The Age of Odin - James Lovegrove [159]
"He is mine," stated the frost giant leader, towering over her. "Mine by right. He killed my Leikn."
She was not intimidated. "And you can officiate at his death, I promise. The job of executioner's yours. But I'd like it to be elaborate - ceremonial - and that's something we have to prepare for. It won't take long to built the apparatus we're gonna use. Once that's set up, he's all yours."
Bergelmir considered this, finally nodding. "A pleasure deferred is a pleasure increased."
"Attaboy. Now, haul his sorry carcass off to Nagelfar. Stick him in one of the troop cabins, and make sure he's well guarded. As for the rest of this crowd, back to the castle with them. And make sure they're well guarded too. I'm not anticipating any misbehaviour, but you can't be too careful."
As Bergelmir frogmarched me past her, I said, "You'd better keep your promise, Loki. Or..."
Mrs Keener arched one plucked-to-a-perfect-comma eyebrow. "Or...? You ain't got an 'or' to threaten me with, Gideon. You ain't got jack spit. But," she added, "when I make a deal with somebody, I always keep my end of it. Well, pretty much always."
It was all the assurance I was going to get.
It would have to do.
Sixty-Seven
The cabin was deep within Nagelfar's bowels. It had a hard bunk, no porthole, a dim lightbulb, a solid metal door. A snapshot of a toddler was Blu-Tacked to one wall. A pair of size 12 Converse trainers sat on the floor, waiting for an owner who was in all probability not returning.
No less than four frost giants were posted outside. I paced. I was going nowhere; pacing was all I had. Back and forth, back and forth. Seven steps one way, seven steps the other.
More than once the phrase What the fuck have you done, Gid? jangled through my head. Sacrificing myself to save everyone else wasn't something that came naturally. One of the first rules of soldiering: never volunteer. A motto which surely applied to executions more than anything.
The decision, however, had seemed logical at the time, and still did, just about. Nobody else could have struck the same deal, because nobody else had pissed off Mrs Keener quite like I had. In that sense, I hadn't had a choice. I hadn't been trying to be big and clever, I'd simply played the one measly bargaining chip I had left - myself.
I racked my brains over and over. Not long from now, a few hours perhaps, maybe less, I was going to die. Horribly. There was no either-or about that, no debate. But was there possibly some way I could use it to turn things around? Was there still a chance of redeeming the situation to some small extent?
After a while, when I'd paced enough and thought enough, I banged on the door. I demanded at the top of my voice to see Mrs Keener. The frost giant guards told me to go and perform some very uncomfortable acts. I persisted. Eventually they got tired of me making a nuisance of myself and one of them went off to fetch her.
"What's going on?" Mrs Keener said as she entered the cabin. "There a problem with the accommodation?"
"Not as such. The place smells like old jockstraps, but apart from that, no real complaints."
"Well, I am just so sorry, Gideon. Soldiers ain't always that big on their hygiene. I'd've lent you the use of the stateroom, 'cept that's mine. 'Course, you'd have even more to complain about if this was the real Nagelfar. Sides and decks of that ship are covered with fingernails and toenails, like fish scales, and the crew's all ghosts."
"I should count myself lucky, then, when you put it like that."
"Me too. I didn't take a fancy to travelling about in something quite so ghoulish. Wouldn't suit the way I am now. Same way I wasn't keen on wrangling proper monsters like Fenrir and Jormungand to attack Asgard with. I'm a fine, upstanding Southern lady. Don't need to be consorting with low, savage beasts, not when I can have stylish vehicles made for me that do the exact same job but with far less of the fussing and griping and cajoling."
"You actually believe you're Lois Keener, don't you?"
"Most of the time, yes," she replied,