Gods of Fire and Thunder Page 6
Hal picked his teeth and ruminated for a while. They had recently concluded a very satisfactory dinner. Life on a prosperous farm, like this one, could be quite nice, at least for the owners. On the other hand, farming always involved an enormous amount of work.
Some time had passed before he prodded: "You were going to tell me more about the gnomes who handle the farrier work for Wodan's stable. You said you even visited them."
Baldur nodded, then hesitated, as if wondering whether the further revelation he was about to make was wise. Then he added: "I met the Earthdweller who actually does the work."
"You keep coming out with these surprises. How did that come about?"
"Well—it's a long story."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Still Baldur hesitated, as if he feared to allow the escape of dangerous secrets. At last he said: "Brunhild wanted this gnome, Andvari's his name, to look at her Horse's shoes. She thought one of them was beginning to work loose."
"It's none of my business, really, lad—but how long were you and this maiden acquainted?" He had been about to ask how long and how well but at the last moment had thought it best to omit a couple of words.
"Well, it was only about six months." Baldur sounded surprised himself when he came to reckon out the time. "No more than that. But it seemed—forever. It seemed that my life only really began on the day that I met her."
Hal nodded wisely. Then he requested: "Tell me more about the gnomes?"
"I don't know much more about them. Why?"
"Well. It seems to me that getting to know them better is the only way you're ever going to find out exactly where to reach the Horses."
And the only way I'm ever going to get any closer to those golden shoes, and the place where they are forged. But Hal did not say that aloud.
* * *
5
Hal was carrying in his pouch good evidence that at least some of Wodan's Horses were truly shod with gold. Possibly they all were. That, he supposed, could easily mean a hundred golden horseshoes nailed firmly on hooves, coming loose, or lying around somewhere as spares. The total ought to buy enough farmland to satisfy a dozen retiring Argonauts. But he was not going to be greedy.
Hal's knowledge of gnomes and gnomeland was practically nil, but Baldur had told him that their towns and villages were generally to be found along river valleys. On the other hand, everyone knew that Wodan's legendary stronghold and headquarters, Valhalla, had to be perched somewhere very high up in some range of mountains. Probably, thought Hal, the gold from which the shoes were made was stored right in Valhalla, or at least nearby. Which suggested that the gnomes who served as farriers for Wodan would have to climb well up into the mountains to do their work.
Of course, any hoard that held a hundred horseshoes worth of gold was certain to be well guarded by one means or another. But in any system of protection there were generally weak points. And Hal had no intention of trying to empty out the divine Wodan's treasury, or even make a noticeable dent in his reserves. No, the northman's ambitions were quite modest, befitting a mere mortal. He would be delighted to just pick up a few more scraps of yellow metal, absentmindedly left lying about by those who seemed to have more gold than they knew what to do with. Just some odds and ends.
For several days now Hal had been incubating an idea in the back of his mind. It was the germ of a scheme which, if successful, should finance the nicest little farm a man could ever want, and maybe the start of a fleet of fishing boats to boot. At first the idea had seemed little more than a daydream, too foolish to be taken seriously; but the longer he thought about it, the closer to the realm of possibility it seemed to drift.
He had to keep reminding himself that he really knew almost nothing about Wodan or magic Horses, and, when you came right down to it, not much about Baldur either. He had no way to test the truth of anything his companion told him regarding Valkyries. So trying to formulate anything like a detailed plan would be a complete waste of time, until he had learned more—a whole lot more. To learn more, he would just have to check out the situation for himself, and the only way he could see of doing that was by beginning with the gnomes.
While Hal kept secretly toying with ideas about gold, Baldur was developing his own scheme for reaching Brunhild and taking Hal into his confidence about it. Now the young man, acting casually and showing a talent for misdirection, so that his family suspected nothing, had begun making clandestine arrangements for his and Hal's planned expedition to the gnomes' village. He was telling everyone that the two of them were going on a fishing trip, just to relax.
Baldur's plan involved finding out from Wodan's gnome-farriers just where the Valkyries' Horses were stabled. Baldur had convinced himself that a Horse could carry him safely through Loki's flames, and once that happened, he would once more be able to clasp his beloved in his arms. Currently he seemed to have no hopes or plans for anything beyond that moment.
Right now, Hal and Baldur were standing on the bank of the stream that ran behind the house, and Hal thought they were out of earshot of anyone else.
As usual, he was playing the role of cautious partner. "We don't have any idea yet where the Horses are kept. At least I don't."
"But certainly the gnomes must know." Suddenly Baldur was ready to offer another revelation; he seemed to dole them out on an average of one a day, like a parent handing sweetmeats to a child. He said: "Brunhild once told me that the farriers' routine work is done four times a year, on the full moon following each solstice and each equinox."
"Is that a fact?" Hal quickly calculated that the next full moon, due in less than two weeks, would be the first after the autumnal equinox. "Then the timing would seem to be in our favor, anyway. How far away is this village of gnomes?"
