"They all live together with Geirrodr and his wife in the northern shadow of Yggdrasil."

"They don't look related," I said.

"Oh, they're not." Surty had clearly grown bored with this conversation, and she absentmindedly melted the leftover chicken bones in her grasp as she spoke. "Some say they moved here years ago. Some say they've always been here. Geirrodr adopted all of them, wherever they're from."

As we spoke, I glanced again at the group of over-tall strangers. From across the room, Gjalpa appeared to turn her head and stare at me. Not just look in my direction, but into mine own eyes. Is that ... is that even possible, that she should notice an outcast such as I?

Well, let me correct that-of course it's possible that she would notice me. For am I not still Loki? But regardless of my opinion of myself, I quickly turned away. When I looked back a moment later, she and her group were gone.

"Time to get going," Surty said. "Got to study. Schoolwork before making war." She wandered off with her friends, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And Eilif.

"Where you headed next, lemme see!" He grabbed my cla.s.s schedule from my hand. "Ahh, you've got Metallurgy next, same with me. C'mon, I can walk you there. I'll show my nickname isn't accurate any more! Eilif the Found, I am!"

I prayed that Heimdall didn't hear the sound of my eyes rolling from here to Asgard, but it wasn't out of the question.

In the Metallurgy cla.s.s, my luck improved when Eilif drifted away to sit with others he knew. For an anonymous and disfigured dead Viking on loan to the school from Valhalla, he certainly seemed to know a vast array of people. He took a seat in the back of the room, his endless prattle wafting away from my ears as I headed toward the one remaining open seat. It was then that I noticed the person occupying the seat next to where I was headed-Gjalpa Geirrod.

I took my seat next to her. As I sat, I turned to look at her. At her shoulder, anyway-her actual head sat at least another head's length above mine. These were not small people, the Geirrods.

She turned away from me, and her frosty demeanor was palpable.

As the teacher, a hideous dwarf who I could scarcely stand to lay eyes on, began his lesson, I noted that Gjalpa's hand was frozen in a fist. The waves of coldness continued to emanate from her. Had I somehow so wronged her with my furtive glances earlier that she was filled with cold loathing for me? Or was this normal behavior for her? My reputation, my recent misdeed in Asgard ... those could not have followed me here so quickly, could they?

I dared not speak to her until she relaxed her fist.

This continued on for the duration of the cla.s.s. The disgusting dwarf spoke much, danced around animatedly as he spoke of smelting steel, and did his level best to keep the cla.s.s engaged. I paid his foul self no attention whatsoever. Despite the perceptible chill I felt, sweat escaped my brow in a trickle and I prayed to my mother that Gjalpa not notice my discomfort.

Finally, the clang releasing us from our lessons sounded. Better to have poisonous venom dripped on my face for all eternity than to have to experience that awkwardness again. Gjalpa arose before the bell could finish chiming and quickly exited the cla.s.s.

"Loki." It was Eilif, already at my side. These people moved quickly. "Wow, did you pierce Gjalpa's heart with a mistletoe arrow or what?"

"What?! Of-of course not, why would you ask such a thing? And with such a choice of weapon? I ... whatever do you mean?"

"Hey, take it easy," he said. "I've just never seen her act like that before, that's all."

So this was not her normal behavior. I carried home that small comfort.

The night was a long one for me. My dog had yet to be sent to me, and I missed his company. But I became even more dismayed when I replayed Gjalpa's bizarre behavior over and over in my head. She didn't know me well enough to behave in such a manner.

I was also troubled by the fact that this bothered me. I have e'er been alone but not lonely. Until now. Loki, the One, the ever-present, the independent trickster-G.o.d, could not escape the pangs of loneliness that washed over him. Er, me. The barn floor was especially uncomfortable this night, and sleep was long in coming.

cd cd The next day was better ... and worse. All night, I dreaded Gjalpa's angry glances to come the next day. I longed to confront her and demand to know what her problem was. It seemed somehow important to know.

It turned out that my sleepless night was for naught, as she wasn't in school at all. None of the Geirrods were. It was especially disheartening to realize this since the sun broke through a bit, making the day rather pleasant, for a land in the throes of a year-long third winter, that is.

Gjalpa and her adopted family didn't attend school the rest of the week.

