«Why would that be?»
«So near is the balance of strength, gods against giants, that the issue of what will happen at the Time hangs by a thread. If we come late to the field we shall surely lose; the giants will hold the issues against our mustering. And I am here— here in this cell — with my gift of eyesight that can see them in time to warn. I am here, and the Gjallarhorn, the roaring trumpet that would call gods and heroes to the field, is at Sverre’s house.»
Shea asked: «Why don’t the Æsir attack the giants before the giants are ready, if they know there’s going to be a war anyway?»
Heimdalj stared at him. «You know not the Law of the Nine Worlds, Harald. We Æsir cannot attack the giants all together before the Time. Men and gods live by law; else they would be but giants.»
He began to pace back and forth with rapid steps, his forehead set in a frown. Shea noted that even at this moment the Sleepless One was careful to place one foot before the other to best display the litheness of his walk.
«Surely they’ll miss you,» said Shea. «Can’t they set other guards to watch the giants get together, or» — he finished lamely at the glint in Heimdall’s eye — «something?»
«A mortal’s thoughts! Aye!» Heimdall gave a short bark of bitter laughter. «Set other guards, here and there! Listen, Turnip Harald; Harald the fool. Of all us Æsir, Frey is the best, the only one who can stand before Surt with weapons in hand. Yet the worlds are so made, and we cannot change it, that one race Frey fears. Against the frost giants he has no power. Only I, I and my sword Head, can deal with them; and if I am not there to lead my band against the frost giants, we shall live to something less than a ripe old age thereafter.»
«I’m sorry — sir,» said Shea.
«Aye. No matter. Come, let us play the game of questions. Few and ill are the thoughts that rise from brooding.»
* * *
For hours they plied each other with queries about their respective worlds. In that ominous place, time could be measured only by meals and the periodic shrieks of «Yngvi is a louse!» About the eighth of these cries, Stegg came out of his somnolent state, went out, and returned with a pile of bowls. These he set in front of the cells. Each bowl had a spoon; one was evidently expected to do one’s eating through the bars. As the troll put the bowls in front of Shea’s cell, he remarked loftily: «King see subjects eat.»
The mess he put in them consisted of some kind of porridge with small lumps of fish in it, sour to the taste. Shea did not blame his fellow prisoners when they broke into loud complaints about the quality and quantity of the food. Stegg paid not the slightest attention, relapsing into his chair till they had finished, when he gathered up the bowls and carried them out.
The next time the door opened, it was not Stegg but another troll. In the flickering torchlight this one was, if possible, less handsome than his predecessor. His face was built around a nose of such astonishing proportions that it projected a good eighteen inches, and he moved with a quick, catlike stride. The prisoners, who had been fairly noisy while Stegg was in charge, now fell silent.
The new jailer stepped quickly to Shea’s cell. «You new arrivals?» he snapped. «I am Snögg. You be good, nothing hurt you. You be bad, zzzp.» He made a motion with his finger to indicate the cutting of a throat, and turning his back on them, paced down the row of cells, peering suspiciously into each.
Shea had never in his life slept on a stone floor. So he was surprised, an indefinite time later, to awaken and discover that he had done it for the first time, with the result of being stiff.
He got up, stretching. «How long have I been asleep?» he asked Heimdall.
«I do not know that. Our fellow prisoner, who dislikes someone called Yngvi, ceased his shouting some time since.»
The long-nosed jailer was still pacing. Still muzzy with sleep, Shea could not remember his name, and called out:
«Hey, you with the nose! How long before break —»
The troll had turned on him, shrieking: «What you call me? You stinking worm! I — zzzp!» He ran down to the alcove, face distorted with fury, and returned with a bucket of water which he sloshed into Shea’s surprised face. «You son of unwed parents!» raged he. «I roast you with slow fire! I am Snögg. I am master! You use right name.»
Heimdall was laughing silently at the back of the cell.
Shea murmured: «That’s one way of getting a bath at all events. I guess our friend Snögg is sensitive about his nose.
«That is not un-evident,» said Heimdall. «Hai! How many troubles the children of men would save themselves, could they but have the skill of the gods for reading the thought that lies behind the lips. Half of all they suffer, I would wager.»
«Speaking of wagers, Sleepless One,» said Shea, «I see how we can run a race to pass the time.»
«This cage is somewhat less than spacious,» objected Heimdall. «What are you doing? It is to be trusted that you do not mean an eating race with those cockroaches.»
«No. I’m going to race them. Here’s yours. You can tell him by his broken feeler.»
«The steed is not of the breed,» observed Heimdall, taking the insect. «Still, I will name him Gold Top, after my horse. What will you call yours, and how shall we race them?»
Shea said: «I shall call mine Man o’ War after a famous horse in our world.» He smoothed down the dust on the floor, and drew a circle in it with his finger. «Now,» he explained, let us release our racers in The centre of the circle, and the one whose roach crossed the rim first shall win.»
«A good sport. What shall the wager be? A crown?»
«Seeing that neither of us has any money at all,» said Shea, «why don’t we shoot the works and make it fifty crowns?»
«Five hundred if you wish.»
Man o’ War won the first race. Snögg, hearing the activity in the cell, hustled over. «What you do?» he demanded. Shea explained. «Oh,» sniffed the troll. «All right, you do. Not too noisy, though. I stop if you do.» He stalked away, but was soon back again to watch the sport. Gold Top won the second race — Man o’ War the third and fourth. Shea, glancing up, suppressed an impulse to tweak the sesquipedalian nose that the troll had thrust through the bars.
By and by Snögg went out and was replaced by Stegg, who did not even notice the cockroach racing. As he hoisted himself into his chair, Shea asked whether he could get them some sort of small box or basket.
«Why you want?» asked Stegg.
Shea explained he wanted it to keep the cockroaches in.
Stegg raised his eyebrows. «I too big for this things,» he said loftily and refused to answer another word.
So they had to let the racers go, rather than hold them in their hands all day. But Shea saved a little of his breakfast and later, by using it as bait, they captured two more cockroaches.
This time, after a few victories for Shea, Heimdall’s roach began to win consistently. By the time the man across the passage had yelled «Yngvi is a louse!» four times Shea found himself Heimdall’s debtor to the extent of something like thirty million crowns. It made him suspicious. He watched the golden god narrowly during the next race, then burst out:
«Say, that’s not fair! You’re fixing my cockroach with your glittering eye and slowing him up!»
«What, mortal! Dare you accuse one of the Æsir?»
«You’re damn right, I dare! If you’re going to use your special powers, I won’t play.»
A smile slowly spread across Heimdall’s face. «Young Harald, you do not lack for boldness, and I have said before that you show glimmerings of wit. In truth, I have slowed up your steed; it is not meet that one of the Æsir should be beaten at aught by a mortal. But come, let that one go, and we will begin again with new mounts, for I fear that animal of yours will never again be the same.»