Baldur, who said he had actually been there once, gave an estimate. Hal thought that with a little effort, they would be able to time their trip so they reached the gnomes' village in a few days. Exactly when the farriers would be starting on their periodic journey to Valhalla was impossible to say, but it would have to be soon, if either departure or arrival coincided with the full moon.
Baldur for once was almost cheerful. "It's a sign, Hal! A very favorable sign, it means that the Fates are with us."
"I'm glad to hear it."
Abruptly the young man turned on Hal. With the air of one who had just reached an important decision and was about to confer a great favor, he announced: "If we can get our hands on two Horses, instead of only one, then you can come with me, when I go to Brunhild." Since Hal was so interested, so ready to join in secret discussions, he must be ready and eager to plunge into the whole bold undertaking up to his neck. What other attitude could a professional adventurer, a former Argonaut, possibly have?
"It will be a glorious adventure!" Baldur added with a grin, inviting his older partner to relax and be enthusiastic.
Hal stared at him. "I'm sure it will."
Baldur had already turned his attention back to planning. "Naturally, our first step must be to think of some good reason to give the gnomes, for visiting their village. We can't just say we were on a fishing trip and decided to drop in."
"Well, we might do worse. But what would you suggest?"
The youth was squinting his eyes, as if his own deep thoughts might be hard to make out. "Tell them you're a merchant, come to trade—no, wait a minute, Hal. That's it. I'll tell them you're a famous warrior, come to commission some kind of special weapon. They fill such orders all the time. They are, as you must realize, the finest metalsmiths in the world."
"I see," said Hal, who hadn't realized anything of the kind. But the world was a big place, and he had to admit that for all he knew, Baldur might be right on this point. "And once we're there, how do we get them to lead us to the Horses?"
Baldur didn't seem to think that that would be a problem. "Either we accompany the farriers when they leave the village—or else we follow them."
"You think we can do either one?"
"I see." Hal ruminated for a few strides. "Well, it might work. But why do you assume they're walking? It could be a long journey. Wouldn't they more likely be riding, on cameloids or in a carriage?"
Baldur shook his head decisively. "Gnomes very rarely use such animals."
"You seem to know a lot about them."
And Baldur was suddenly determined to change the subject. Hal wondered silently if the youth might have had a gnomish girlfriend too.
Hal could well believe that Wodan might be a little careless with his gold. He had meditated on the subject for some time, and had decided that probably few gods cared much about wealth in itself—after all, they could pretty much help themselves to what they wanted of the world's goods without having to pay. But magic Horses, like the creatures Baldur had described—such an animal would be a treasure indeed, to any god or mortal.
In their secret discussions, Baldur persisted in talking as if it would be the easiest thing in the world to locate a Horse, hop on its back and ride away. Brain damage, thought Hal again, reflecting on his colleague's simple faith. Well, maybe his own plan of picking up some odds and ends of Wodan's gold was no more practical. But he could not be sure of that until he knew more, much more, than he did.
Patiently Hal persisted with his questioning. "Suppose we do find out which individual gnomes are going to do the farrier-work. We still—"
"I know that," Baldur calmly interrupted. "A name, and where he lives."
"You do? How?"
The youth was silent.
After a moment Hal pressed on. "So you not only know which village these farriers live in, but—somehow—one of their names."
Baldur said nothing.
Hal pressed on again. "What if they don't want us to travel with them, even partway? And how do you know that gnomes setting out on a journey won't be riding cameloids or driving a coach with droms? It's pretty certain we won't. We don't have any."
"I told you not to worry about the cameloids," Baldur assured him vaguely. "Of course it may be that the gnomes will want to discourage our going with them." He paused thoughtfully. "But I just might be able to find the Horses anyway, even if the gnomes are no help."
"You might? How?"
Again they seemed to have reached an area where Baldur was reluctant to reveal certain matters to his partner. He did explain to Hal that he had come to know one of Wodan's noble steeds by name, the very one that Brunhild had used to ride. That particular Horse had become Baldur's friend, had eaten lumps of sugar, sometimes apples, from his hand. "Its name is Gold Mane. I think that Horse would come to me, if I should call it."
"Call it how?"
"I mean if I were to summon it by magic—assuming you and I could put together some kind of effective spell—the beast might well come to me, across the miles."
"I didn't know that you were any kind of a magician. I'm not."
"Oh, I'm not either, really. Not on a professional level. But when I was a child, I did manage a spell or two."
Hal thought it over. "Better not try anything of the kind unless we have no other option."
"I agree."
In response to careful questioning, Baldur admitted that yes, he had actually even ridden Gold Mane once or twice—which, of course, was a secret that Hal must promise never to divulge to anyone.
"I promise," said Hal, thinking it was no wonder that Brunhild had got herself into deep trouble.
The details of the plan changed as the two men talked it over. But Baldur never wavered in his claim that he had ridden on a Horse, that he could ride a Horse again, given the chance, and that any Horse he got his hands on could carry him safely through the wall of fire.
Again he described how he had once seen Alvit, Hildy's friend and sister Valkyrie, perform that very feat. It did worry Baldur somewhat that Alvit had refused to tell him much in the way of detail about Brunhild's condition on the other side. She would say only that the girl was lying in an enchanted sleep.
