Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) (44 page)

Eventually there was a brief silence, then Rig turned to Arvid, “I must say, I admire your courage, Your Highness. Some would definitely see your plan as risky; others would even call it dangerous. Nevertheless, it is more than welcomed by most of the dwarven houses.”

Arvid didn’t understand what he meant. What should she say to that?

“I’m not so easily intimidated,” she said, inwardly praying that her voice sounded firm enough to make her words convincing. “If one doesn’t take risks, one would never achieve anything. Especially this particular matter brooks no further delay, if you ask me.”

“I share your opinion, Your Highness,” Rig said. “One reason why the dwarven houses of Fermalenia immediately wanted to express their will to support you. For two hundred years Jördendheim’s indignation against Isvirndjellen has constrained our trade with the humans.” He noisily took a big gulp of beer, then he roared with laughter. “I must confess, many of us wouldn’t have expected such new ways of thinking from the giants for decades—and now a human goddess of Asgard is part of the royal family. Nobody saw that coming.”

Arvid hesitated. Rig clearly believed that she belonged to Asgard, even though the opposite was the case and they saw her as a threat. What other lies had the giants told Rig and the dwarves?

“I’m glad you welcome these changes,” Arvid said firmly. “I am grateful for your encouragement and your support.”

“Tell me,” Rig said now, leaning across the table, “what exactly are your plans for the coming months? How exactly do you propose to improve relations with Asgard and Jördendheim?”

Arvid felt Loke and Byleist’s eyes resting on her and felt an undercurrent of anger inside. How could they just present the dwarves with all these wrong facts, in which she clearly played a central role, without talking to her first, or at least warning her? She had no clue about diplomacy and politics and knew next to nothing about the relations between the three kingdoms. What should she tell Rig? What did the giants expect her to tell him?

Arvid suppressed the impulse to throw Loke a help-seeking look. Instead, she said, “We must not rush things now; that would do more harm than good. But once the time is right, we need to seek dialogue with the gods of Asgard and try to find compromises.”

Rig nodded. “I see you are at one with your husband when it comes to waiting for the right time.”

“We are always at one,” asserted Loke.

Arvid gave him a withering look, but he just grinned. “My wife is very committed to our human servants. Soon there will be a few changes warmly welcomed by Jördendheim. I expect that the currently tense situation will improve significantly within the next year.”

“I fully agree,” said Arvid, now burgeoning with defiance. “Eventually, all servants shall receive payment and free time to also pursue other activities.”

“Very ambitious goals,” Byleist interjected, laughing, “but who knows what the next few decades will bring. After all, the world’s constantly changing, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Rig agreed. “As you already said, Your Highness: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

The longer the conversation lasted, the more tense Arvid was. Her defiance gave her a sense of security that seemed to convince Rig, but she was still glad when the matter of servants eventually was settled. The topic again fell on trade relations and contracts, so Byleist and Katta did all the talking. Nevertheless, Arvid was feeling more and more nervous during the discussion and uncomfortably shifted forth and back in her chair.

She was relieved when Katta eventually offered to show Rig the brewery of the fortress, and the bearded dwarf agreed. Byleist insinuated that he still had work to do, and Arvid was careful not to say anything that could lead the two men to invite her, too.

After the three had left, only she and Loke remained in the room. Arvid groaned softly. She had no idea how long she had been sitting here, but it must have been many hours. Her neck ached horribly.

“Clean up here and waste no time,” Loke told Hemett, who was still standing in the corner.

“Please,” Arvid added, scowling at Loke. If the giants left her no choice but to act as if she suddenly wanted to improve the relations between humans and giants, then she would actually do that. Again Loke just smirked, but when Arvid wanted to leave, he quickly grabbed her by the arm.

“Wait,” he said. “I have to talk to you.”

“Fine,” said Arvid. She sat down on one of the long-legged chairs and waited while Hemett cleared away the remains of the food. Actually, she had not the slightest desire to talk with Loke. She was still angry.

No sooner had Hemett gone and closed the door to the hall, Arvid also expressed this anger. “What was that all about?” she asked sharply. “Why are you telling the dwarves such fairytales? I don’t belong to Asgard and I have no damn desire to tell all visitors political tall tales from now on!”

“You were good,” Loke said, unfazed by her outburst, “very credible. And you’re usually such a bad liar.”

“I didn’t lie,” Arvid said coolly. “I only expressed myself so vaguely that it somehow matched the whole story. And you know what? I
will
demand that the servants in this fortress get time for leisure! If you want to exploit the fact that I’m a human, then you will have to live with me actually standing up for their rights!”

