"Meet you in Gimle," she said over her shoulder.
"Sure thing," I replied. "I'll be the one with the red carnation in my buttonhole and carrying a copy of the Times." Then to the frost giants I said, "All right, boys. Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough."
They sneered, snarled, and charged.
They were just metres away when clusters of brilliant little laser dots painted the battlements between them and us, swirling on the snow-capped stonework. Wisely, they halted. The laser dots then swept upwards to mark Freya and me.
I braced myself, but no flechette rounds came. The message was clear. Don't move a muscle, or they'll be cleaning you up with a mop and bucket.
As we stood there pinned in place, a fur-clad figure exited Nagelfar and strode towards the castle, passing briskly between the last few JOTUNs and SURTs, which backed away respectfully.
"Well, howdy there," the figure called up, reaching the base of the castle wall. "And how're you two doing this fine day?"
"Smashing," I said. "And you?"
"Oh now, let me see. Almost all of the folks I hate the most are now dead. Me and my jotun buddies appear to have conquered Asgard. And Midgard's official biggest pain in the bee-hind is currently stuck with more laser sights trained on him than a sow's got teats."
Mrs Keener beamed at me, happy as a bride on her wedding day.
"All in all, I'd say I'm just peachy, wouldn't you?"
Sixty-Six
We stood huddled in the shadow of Nagelfar — everyone from our side who was still alive and not bedridden in the field hospital. Shockingly few of us. We looked bedraggled and downcast. Beaten. Hollowed by defeat and humiliated by surrender.
Epic fail, as Cody might have said.
It sickened me. Not just that we'd lost, but that we'd lost so thoroughly. I wanted to believe there was some way we could reverse the situation and still pull off a victory, but frankly that wasn't looking any too likely. We'd been disarmed, and frost giants surrounded us in throngs, and beyond them the tanksuits were loitering, along with Nagelfar's guns. Some kind of last-ditch comeback was just too tall an order.
Mrs Keener was having a high old time. Strutting up and down in front of us, looking all preeny and disdainful.
"So this is it, huh?" she said. "All done and dusted. To be honest I'd been expecting more of a challenge. All this time, knowing Odin, I was thinking I was gonna be in for some serious opposition. I went to a whole heap of trouble having these here heavy-duty vehicles built, and turns out I hardly needed 'em. Talk about disappointment. I feel as let down as a pussycat with an inflatable mouse."
"All right, all right," I said testily. "We get it. You've won. No need to rub it in."
She snapped round to look at me. "No need? Oh, there's every need, big guy. I've waited a long time for my revenge on the Aesir. Tucked away underground for ages — ages — suffering the torments of the damned, I dreamed of nothing else. This is my moment and I am determined to wring every last drop of enjoyment out of it I can."
"Look, Mrs Keener… Loki?… No, I'm going to stick with Mrs Keener… Look, Mrs Keener, nobody here is in a position to do you any further harm. Let your prisoners go. There's no question that Asgard is yours. The decent thing to do now would be show some compassion."
She seemed astonished. "Let them go? The very idea! Who do you take me for, sir?"
"The men at least. The mortals. What else are you going to do with them? Mass execution?"
"It had crossed my mind. Are you trying to plead for your own life?"
"Not mine specifically. Everyone's."
She stepped closer to me, and in spite of everything I couldn't help thinking how flat-out ravishing she was. Someone this beautiful and this bewitching, it was easy to see how she could have enslaved a world.
"What if I offered you a deal… Gideon, is it? What if I agreed to what you're asking, but at a price?"
"The price being…?" I said, suspecting.
"What do you think?"
"Just say it."
"You." Almost a purr. "You've sure been a tick under my saddle and I'd like to make an example outta you. And it occurs to me you might try and get yourself killed tryin' to escape, or something like that. So you promise to come meekly, in exchange for the lives of all these other guys."
"What by you mean by 'example'? Would this be a sex thing by any chance?"
"Oh, you! You know full well it ain't. I mean you peacefully submit to a big old spectacular execution, and the rest go free, just like you want. You have my word on that."
My throat was crackly-dry. My stomach felt like I was both constipated and about to pebbledash my Y-fronts at the same time. A voice in my head was screaming No!
"Okay," I croaked.
To my right there was a soft sigh. I didn't look round. That was where Freya was. There were also murmurs from the other prisoners — surprise, hope maybe.
"But they live," I went on. "I want your guarantee on that. They live and they go home safe and sound."
"You have it."
"Gid, Loki is a trickster," Vidar croaked from amongst the crowd. "You cannot trust him."
"Oh hush up, you," Mrs Keener said. "Don't you pay him no mind, Gid. Whatever anyone might say, I do possess a sense of honour. Shake on it?"
We did. Her hand cold in mine, and slender, but strong. Then Bergelmir stepped up and grabbed me roughly by the collar. His issgeisl was raised and ready.
"It will not be swift, human," he said in a voice thick with emotion. "A hundred cuts or more. By the end I will have you pleading to be put out of your misery."
Mrs Keener caught his arm. "No, Bergelmir. Not now. Not like this. I reckon Gid deserves something a little more… exotic. And I have just the thing in mind."
"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.