The following week, walking across the meadow to my Armament cla.s.s, I noticed the Geirrods gathered around the chariot parking area, feeding their horses. They joked and laughed with one another. In short, they looked like normal kids. Taller by far than the others, yes, but lighter of spirit than I saw upon my first introduction to them. I wondered if my great sense of loneliness was what caused me to project such strange personality traits on Gjalpa upon meeting her.

Gjalpa turned suddenly, again staring across the field and, seemingly, directly into my eyes.

Even worse, she suddenly began walking this way.

I hesitated for a moment, turning this way and that, pondering which way to go just long enough for her to appear in front of me, cutting off any escape option. Giantesses can cover a lot of ground very quickly, I noted mentally.

"h.e.l.lo," she said. Her voice was like the beating of a snow owl's wings across a crisp winter's night. Unsure of myself in her presence, I said nothing.

"h.e.l.lo," she repeated, not acknowledging my awkwardness. "My name is Gjalpa Geirrod. I didn't have a chance to introduce myself before. You must be ... Loki."

"H-how do you know my name? I mean, why did you call me Loki?"

"Well, in cla.s.s when you sat by me, the professor called you that name. "

"Ahh, right. That vile, disgusting dwarf."

She smiled. "Yes, the teacher. You raised your hand when he referred to you as 'Loki,' so it seemed reasonable to a.s.sume that that was indeed your name."

"In-indeed." Stupid stupid stupid. I brought my gaze up to her face, an action which required me to crane my neck nearly to its breaking point. It was then I noticed her eyes.

"Did you ... did you go sleepless last night?" As soon as I asked the question, I regretted it. Stupid stupid stupid.

"No," she said. Her eyes were blazing red right now, a contrast to the deep black the first day I saw her. I noticed she clenched her hand into a fist again. But despite that implied threat of violence upon my person, or perhaps because of it, I felt a sense of calm around Gjalpa. Calm like I had rarely known in all my days.

We spoke not again of her changing eye color-really, for one such as I who could alter his physical appearance into any living creature, what difference did variable eye color make? Our conversation continued on.

"It's good news about the snow, isn't it?"

"Not really," I said.

"You don't like the cold? You'd think that nearly a full calendar's turn of the same weather might have acclimated you."

"It's ... not my favorite," I said. I wanted to be more forthcoming with this person. I wanted to tell her how I felt a connection with her already, but I dared not say more. Yet.

"Perhaps the ama.s.sing fire demons will bring a more temperate clime," she said. I only think she was joking. "You must find Jotunheim a difficult place to live."

"You have no idea. However, an unpleasant life is still preferable to the alternative back home. Things there were ... complicated."

"Why did you come here? You can tell me."

"I ..." I hesitated. Were my secret to get out, the rending of my limbs could be soon to follow. And I was rather attached to my limbs, and they to me. However, there was something in her plaintive manner that appealed to me. I let down my guard and told her who I was. I told her everything. Only later would I realize what a mistake this was.

"... and so, it was really nothing more than a prank gone wrong. Grear Balder used to boast of his impervious nature, how only the mistletoe plant could gravely harm him. Am I truly to be faulted for putting that boast to the test? Yes, Balder was the most beloved of all the northern G.o.ds, and yes, he was slain by a mistletoe arrow that did indeed pierce his heart. Some could argue that I was directly responsible for this death."

"Some?" She smiled again, eyes blazing red but possessing no judgment in them.

"Okay, well, all. But really, he must share some blame for making that kind of boast. It felt like a direct challenge to one such as me."

Was I saying too much? I kept the story as truthful as possible, although I did not mention the fact that I would indeed have slain that preening fool myself had I thought I could get away with it. Instead, I armed the blind G.o.d Hor with an arrow carved from mistletoe. But how could I have known that the unseeing fool would strike a killing blow?

"The one thing I hear of mistletoe," she said smiling, "is that the plant has other, more ... mutually beneficial ... uses than just mayhem."

And with that, Loki's own heart suddenly felt pierced. We spoke no more. She looked down into my eyes. I stared up at her, her head looming large in my vision, a source of brightness amidst the storm clouds that had again gathered overhead.

I know not how long we spoke, for time stopped moving during our conversation. However, when it did restart, it did so in a hurry. As we stood in the field, a carriage led by two large horses started to take flight in the distance behind us. But as I would learn later, the foolish coachmen only had with him one large carrot, and neither horse was willing to share with the other. The piebald horse slammed his head into the other horse in an attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h the carrot away. This sent the carriage careening wildly out of control. Right for us!