“That’s nice,” Loke said quietly and slowly walked toward her. “Yes, I think I would like that very much.” His gaze was so persuasive that Arvid stopped short.

“The whole thing was my mother’s the idea,” Loke said, “and was initially a misunderstanding. Word spread quickly that you had invited all servants to our wedding. Oh, I’d love to tell you more about it, but…” He came closer, and Arvid watched in amazement as his body suddenly changed and became smaller. Shortly thereafter she was facing a human woman with black, curly hair. She got so close that Arvid could see the freckles on her nose. “Well, I was wondering,” Loke whispered, “have you ever done it with a woman, Arvid?”

Arvid was so taken aback that she couldn’t speak, but just shook her head. The female figure was well known to her. It was the same body in which she had encountered Loke at the beginning of the Light Turning Festival in Vero-Maghen. The eyes were blue now, the hair a little shorter, but other than that this woman was still as stunningly beautiful as ever. Arvid had not felt attracted to women in her entire life, but suddenly this didn’t seem to matter anymore.

“Would you like to try it?” Loke asked softly, tenderly caressing Arvid’s cheek.

“Well, I… I never thought about it,” Arvid said haltingly, then she swallowed hard. “Would you actually… would you… I mean…” She broke off and took a deep breath. “Do you feel attracted to women, when… when you’re a woman… yourself?”

In an infinitely gentle movement Loke stroked his finger across Arvid’s lower lip, so softly it made her shiver.

“I’m not a woman,” Loke said, “and I’m not a man either. What is gender? Only a feature, a shell.”

Arvid looked into Loke’s blue human eyes, but what she saw was nothing more than what she had always seen. The being in front of her was Loke, and it confused her more than ever.

Suddenly and without warning Loke started to laugh loudly. “I just wanted to tease you,” he said and pushed himself back from the chair. “You should have seen your face. You probably thought I had lost my mind.”

Arvid couldn’t speak and sat there petrified. How could he confuse and unsettle her so? Only to trifle with her?

Before she could say anything, Loke said, “The whole story with the dwarves is hardly believable. Who would have guessed that your peculiar wedding wish would bring us such an advantage?” He ran his hands through his bushy black hair. “Suddenly they are willing to discuss new trade relations with us. Previously they had inhibitions because they knew they would simultaneously attract Jördendheim’s reluctance.”

Finally Arvid had gotten over her surprise. “Loke!” she exclaimed angrily.

“Yes, dear?”

“That was not funny!” Arvid said sharply. “First all this with the dwarf and then this completely tasteless joke!”

“Come on, don’t be so boring. I’m just in a good mood. Maybe you should give that a try yourself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Suddenly Loke raised his head and listened. “Someone’s coming—let’s go.” He took Arvid’s hand, turned toward the exit and turned back into a giant in a flowing movement. A moment later the door was opened and a young servant came in, a bucket in her hand. She started when she saw Arvid and Loke.

“Forgive me, Your Highnesses,” she said with a deep bow, “I… I thought everyone had left. I should wash the floor and…”

“It’s all right,” Arvid interrupted.

“Absolutely,” Loke confirmed cheerfully.

Arvid followed him down the hall, still annoyed. He, however, still seemed to be in exceptionally good spirits. Now that she thought about it more, it was also clear why.

“So you can change again,” she said. “Is the wound already healed?”

“Not quite,” said Loke, “but it’s no real problem anymore. Does it bother you if people think you’re cheating on your husband?” He chuckled and changed again. “It’s been a while since I last had this shape,” he said, now looking the way he usually did in Asgard and Jördendheim. “I better not forget it.”

Now Arvid had to smile in spite of everything. His happiness was contagious. Yes, it had been a long time since she had last seen him like this, as a tall, handsome human man with smooth, dark hair.

The guards threw them suspicious glances as they walked through the gate to the royal quarters. It didn’t escape Arvid that Loke enjoyed their astonishment. When they walked down the hallway and approached their quarters, they saw three servants who were busy brushing a wall fountain and lifted their heads when they heard their footsteps. They seemed confused, too, and that was not surprising. Apart from the servants, humans were a rare sight in Sölunnir, and Arvid doubted that Loke normally showed himself in this shape here.

“I have a wonderful idea,” he said suddenly and grabbed her hand.

“Um, I… what?” said Arvid, looking over at the servants, embarrassed.