And so it went. Hal's tentative, private plan, which at the start had seemed little more than a joke, ready to evaporate at the first touch of opposition, was beginning to take on aspects of reality.
Still, there were moments in which it seemed to Hal that he must be brain-damaged himself even to be considering such an undertaking. Even before being hit on the head, Baldur could not have been one of the world's keenest wits. Experience counseled that the only sane thing for a seasoned man of the world to do, in Hal's situation, was to resume his own original northward trek, without pausing to look back. He would say a quick goodbye to the youth with the dented helmet and skull to match, and to all of Baldur's friends and relatives—yes, including Matilda. As far as Hal could tell, none of them had much more sense than Wodan's youthful worshiper.
And yet . . . and yet. There still remained the tantalizing fragment of golden horseshoe, a silent challenge in the form of heavy, real, and lustrous metal. The trouble was that all by itself, that single shard of gold probably wouldn't begin to buy him all he needed for a comfortable retirement. Without any firm idea of current prices, here or in his homeland, Hal could only guess. Maybe his bit of gold would purchase him one plow, along with a pair of droms to pull the plow across the patch of farmland he could not yet afford.
He thought that if he ever saw Matilda again, he might ask her how much she thought her dowry of farmland might be worth in gold. But it didn't take long to come up with several reasons why putting such a question might be unwise.
Alternatively, the piece now in his pouch might pay for no more than one truly glorious celebration—if Hal could think of anything to celebrate.
His real trouble, it crossed his mind to speculate, might be that he still found scheming and struggling to get gold a hell of a lot more fun than farming.
Common sense warned him that there would be only faint chances of success, and probably heavy risks, messing around with the magical property of a god. From Hal's point of view, he might be only picking up a few scraps that their owner would never miss, but Wodan might see the business in an entirely different way. Wodan was not just any god, but one who wanted to be known as the All-Highest, and so far had got away with it.
But on the other hand, when Hal pictured himself returning to his northern home as a poor man in threadbare garments, practically a stranger among folk he had not seen for many years, it was all too easy to imagine the looks of disdain he'd get, the lack of any real welcome . . . the image immediately stiffened his resolve. He could not simply turn his back on what might be a golden opportunity—certainly not just yet. He would have to search and probe a little farther.
For the time being, he would continue to go along with Baldur's plan, just as if he really had some confidence in it. Go along, at least until the two of them had visited the village of the gnomes, and he, Hal, had learned as much as he could there on the subjects of gold and gods.
Baldur, in his desperate craving to rejoin Brunhild, was ready to try anything, and the young man's faith in his own crazy plan now seemed unshakeable. What had seemed a bare possibility only a few days ago was now a certainty in his mind, if only he could come within reach of a Horse.
Hal openly allowed that he had certain reservations about the feasibility of that scheme. But he hastily added that he was ready to go along with it for the time being. Privately he had decided to argue the young man into some more realistic plan as soon as he could think of one; or dissolve their partnership if and when the chance of getting near the gold began to loom as a real possibility.
Of course the idea of just getting on one of Wodan's Horses and riding it away sounded completely crazy. But then, the longer Hal thought about it, the more he realized that as odd and dangerous
as the idea sounded, it might not be totally insane. His own experience with gods, admittedly not vast, had taught him a few things. The Face of any deity was bound to confer some great power on its wearer, but it did not necessarily improve intelligence or even guarantee competence in practical matters. The mightiest divinity could, and sometimes had, come to grief through his or her own all-too-human foolishness, forgetfulness and oversight. As it was with ordinary men and women, so it was with gods. A god or goddess, after all, was no more than a human being who had put on one of the ancient and indestructible Faces loaded with odylic magic.
Over the next night or two, as the moon rose later and later, waxing inexorably toward full, Hal and Baldur were careful not even to hint at their true intentions to anyone in the family or village. Meanwhile, they ostentatiously made preparations for a fishing trip—part of the local lore of fishing said late fall was the best time for certain catches.
Baldur told his partner: "We may have to buy a few things—provisions and clothing for the trip. Especially as it seems we will be going up into the mountains."
"I have a little money," Hal admitted cautiously. He had somewhat replenished his otherwise depleted purse at the expense of the would-be robber. "But let's wait, if we can, to buy the mountain gear until we've traveled a way—we still want our departure to look like a simple fishing trip."
"Good idea."
Even if they stayed in the valleys, the strong possibility of cold weather was upon them, this late in the season. There was no telling when the first snow and real hard freeze were going to come along, and acquiring warm clothing and boots gave away no secrets.
Baldur privately remarked that it was fortunate that they would be able to go most of the way to gnome's territory, downstream by water.
Meanwhile, Hal had been casually asking Holah and Noden for information about gnomes, and the boys had been cheerfully telling him some ghastly stories. These tales, of human infants kidnapped and human miners suffocated in subterranean blackness by gnomic treachery, had made Hal wonder if there were not some way to avoid visiting Gnomeland at all. Now he asked his partner: "If we go there, will we be expected to descend into one of their mines?"