here. I wouldn't want it said that Odin lets visitors just wander off by themselves--maybe even be eaten up by a stray dragon. Besides, I wouldn't mind seeing that son of mine taken down a notch or two." He looked pleased at the prospect.

* * * * *

The mention of dragons was enough to keep Kevan from protesting further. Within a few minutes, he was again mounted on his horse while Odin rode beside him. As they galloped through the gate, they were joined by a dozen of the Valkyries. These beautiful young women, their charms not sufficiently concealed by the armor they wore, immediately began casting covetous glances at Kevan. He was careful to ride close beside Odin.

Their arrival at Thor's castle, Belskirnir, was filled with confusion for Kevan. The palace was swarming with various lusty gods, their wives, mistresses and children. He was introduced to so many that he could remember the names of none. He did, however, catch the name of Thrud when he was introduced to a shapely blonde girl, with a sullen face. He managed to whisper to her, telling her who he was and the purpose of his errand, whereupon the sullenness fell from her face. The result was so startling that Kevan found it difficult to remember that he was there on behalf of Alviss.

It seemed that they were just in time for a banquet and Kevan found himself forced to go through what seemed like a hundred course meal, consisting mostly of half-cooked venison, and so many cups of mead that his head was swimming.

Kevan had tried several times to get Thor's attention to bring up the matter of his challenge, but found it almost impossible to make himself heard above the roar of voices in the banquet hall. But the matter was finally settled for him by Odin, whose curiosity could no longer stand the strain.

"Quiet," shouted the chief of the gods, leaping to his feet. He struck the table a mighty blow with his hand, causing the mead cups to jump and spill. "Silence!" He waited until the shouting and talking died down. "The mortal who is our guest would like to challenge my son, Thor, on three riddles."

Thor looked up from the head of the table, but there was no evidence of pleasure in his face. He was dressed in a peasant costume and Kevan had secretly decided that the costume was an affectation.

"I'm not interested in riddles," Thor grunted. "I know enough of them anyway."

"Well, I am," retorted Odin. "So you'll accept the challenge or I'll take the thunder concession away from you and give it to Sif."

There was a burst of laughter from around the table and Thor frowned. He didn't really care about the thunder concession, but if it were taken from him and given to his wife, the symbolism would be one he'd never live down. "All right," he growled. "Where is this mortal?"

"Here," Kevan said, standing up. He had expected to be nervous but the mead had bolstered his courage. "But there's more to the challenge. If you fail to answer two of the three riddles then I get to take Thrud away with me."

"You mean you want to marry her?" Thor asked, scowling.

"No," Kevan said. The sudden silence that followed made his ears burn, but he was afraid to explain more fully. If Thor knew that there was a chance that Alviss might finally triumph over him, there was a possibility he would brook his father's anger. So Kevan ignored the knowing glances and kept quiet.

"That's the trouble with you mortals," grumbled Thor. He cast a quick glance at his father and decided not to risk arguing about it. "All right, I agree," he said reluctantly. "What do you pay, if I answer the riddles?"

Kevan was taken aback. "I--I hadn't thought about that," he admitted.

"Well, think about it," Thor snapped. "I have it. If I answer your riddles, you'll stay here as my personal goatherd."

* * * * *

Kevan had gone too far to back down, so he nodded. He thought, a little ruefully, that the next job of Troubleshooters, Inc. might be to rescue a former agent turned goatherd. It also occurred to him that perhaps Brian Shanachie didn't bother rescuing agents, but he pushed the thought away.

"Okay," he said, "here is my first riddle." He'd finally decided on a first riddle which he suspected was too old, but it was the weakest of his three and he wanted to get it over with. He cleared his throat and began: "What we caught, we left behind; what we brought, we cannot find."

Thor's expression of worry vanished and he burst out laughing. "I learned that one so long ago," he roared, "that when I first knew it, it went: Hos' helomen lipometha, Hos' ouk helomen pherometha. The answer is a flea."

Kevan MacGreene nodded, feeling the first pangs of fear. It suddenly dawned on him that he had little business pitting wits with a god--even a discarded one--and he could only hope that his next two riddles were new enough. In terms of mortal life they too were old; it was so difficult to tell what was new for a god.