The coachman was helpless to stop this as the horses battled, themselves oblivious to anyone in their path. The carriage slid recklessly out of control across the ground, with us in its path. As much as the fates like to predict our end, they are often wrong, and I a.s.sumed that my time of demise was only seconds away.

Suddenly, Gjalpa leapt in front of me, crouching down and touching the ground with both hands, palms pressed flat against the hard-packed dirt.

The horses and the carriage suddenly slid to either side of us, as though they struck patches of ice that did not exist moments before. The carriage slammed hard into the wall to the left of us, although I did not see this-I had shut tight my eyes, preparing for the crushing impact.

I opened my eyes and saw Gjalpa looking into them. The redness I saw in her eyes before was gone, her eyes again beautiful black pools. "Loki-Loki, are you all right?!"

"I-I'm fine," I said. I cast my eyes to the carriage. The horses were damaged, perhaps unable to ever fly again, but still living. The coachman was less fortunate. Which mattered not, since had he not perished in this collision, he would have met Loki later this evening and learned a valuable-and final-lesson in driving care. As it was, I made a mental note to revisit the two horses at midnight and impart the same lesson. My puppy, being sent to me this afternoon, would be in need of a good snack.

"Gjalpa, how ... how did you turn the carriage so? It appeared to strike twin patches of ice, but the ground...."

"The ground on which we stand has no such ice, Loki. I was right next to you. The horses luckily veered off at the last instant."

As she helped me off the ground, I doubted my senses, and I doubted her story more. Magic was not exactly an unknown commodity in my life, and I was sure I saw something magical today. "No, you were ... in front of me. But you touched the ground, and then they slid away...."

"No, no."

"Yes, I saw you, Gjalpa."

"No. Please, Loki, trust me."

I wanted to trust her. I did. But fooling the eyes of a trickster-G.o.d is easier said than done. Still, I felt a bond with her that was new and surprising to me, and not so easily discarded. So I chose not to press the issue. The important fact of the situation-that Loki yet lived-was the only tangibly important detail anyway, and so I let the matter drop.

"I-thank you, Gjalpa. For, um, talking to me, I mean. I am-I should go. I'm a bit shaken up, and I must prepare my barn for the arrival of my dog. He is being sent to me, and he'll be hungry. I must prepare for him a nice supper." I looked at the two injured horses as I said this.

We parted. She went back to rejoin her adopted family, and the crowd that had gathered similarly departed. No one wanted to be present when the foolish coachman was spirited away to the halls of the dead lest his guides decide he needed additional company on that particular journey.

Yet I stayed. I bent down to touch the ground in front of me. While all the hard-packed soil was cold to the touch-nothing in this endless winter town was anything but cold-I could have sworn that I felt icy patches that dissipated under the warmth of my touch. Nothing was visible to the eye, and so I had no proof.

I considered what this meant, and tried to make sense of the jumbled thoughts running around through my head. I felt like I was close to puzzling out what I was thinking, for I felt a familiarity with Gjalpa, a kinship unlike any I'd known before. I might well have avoided the anguish to come had I not been interrupted, but a crackling in the sky jolted me from my reverie.

2. THIRD WHEEL.

I'd been told many things about the Valkyries from my father and the elder G.o.ds. Those death-obsessed riders of winged horses, those shield-maiden choosers of the slain, those vengeful spirit-warriors who would not only take departed souls to the death-land of Valhalla but also, occasionally and capriciously, grab those still living and take them there as well. These horrid creatures were said to be monstrous in appearance, horrible of manner and blackened of soul.

"You only ever want to meet the Valkyries once in your life," my father told me as a child. "And even then, many souls wither in their presence before ever being able to complete the journey to Valhalla's fabled halls."

It seems my father never met hyperbole he didn't love. For the Valkyries who appeared now in front of me through an electrified hole in the sky possessed one other trait my father neglected to mention, or perhaps never knew for himself (after all, with only one eye, it's difficult to see things clearly)-they were impossibly, inarguably gorgeous.

As the three riders entered the school grounds on winged horses so white in color that they fairly glowed with brilliant light, the shield-maidens themselves nearly burned my eyes, so great was their beauty.

One in particular especially caught my eye. Never before today had the eyes of Loki been so ensnared so easily, but for the second time in recent memory, I was seized by feelings new and unexplored.

The third Valkyrie to exit the rift in the air was also the youngest. She appeared roughly my age, while the other two were visibly older and battle-hardened.

