Sleipnir

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. It wasn't that I was scared—although I was, down to my socks—I just didn't know what to say. Loki found me more impressive than Hitler? I narrowed my eyes, and shut my lips. Tricky wasn't the word. It wasn't even close. Let him talk? Or say my piece and get the hell out of here? Not even the Sly Biter had any useful suggestions.

My inclination was to let him talk. Flattery is generally more productive than petulance.

"It wasn't easy," I answered him truthfully.

"Didn't quite catch that, son. Could you come a little closer? I'm afraid I'm going a little deaf in that ear. Old age is dreadful."

I kneed my horse one step closer—but no more.

He smiled genially up at me. "Now, then, what was your name? I don't believe you said."

"Barnes."

"Barnes," Loki echoed flatly. "That's it? Nothing else? Odd names they're giving humans these days. Well, Barnes, what was so important, you had to ride all the way to Niflhel?"

I forced myself to sit back in the saddle, and relax my death grip on the reins. "I'm looking for Sleipnir. Have you seen him?"

"Sleipnir?" Loki broke into laughter, which startled me considerably. He let his head fall back while he wheezed. Only then did I notice something dark spattered on his chest and belly.

"Have... I seen... " He finally managed to control his hilarity, although tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, and froze on contact with the stone slab. "Oh, yes, I've seen my bastard son, my friend. He left his calling card, as you can see." One hand waggled fractionally in the direction of his bespattered chest. "I never did understand where I went wrong with that youngster. Turned myself into a mare—a female, mind you, which is not as easy as it sounds, let me tell you that—just so the ungrateful little wretch could get himself born, and what did he do to thank me?"

"Ran away from home?" I suggested.

Loki sighed, and nodded. "Got himself into bad company, then didn't have the good sense to bite the hand that fed him. I suppose I was just too preoccupied with other matters to take him properly in hand. Pity; he'd have been such an asset." Loki shook his head mournfully, looking very much the part of a bereaved father. Then he spoiled the effect. "Not that Sleipnir'll be much help when Fenrir gets hold of Odin. I do look forward to that."

The Father of Monsters chuckled, clearly relishing the moment when his other son gobbled Odin alive. Not that I objected to Odin's demise. I just didn't want the aftermath of Loki's revenge destroying my world.

"So, tell me, lad, what is it you want with my eight-legged freak of a son?"

"I plan to—"

"Speak up, son; I can hardly hear you. Damned snakes hissing so loud I can't hear myself piss anymore. Come closer—I don't bite, you know. I can't even move." He shrugged his shoulders in apparent resignation, which I didn't buy for a second. His eyes glittered with malice, and with hope.

I eyed him darkly, and kneed my horse one small step closer.

"I plan to catch Sleipnir."

Loki's eyes went round. "Catch him? Wel-l-l-l now, that's an interesting bit of strategy, isn't it? Where were you pla

Loki was smart, all right.

"The thought had crossed my mind," I allowed cautiously.

Loki gri

I wasn't little, and I wasn't his friend, and I wasn't about to answer him straight out, not until he'd given me something in return.

"We've got a saying on Earth these days," I said with a tight smile, "that seems appropriate."

He lifted one brow. "Oh?"

"You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

His lips went slack with shock. "Audacious little maggot, aren't you?"

I gri

Loki blinked; then narrowed his eyes, and gave me a chilling smile. "You have made quite a little journey, haven't you? Hel and Skuld both, eh?" He dismissed Baldr without comment. "Catch Sleipnir. Well, now." He seemed lost in thought for a moment; then gri

I held his gaze, but refused to be stampeded into offering anything. If Loki wanted to name a price, let him. I could always try for Sleipnir without his help. It was obvious the horse visited here occasionally.

Loki studied my silent form. Then his voice came again, a silky whisper of approval. "Very good. I begin to see why you have made it this far." He cleared his throat, and got down to the serious business of bargaining. "Now, what kind of price would I be wanting, you're asking yourself. There is the obvious, of course."

I waited, affecting the posture of a stone gargoyle.

"I could really use a bath."

"A what?"

I was nearly as startled as I'd been when Baldr first spoke to me from the bank of the Gjoll.

"A bath, man. A bath. You do know what a bath is?" he added dubiously, staring at my filthy, mended clothes. "Do you have the slightest idea how many centuries it's been since I was clean?"

I thought about the effect of freezing water expanding inside the links of that chain, and shook my head.

"I'm afraid not. Even if I could find any, water'd freeze solid before I could get it here." It was a small lie, since I could probably have managed to douse him before it solidified; but it was a good excuse.

"Ah, well, I suppose it might, at that." His eyes glinted. I hadn't fooled him for an instant. "You might give me a shirt to keep off the worst of the chill."

"I might. But I couldn't get it onto you under those tight chains, could I?"

"No, I don't imagine you could. Pesky things, really. I should've broken them long ago; I just didn't bother. I don't suppose you could sort of shift them a little, scratch under them and maybe let me ease a few muscle cramps?"

The chains around his shoulders wouldn't move any farther down across the broad expanse of his chest, and to move them toward his head would've given him room to wriggle loose.

I shook my head. "I'd rather not come any closer to those snakes. This nag of mine is nervous enough—and if I dismount, he'll be gone before I can grab him."

Loki's eyes narrowed savagely. "Well, now, it's an uncooperative sort you are, isn't it?"

Sigyn turned to dump her bowl. Venom splashed onto his nose, burning a bloody path across his cheek. The illusion of youthful beauty vanished abruptly. His scarred face and body were even more repulsive by contrast. Loki shrieked. The ground heaved. How my horse kept his feet was beyond me. At least the last time venom had hit Loki, I'd still been safely hidden. What had Baldr said about wild mood swings?

"Get out! Get out!" echoed somewhere behind my eyelids.

Unfortunately, Loki chose that moment to raise his head. He didn't even bother to project the illusion of health this time.

"All right, mortal"—his voice was again a harsh rasp—"you don't seem to want any of my bargains. Strike one of your own, if you want my help. I do not think you have much hope of succeeding without it."

Hel was every inch her father's daughter—and something told me that Loki was a thousand times more dangerous than Death.

I considered my very few options, and settled on, "Help me trap Sleipnir, and I'll kill your worst enemy."

"Odin?" he gasped. His laughter shrieked nearly as loudly as his screams had. It bounced off the overhang and set the vipers to agitated motion. Venom poured onto him. Loki's screams and struggles threw my horse into blind panic. I had my hands full trying to stay on his back while he slipped and slid on uneven, icy ground.