0765332108 (F) by Susan Krinard

Author:Susan Krinard [Krinard, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

20

When Mist woke again, it was gone. The grief, the guilt, the horror over what she had done. Her body surged with new energy, driving her out of bed, compelling her to ignore the healer on duty, who drew back in shock when Mist all but pushed him aside.

She showered, put on clean clothes, and called to convene a council meeting within the hour. When she walked out of the loft at noon, her mind was already racing with ideas.

Her “advisors” were waiting for her in the smaller meeting room across the street from her loft. Roadkill and Vixen were nursing beers, while the Alfar, excluding the absent Konur, sat quietly in meditative poses. They all rose when she walked in.

“Brooding, my friends?” she asked, laughing at their expressions.

Rick stared at her. “What the hell has been happening?” he asked. “You’ve been sick ever since you got back from trying to find Sleipnir. We heard you were in some kind of coma.”

“I’m fine now,” Mist said. “Unfortunately, we were unable to locate Sleipnir, and Freya has left us to carry out work only she can do.”

Glances were exchanged around the table—some troubled, some relieved, others unreadable.

“Where did Freya go?” Rota asked, her round face drawn with worry.

“Were you offended that we didn’t include you in our discussion, Sister?” Mist asked lightly.

“We thought you were dying,” Hild said.

Mist found herself becoming annoyed. “Do I look as if I am dying?” She lifted her hands and felt the World Tree reaching down with branches of energy, winding about her arms and sending fresh power into her body. “We have made new plans, and now we can proceed.”

“You’ve already proceeded without us,” Rick said. “What’s the point of being in your council if you don’t bother to—”

Mist moved the floor under the mortal’s chair, and he jumped out of it just before it toppled. Everyone stared, and then slowly returned their attention to Mist.

“I make the decisions,” Mist said, staring at each of the Valkyrie, mortals, and Alfar in turn. “Sit down, Rick.”

Eyes wide with confusion, Rick righted the chair and resumed his seat.

“I shall tell you where Freya has gone,” Mist said, moving to the head of the table. “She has discovered the means to stabilize the bridges to Ginnungagap so that their function is no longer so erratic. She has returned to the Shadow-Realms to make another attempt to bring the Aesir to Midgard.”

This time, there was a little hope on some of the faces turned toward Mist. A pinprick of guilt prodded her heart and was quickly gone.

“Where’s Bryn?” Hild asked.

Mist had forgotten about Bryn entirely, and the question only increased her irritation. “Bryn is also on assignment,” she said, “which will remain confidential. In her absence, you, Rick, and Captain Taylor will divide responsibility for the mortals under her command. Unless, of course, you choose to sit in a corner and sulk like a child denied his piece of the birthday cake.”

Shaking his head with a quick jerk, Rick clamped his jaws together.

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