The god looked stricken. His eyes glazed with moisture, and his fingers gripped the arms of his throne with desperate self-sacrifice. "Forgive me, please. You must believe I did not know. Vidarr is good, and he surely meant you no harm. Love for a woman, a sister, a brother can make even a god do things against his nature. And my mother's hope for retrieving her youngest child might have spurred my father to pressure Vidarr. Odin is the one even the gods do not dare to cross." He plucked the painted stone from his thigh. "I have no means to communicate with my family. Otherwise, I would insist they not demand from you. The kindness you performed for me was appreciated. Were it within my power, I would make them realize I would rather remain here for eternity than allow them to torture you."
Aware Vidarr could read his every thought, Larson smiled. "You don't realize it, but you may have just told them. I'm not mad at you. Once I've returned to Mid-gard, I will do everything in my power to free you from Hel." Larson was surprised by his own sincerity.
Repeatedly, Baldur turned the gemstone between his fingers. "Because of my brother?"
"No," Larson insisted. "Because I want to."
Baldur reached out, stone pinched between his thumb and first finger. "You keep this. My mother left it on my pyre. It's worth a rich man's share of gold, but it's scant payment for the favor you've done me."
Larson accepted the stone, realizing as he did that Hel had reached the center of her chamber. He eyed the sword at Baldur's hip. "One more thing. Can you keep the corpses from the room and the doorway while I talk with Hel?"
Baldur nodded. "They won't enter the chamber while Hel is in conference. I can't do much, but I'll help as I can."
Larson settled for the vague promise, then trotted into the room to meet with the half dead queen of Hel.
She watched Larson approach through narrowed eyes. Tangled blonde hair framed features sharp with angry accusation. "So… you have… returned… murderer. "
The statement required no reply, but Larson spoke before Hel could continue in her maddeningly halting style. "I am no murderer, lady. I killed your father in self-defense. I understand your grief, but it wasn't my fault." Hel's mouth quivered, but Larson continued before she could respond. "I have returned to ask you to free Silme with Bramin to balance the trade."
Hel shifted from one rotted leg to the other. "No."
"No?" Larson allowed surprise to color his tone. Hel's refusal annoyed him every bit as much as learning that Gaelinar had been correct, as always. "You can't refuse. You promised on your oaths to Odin you would not oppose Silme's return to Midgard."
"And… I… will… keep… my… word." Hel stared at Larson directly and with dignity. "But… I… made… no similar… promise… for… Bramin. He… stays. Without him as… counterbalance… the Fates… will… prevent… Silme's escape."
Each tedious syllable further enraged Larson. "Why? Why would you do that? Bramin is more powerful than Silme. The trade can only strengthen your cause."
Hel's expression never changed. "My… legion… is… my strength. The… dead… are my… subjects. Releasing… even one… weakens… me. And… you… are… requesting… two of my… most mighty…"
Impatient, Larson interrupted. "Without life force, neither can cast spells. And, with time, they will lose all memory and become no more valuable than any other."
"Eventually. Until… then… they… strengthen… my power. Besides… if I… free… Bramin and… Silme… every man… on Midgard… would… come… seeking… his dead. To… give in… to even… one… would… take all… permanence and… all… glory from… death."
Hel's words spun through Larson's mind like fragments of dream. He saw truth in them and understood, but the cause of Silme's life still seemed more important than any rule of nature. "I had hoped to bargain peacefully, but you leave me no choice. My companion holds Modgudr prisoner. If I do not come back or I return unsuccessful, he will kill her."
Hel's face remained locked in its gloomy pall, but her eyes flashed in the candlelight. "I… don't… believe you."
"That is your prerogative."
Larson waited in a silence which jarred every nerve while Hel considered. He kept his face expressionless.
"Prove… it."
"How?"
Another long pause.
Larson bided his time with admirable patience. He recalled the uncertainty which characterized his previous actions. No doubt, Gaelinar's example and his own arguments with Vidarr had fueled his confidence. When Hel did not speak after a full minute, Larson took control of the conversation. "Surely you know we got past Modgudr, her dragon, and the Hel hound on our last visit. Do you doubt Gaelinar's ability to capture Modgudr?"
"Fool!" Hel shook her head, and a snarl of golden hair obscured her face. "If… you… moved Modgudr… from… her post… the dead… will… escape… Hel. The… havoc… they wreak… will seem… minor… compared with… the wrath… Odin… will… bring… down… upon me… you… and your… stupid… companion. Odin… has… no… room… in his heart… for mercy. Men… and… gods… live… only… to furnish… him… sport…"
The description sent a chill through Larson, but his love for Silme remained, reducing fear to an obscuring fog. Purpose drove him to speak with Gaelinar's reckless courage. "Lady, if Silme remains in Hel, there is nothing Odin can do to make my life more miserable. I do not fear him. It is your stubbornness which will bring his wrath upon us. If you agree to my demands, we will free Modgudr unharmed.''
The grim-eyed goddess quivered with anger. "You… would… let… your selfish… love… for a… woman result… in hordes… of the dead… running… free… to torture… the… living?"
"Yes," Larson said. He hid the lie behind his best poker face and hoped his eyes would not betray him. "You made it clear that if we killed you, it would only result in your staying here." He tossed a casual gesture over one shoulder. "Judging by Baldur, I would guess death would not change you. But, lady, there are worse things a man can do with a sword than kill. " The room echoed with the sudden sound of Larson's sword clearing its sheath.
Hel did not flinch. "You'll… never… leave… my hall… alive. I will… turn… my hordes… against… you!"
Larson hesitated. His Gaelinar-like maneuver had achieved much the same results as the Kensei's threats in the Dragonrank school, and Larson liked them even less now that he stood alone. Still, it was too late to change his approach. "Hmmm. You keep Silme and Bramin and kill me. I get the satisfaction of torturing you before Odin gets to you and of knowing Modgudr dies with me." He stood in mock contemplation, then shrugged. "Sounds fair." He took a menacing step toward Hel, trusting Bal-dur to hold the corpses at bay.
"Wait." Hel spoke with uncharacteristic speed. "We can… find… an agreeable… compromise."
Larson's fear was forgotten in a moment of fierce triumph. "No compromises. You free Silme and Bramin. Then you allow Gaelinar and me to leave your lands completely unmolested. In exchange, we won't harm you or Modgudr. We won't allow any ghosts to escape while Modgudr is captive, and we won't tell anyone who doesn't already know that we raised Silme from the dead."
Hel gathered her shattered composure. Ignoring Larson's naked sword, she leaned toward him conspiratori-ally. "Accepted. With… one… further condition." She stared beyond Larson.
Larson resisted the urge to follow her gaze and watched the goddess distrustfully. "Which is?"
"That… you… send… five… souls to… replace… each of… them. Their… identities… and… philosophies… do not concern me. They… can… be your… enemies… or strangers. Adults… or… children. But… they… must… come to me… not… Odin's… Valhalla. You… must… not kill… them in fair… combat."
Desperation forced Larson to consider Hel's offer, but his morality would not allow him to accept it. "The deal is as I said. I will not compromise."
"Neither… will…1."
Larson accepted Hel's decision with dour fatalism. He doubted he could fight his way past Hel's minions. Yet, he could condone his own death more easily than he could take the lives of more innocents. Trusting that Gaelinar would release Modgudr and not allow the corpses free run of Midgard, Larson sealed his own fate. "Then you leave me no choice." He raised his sword. Smoke from the candles swirled like ghosts around the blade.