'' And?'' Gaelinar prompted.
Larson struggled for clarity of thought, and the effort made him irritable. "And I don't fully believe either of them. Hel must have kept her end of the bargain. Bramin's free. She had to compensate his release with someone else. Who but Silme would be recently dead and have anywhere near Bramin's power? So, right now, Hel is the only one I trust." He appended hastily, "And the two of you, of course." He paused as memory stumbled through the mists of his sleeplessness. Just last night, Taziar said something about trusting only him and Gaelinar. He glanced at Taziar who hid a smile behind a mouthful of stew. "How did you know…?"
"Lucky guess." The irony in Taziar's voice was unmistakable.
Larson suspected Taziar had learned some revealing piece of information on his journey to the Bifrost Bridge. But before he could question further, Gaelinar interrupted. "So we're back to the same task. And our bargaining with Hel only gained us another powerful enemy."
Larson fidgeted in his chair, the food forgotten. "Uh, not exactly."
His companions waited for an explanation.
Choosing his words with care, Larson detailed the promises exchanged with Bramin in Vietnam.
In response, Gaelinar chewed thoughtfully. "Very honorable, hero. But I suggest you pay as much heed to Bramin's words as to his intentions. I doubt he would directly break a vow, but he might find ways around it."
Larson nodded. That had already occurred to him, and he had tried to phrase his requests to Bramin appropriately. "What do we do now? Do we go after the rod? Or do we try to find some oracle or sorcerer to locate Silme?"
Gaelinar and Taziar exchanged knowing glances. "May I?" the Cullinsbergen asked.
Gaelinar lowered his head in assent.
Taziar pushed aside his empty bowl. "Do you have cause to trust Bramin?"
Larson picked at his roll. "Well, no, but…"
Taziar continued. "Has Vidarr ever lied to you before?"
"I don't think so, but…"
Taziar broke in again. "Will you agree most people find being called a liar offensive?''
Unable to get a word in, Larson stuffed the remainder of his bread into his mouth and nodded acceptance.
"You already have a deal with Bramin; you can offend him with impunity. But insulting a god might have… um… certain consequences."
Larson recalled the words of a war buddy in Vietnam: Sure I believe in God. If He doesn't exist, it don't make no difference, and if He does, I'm covered. Taziar's statement held the same inarguable logic. Whether or not Vidarr is lying now, I want him on my side when I go after Silme. She's out of Hel; we don't have to worry about time anymore. Once we've retrieved Geirmagnus' rod, Vidarr will owe us a favor. Even if he doesn't feel obligated to help us save Silme, Baldur certainly will.
"Besides…" Gaelinar said.
Larson was startled. It took him a moment to realize Gaelinar was addressing the question about consulting an oracle rather than Larson's thoughts.
"… you told Bramin you would fight him after you attempted to retrieve Geirmagnus' rod. It would dishonor you to make such a vow, then go wandering off to do other things."
Larson swallowed, gazing from Gaelinar to Taziar and back. "Neither of you has a stake in this rod thing. Why are you both suddenly eager to complete the quest?"
Again, Larson's companions exchanged glances. Taziar replied. "The Kensei and I had a talk while you thrashed last night. Baldur has other relatives. Most are not as patient or nice as Vidarr. If we delay too long, we may earn the wrath of gods. I enjoy a good challenge, but being crushed by Odin doesn't sound like fun to me." He changed the subject abruptly, as if he had received some nonverbal signal, perhaps a kick or poke from Gae-linar beneath the table. "We decided one other thing, too."
Taziar paused for so long, Larson felt obligated to ask. "And that is?"
Taziar stared at his hands. "I'm not going with you."
Larson looked sharply at Gaelinar who shrugged his innocence.
Taziar noted the exchange. "Allerum, it was my decision. You already agreed to convince Silme to take As-tryd on as apprentice. There's no reason for all of us to die on your quest."
Larson fought down rising aggravation. After all, I told him the same thing yesterday. He's twice saved my life. I think that makes up for loosing Fenrir. "How will we find you and Astryd?"
Taziar rose from the table. "I'll meet you here. When you get back, I'll buy you a drink. You'll need it." He trotted to the hearth fire and shouldered the gray linen pack which held his supplies. "I'll head back to the Dragonrank school and see if I can find out anything about Silme while you're gone. When I last left Astryd, I told her I would return the following day. She probably thinks I'm dead, a misconception I would eagerly correct." He trotted for the door.
"Shadow, wait!" Larson stood.
Hand on the pull ring of the door, Taziar turned.
Larson crossed the room. He retrieved Baldur's stone from his pocket and pressed it into Taziar's hand. "Take this. It's worth a small fortune and ought to keep you out of trouble for a while."
Taziar studied the gem in his palm, then turned a smile on Larson. "I learned something years ago. No man or woman and no amount of money could keep me out of trouble." He flipped the stone back to Larson, opened the door, and slipped out into the morning light.
Larson caught the trinket and kneaded it between his fingers while he watched Taziar go. "I'll miss the little jerk," he mumbled in English.
A few hours' journey through the pine forest brought Gaelinar and Larson to the base of a mountain range.
Beyond the trees, gray peaks stretched skyward. Choosing a different route toward Geirmagnus' estate, Gaelinar trudged up the hillside until he passed the timberline. Larson followed without comment. Snow capped the summits, whitened the scrub at the edge of the forest, and coated the meadows and ridges beyond it.
They followed the tree line. It seemed odd to Larson that Gaelinar chose to lead him along thickets, boulder covered fields, and gorges when a few steps would take them into the forest. Perhaps Gaelinar has grown as tired of the endless trees and underbrush as Shadow, and he thinks the mountainous terrain might provide a welcome change. It also placed them in the open, but Fenrir had already shown he could locate his quarry easily even in the cover of forest.
Snow-slicked rocks among the crushed, brown foliage of the meadows kept Larson's attention on his footing. By midday, he had found his second wind. Then, too, a vague, unnameable discomfort settled over him. His steps grew more cautious. The sudden rattle of falling stones from behind startled him. Larson jumped, nearly sliding from a precariously situated ledge. "Gaelinar, are we being followed?"
"Yes," Gaelinar replied in a matter-of-fact manner.
"Fenrir?"
"Bramin."
"Oh." Larson mulled over this bit of news. "Why would Bramin follow us?"
"I don't know." Gaelinar stepped around a large, ungrounded rock. "Whatever his reason, he wants us to know he's there. He can move silently as wind if he chooses. I'd guess he's trying to unnerve you. Of course, we could turn around and ask him."
"Never mind." Larson pushed onward, reminded of Gaelinar's words when Taziar had joined them. "A wise man once said 'An enemy within sword range is safer than one concealed.' "
Gaelinar smiled. "And it might do you well to listen to that wise man now and again."
They continued on into the day, always traveling parallel to the dwarf pines, aspens, and poplars which de-fined the timberline. Well before dark, Gaelinar began taking an inordinate interest in the many caves which dotted the hillside.