"Here is my second riddle," he said nervously. "I have an apple I can't cut, a blanket I can't fold, and so much money I can't count it." If Thor guessed this one, he was finished.

There was a long silence. Kevan sneaked a glance at Odin and the older god's puzzled expression gave him more confidence than Thor's frown.

The silence stretched into minutes.

"Enough of this," shouted Odin. "Give up, you idiot, so he can tell us the answer."

"All right," Thor said sullenly. "I give up."

Elation flooded over Kevan. "The apple is the sun," he said, "the blanket is the sky, and the money is the stars." He grinned happily at the expression of rage on Thor's face. "Here's my third and last riddle," he said. "A long white barn, two roofs on it, and no door at all, at all." He almost held his breath as he waited.

Thor looked around the table as though he thought someone there might know the answer and signal him. But the other faces were as blank as his own.

"By Gimli," shouted Odin, "I think he's got you, son. And a good thing, too. It's high time that daughter of yours was getting out and learning a thing or two. Go on--confess you're licked."

His face red with anger, Thor nodded.

"It's an egg," Kevan said triumphantly.

The other gods around the table leaped to their feet and slapped Kevan on the back in token of victory. He had just started to take a drink of mead, however, and the result was that he choked.

* * * * *

Before Kevan could stop choking, the door to the banquet hall broke down. A horse and rider came through the door, the horse rearing and plunging, scattering gods before it. An armored god was astride the horse, swinging a short-handled axe in his right hand.

In a minute all of the gods were on their feet, shouting. It was Odin who quieted them with a bellow that shook the rafters. "Well, Hermod?" he asked as the others quieted.

"It's Ragnarok," the newcomer shouted. "Loki is on his way, with Jormungandr, Fenris, Hel, Garm, and the Hel-brood. To battle!"

The gods shouted in response and before Kevan had a chance to ask a single question, the banquet hall was emptied. Only Kevan MacGreene still sat at the table, staring at the door through which they had all rushed.

"Better not to get mixed up in any strange fights," Kevan said to himself, remembering something his father had always told him. He got up from the table and left the room.

Some fifteen rooms later, he found Thrud and told her of his success. She nodded, smiling.

"I am ready," she said. "I was sure that anyone Alviss sent would succeed. Where is my father?"

"They all rushed out to battle," Kevan said. "I didn't catch the details, but I expect it's just some local argument. Maybe we'd better hurry before your father returns and changes his mind."

VI

With Thrud leading the way, they went down to the courtyard. There was a single gray horse standing there patiently. At first, Kevan thought that it was the horse on which he had arrived, but he changed his mind when he noticed that this one had eight legs. He counted them three times to make sure but each time it came out eight.

"It's a good omen," Thrud cried. "This is Sleipnir, Odin's favorite horse."

Kevan was in no mood to haggle over the ownership of a horse, so he helped Thrud mount and then leaped on in front of her. He was no sooner in the saddle than the gray horse sped through the gates. When the eight legs really got to working, Kevan realized that they were traveling faster than he'd ever gone in his life.

"I must remember," he thought to himself, "to look for eight-legged horses the next time I go to the riding academy."

Back over the trail toward Bifrost sped the gray horse. Once far off to the left Kevan caught sight of a warrior who looked like Odin battling with a giant wolf.

They were almost to the rainbow bridge when their way was barred by another horseman, with drawn sword. The gray horse reared, six legs threshing the air, which kept Kevan busy for a few minutes just staying on. When that was finally accomplished, he recognized the horseman as Loki.

Recognition came to Loki at the same moment and he lowered the sword. "Hello, Kevan MacGreene," he said with an odd smile. "I owe you too much to bar your way. Go on--as far as you can."

"Well, Mr. Loki," Kevan said. "I thought you'd be home--er--watching television. What happened?"

"Thanks to you, I'm free," Loki said. "It was decreed that there was only one way that I could get free--when the greed and lust and vice and warfare of men became great enough that it would give me the strength to break my chains. But it is long since we've had contact with mortals. Then, due to what you call television, I was able to see the men of your world. There were men whose greed robbed other men. There were men whose lust destroyed all before them. There were men whose vices corrupted the innocent and enslaved the free. And there was warfare on such a scale as never imagined by gods. As I watched, my strength grew."