Book of the Gods 5 - Gods of Fire and Thunder by Saberhagen Fred

Author:Saberhagen, Fred [Saberhagen, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-31T17:29:01+00:00

12

On the night after Baedeker's death, the evening feast was delayed, and when the

food and drink at last were served, both Wodan and Sergeant Nosam were absent.

Corporal Blackie had been left in charge. He and Bran were sitting two tables

away from Hal and Baldur, facing in Hal's direction.

Hal thought the food was a little worse than average tonight, though plentiful

enough. But the mead was of reasonable quality, and fairly plentiful. The music

seemed even feebler than usual, though Bran several times ordered the musicians

to play louder and faster.

When the faint hum of talk in the big room suddenly ceased, Hal looked up to see

that the pair of gnomes were standing, unbidden and unexpected, in the entrance

to the great hall. It was the first time he had ever seen them here.

Blackie growled at them. "Well? What is it?"

Moving a step forward, Andvari asked pardon for intruding, then said they had

come not so much to complain as to beg for food, because no one was feeding them

lately, and they were still forbidden to leave Valhalla. He doubted that Wodan

really wanted to starve them to death. They were almost ready to run out, to

just leave anyway.

Hal stood up and scraped food from serving dishes on his own table onto two

clean, incongruously elegant plates. Then he carried the plates over to the

gnomes, who thanked him profusely, sat down at once, and began to eat.

Baldur tonight had consumed more than his usual share of the drink of true

Heroes. When Hal came back to his own table, Baldur waved an arm to indicate the

scene before them. "I am now certain of it, Hal. This—all this nonsense we have

here—it cannot be the real thing—all this—it must be a test, I tell you, Hal."

"You've said it, youngster." Looking over from two tables away, Bran vehemently

agreed. "I don't believe a man can really die here, the straw death, in his bed.

Some kind of lousy magic trick was worked on us. And I don't think Wodan's

really sick." His voice was challenging, belligerent, and none of the

eyewitnesses to death corrected him. No one was going to try to force Bran to

face anything.

"We are being tested," Baldur repeated.

It seemed that Bran, too, had been having more than usual to drink. He slammed a

big fist on the worn table. "That's it, you're right, I've said it all along, we

are being tested. Those who prove loyal will win to the true reward at last.

True Heroes should be fighting every day and every night. Not this . . ." His

face and his gesture spoke eloquently of his disgust.

Corporal Blackie, seated at yet another table, had a contribution to make. "If

we're being tested, though, how long is the trial to go on? I've been here a

year, and all who were here when I arrived are dead now. All of those who tried

to escape are dead, and so are many who did not. What kind of a test is that?"

Blackie looked round, as if seeking an answer to his question, and his gaze fell

on the unusual visitors. "What's this? Who invited in these bloody dwarfs? Why

are they eating our food?"

Hal looked over at him.

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