Loke pulled her along, past the wall fountain and up the first steps of the stairs to their quarters. Here he stopped, wrapped an arm around Arvid’s waist and pulled her close.

“Let’s play games with the servants,” he whispered, then he leaned forward and kissed her. Although Arvid knew they were being stared at by three bewildered servants, she couldn’t help but return Loke’s kiss. It was the first time his lips weren’t cold as marble and it was an incomparable feeling.

Shortly thereafter, she heard loud, tramping footsteps in the corridor. As they turned around, Arvid saw Byleist and one of the guards from the gate, who came storming through the passageway.

“Loke!” Byleist shouted down the hall and shook his fist in their direction. “I’ll kill you!” In the same breath, however, he began to laugh loudly and uproariously. The three servants looked back and forth between them like startled animals and seemed so helpless and confused, that Arvid could no longer control herself and broke into peals of laughter.

“You wish you could!” Loke shouted back. “Now stop bothering us—we’re busy.”

Byleist roughly punched the guard next to him in the side, waving in the direction of the three servants. “Get back to work,” Arvid heard him say, “that’s just Loke, you fools!”

“So he can see through you,” Arvid said, after they had entered their quarters.

“Byleist? Yes. Helblindi cannot.” Loke smirked. “When I was younger, I constantly spoofed him. It was very amusing, even though he and my mother begged to differ.”

“Then maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t like you,” suspected Arvid. She walked over to the table and sat down, since she was still hungry. All she found were a few yellow eggplants, but it was better than nothing.

“Helblindi’s always been just like my mother,” Loke said, “Byleist more like my father. There are no similarities between me and Helblindi. He is tidy and conscientious. He tries to do the right things, even if that means his life is turned into a boring, dull gray mass. But compared to before, we get along rather well today.”

Arvid carefully pulled the shell off one of the fruits. “When I spoke to him two weeks ago, he didn’t sound very positive. He thinks you’re a murderer.”

“Many do.”

“And are you one?”

“I guess that depends on the definition.” Loke went over to a seating alcove and sat down. “I’m not a blank slate, but you know that. I’ve killed giants, humans… gods. Never without a good reason, though. Everyone knows that. You just have to pick up a book.”

“Gods?” Arvid said incredulously. “You mean during the war?”

“No, later. Open fights are always so… risky. At least, if the opponent is a god. I prefer to work with guile.” He gave Arvid to a meaningful look. “Just like you.”

Arvid almost choked on the bite of fruit in her mouth. Of course she knew what Loke alluded to, but she tried to forget this incident and had managed not to think about it the last few weeks. That Loke now mentioned it again came as a shock.

“You know why I did that,” she said, coughing. With all her might she tried not to think about it, but the image of the two farmers, writhing in pain, mercilessly appeared in her mind. “The two men were rapists, maybe even murderers!”

“I’ve made no accusation,” Loke said. “I may be a murderer, but then you’re a murderer, too. It is the darkness in our souls that gives us power. We are guided by anger and pain, the impulse to clear away or wipe out what opposes our nature. Well, what does that make us?” He casually reached for the fabric lying on a chest in front of the niche, and began to study the pattern on it.

Arvid was silent and lowered her half-eaten fruit. She suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore.

“What does it make us, Loke?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He wetted a green thread and carefully threaded the needle, probably like thousands of times before. “The evil ones,” he said then. “It’s not like there actually is anything like that, but… we are the ones who in the stories are portrayed as evil. Our motives and drives are hidden in the dark; they seem complicated and entangled. No one tries to understand them. Who would bother picking up a pile of shards, only to understand how the vase originally looked and why it broke?” He paused and stared at the fabric in his hands. “It’s so easy to see that someone could cut himself on the shards. But who would ever blame the hammer?”

Arvid watched silently as Loke began to put small stitches in the white fabric. She understood what he wanted to express with this comparison. Maybe he was right. For someone who didn’t know her, she was probably on the side, which in a black and white world often was referred to as the evil side. But she was not evil. All she wanted was to get back home, but Asgard didn’t believe her, but listened to what the oracle said.

Finally, she rose with a soft sigh. There was no point in racking her brain about it, and it was probably better if she looked for something to distract her from these gloomy thoughts. Her home, her world, even her mother seemed infinitely far away, a fading memory, like a photograph on the wall, which she had already passed a thousand times.

She wanted to turn toward the library, but Loke called her back.

“Wait,” he said quickly, and lowered his embroidery.

Arvid turned to him hesitantly. “Yes?”

“Would you sit with me?”