The other two administered to the needs of the deceased coachmen, but the smaller one approached me. "Who are you, o man, that you stand in the presence of the Valkyries with gaze that withers not?"

Formal types, these Valkyries. "I am Loki," I said.

"Brynhilda, I," she said. Her hair was the finest gold, woven into l.u.s.trous, thick braids. Her silver battle armor seemed to be protecting a very pleasant figure.

"And who are ... you know, your friends?"

"Friends we are not, G.o.dling. We are Valkyries one and all. My companions Geirdriful and Geiravor are both known for their prowess with the spear, as well as their caring touch in bringing the einherjar to Valhalla's hallowed halls."

"'Einherjar'? Surely a reckless fool who ran himself into a wall, nearly striking my person while doing so, doesn't qualify as a valiant warrior worthy of Valhalla?"

As Brynhilda started to answer, her shrewish companions cast their gaze in our direction. "Brynhilda! Leave the mortal alone and help us administer to this dead soul!"

She scoffed in their general direction. "Surely two such capable Valkyries as you are capable of preparing one mortal without young Brynhilda getting in your way!"

I whispered to her, suppressing my smile at her sharp tongue. "Can you also tell them that Loki is no mortal but a G.o.d most strong?"

They shouted back at her. "Foolish girl! Dost you not know that you talk to Loki the viper, Loki the snake, Loki the Balder-killer?"

Such was my lot when my reputation preceded me. There was no hiding anything from Valkyries.

"That was you?!" Brynhilda smiled largely enough to reveal to me all of her perfect teeth. "Pay them no mind, Loki Odinson! Valhalla's halls are better for having the great Balder in it. And to have orchestrated the death of one so fair and beloved, heedless of the consequences to come, well, that is ... that's just cool!"

Her stoic Valkyrie demeanor disappeared and she was a girl again. A girl with a battle-sharpened sword and fitted armor of the finest metals, but a girl in Loki's presence nonetheless. It appeared that even Valkyries who whiled away their days taking away departed warriors preferred the company of "bad boy" G.o.ds like myself. Would that I had known before that my machinations would prove so appealing to the fair s.e.x.

"Fair Brynhilda, when you mentioned before that my actions against Balder had great consequences, what did you mean?"

"Oh, never mind that now, Loki. Come, let us take a flight and talk a while." She reached down from her perch upon her steed, offering her hand so that I might join her on the back of her horse. Only, her horse was having none of that. Flaring flames from its nostrils, the horrid creature whipped its head around at me and would have snapped my hand off in its powerful jaws had Brynhilda not intervened. "Er, that is, come, Loki, let us instead take a walk. My horse will wait here for us."

It appears none but Valkyries may sit upon their horses. Which suited me just fine. Perhaps my fair pup could use a meal of three such animals tonight, instead of just the two I already planned....

Upset were Brynhilda's traveling companions, but even they admitted that the wretch they were carting away did not require the aid of three Valkyries. They allowed her pa.s.s, commenting that they appreciated the constant business I sent their way, and also looked forward to seeing me very soon. Which sounded on the surface to be a polite thing to say, but their wicked smiles told me there was deeper and more disconcerting meaning behind their words.

At the moment, I cared not about such things. I was entranced by Brynhilda as we walked. Partly because she seemed entranced with me, and any girl who admired Loki deserved in turn my admiration for their strikingly good taste.

"That coachman your Valkyrie-sisters spirited away-why did he gain admittance to a hall of warriors, anyway? Have the qualifications for Valhalla lapsed?"

Brynhilda, who also stood nearly a head's length taller than me, considered this even as she used her sword as a walking stick, absentmindedly carving lines in the ground with its tip as we walked. "No. He was, as you say, a fool. But the coming conflagration-an event that will be forever marked as starting with your plot against fair Balder-will fill Valhalla's halls with warriors, and our need for servants to suit their needs has grown."

"My actions, you say?"

"Why, yes, Loki. Twilight is approaching. Fair Balder's pa.s.sing has ignited the flames of war, and the fire-demons from the depths have ama.s.sed an army of considerable enough size to finally-"

I cut her off with another question. "Never mind that now," I said. "Since you Valkyries seem to know so much about, well, everything, what do you know of the Geirrods? Are they normal?"

"The Geirrods? The girl who helped the demise of yon coachmen? The other shield-maidens said that she is one of the cold ones."