Digital divinity, p.13
Digital Divinity, page 13
The crone nodded. “Yes. I have many uses for them. Dried and powdered, for salves and ointments and potions. Ground, for compresses. Whole, for blood rituals. What is your need?”
Barbara shifted in her seat. “Well…I need it for a ritual.”
Gullveig surveyed her with wide, keen eyes. “The ritual of self-actualization,” she guessed. “To become a man.”
“That’s right.”
The crone smiled, a broad, snaggle-toothed smile. “Delightful boy. Why come to me for a heart? Why not kill something and take it for yourself?”
“I don’t…want to kill anything.”
“You’re opposed to killing?”
“No. That is, yes. I mean, a little.”
“All of the hearts that I have here come from creatures who have been killed.”
“I know. But they’re already dead.”
Gullveig went on smiling. “Indeed they are. Well then, come, child, and look at my stock. Choose what you shall have.”
She led the pair to the shelves Barbara had seen before, and their grim bounty. They were packed with clear glass jars and vials, some of which boasted potions of varying colors, but most of which held entrails or limbs or organs of various creatures.
Barbara saw eyeballs that looked suspiciously human, and stomachs and livers that certainly came from some manner of humanoid. She saw elf ears in a jar, and hands in another.
There were plenty of things that hadn’t come from humanoids, too. They passed hooves, and miniature organs and tiny, pale skeletons floating in clear solutions.
Finally, though, they stopped at jars of hearts. Jars and jars of hearts, all suspended in liquid.
Gullveig tapped a few containing suspiciously human-like organs, saying, “These won’t work. Not for the ritual of self-actualization. But any of the rest will be acceptable.”
Barbara was almost afraid to ask, but she needed to know. “What are they?”
The crone scrutinized little scratch marks etched onto labels. “This is an orc’s heart,” she said, tapping a jar with a slightly larger than human organ. “And this one…” She paused by a rigid, gray heart. “Ah yes. A gargoyle’s heart. Strange beasts, gargoyles. And these ones are giants’ hearts. Obviously.”
Barbara shivered, staring at the massive hearts in great jars. “Do you have any…any animal hearts?”
“Certainly. Here…” she pointed to a selection of jars, “are the cow and oxen hearts. These are from horses and pigs. Here are the sheep and goats. Here, the deer and elk. And here…”
She paused beside the giants’ hearts, pointing to a jar that held one very nearly as large. “A dragon’s heart.”
Barbara nodded. “A dragon’s heart would be perfect.”
“Yes. I dare say the gods would be very impressed. As long as they don’t look too closely at how you acquired it.”
“Let’s hope not,” Barbara agreed.
The crone nodded and lifted the jar in her twisted hands. “That will be ten thousand gold coins.”
Barbara laughed, assuming this was some kind of joke. Then, when Gullveig’s expression remained unchanged, she asked, “Wait, really?”
“It is a dragon’s heart, boy. Do you know how many men died to bring this back to me?”
Barbara didn’t, and she didn’t want to think of that. “I…well, I don’t have ten thousand gold.”
The shaman nodded. “I understand. I am open to haggling.”
Barbara checked her gold and shrugged nervously. “Would you…uh…take a hundred gold?”
Gullveig frowned. “You insult me, boy.”
“No,” Barbara insisted. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. It’s just – well, that’s all I have. A hundred gold, and forty-eight silver.”
It was Gullveig’s turn to laugh. “You are a fool, child. I should not part with a single heart for that. Not even a rat’s heart. It is more valuable to me for my hexes than such a puny sum.”
“Surely,” Carwyn said, breaking his silence, “we can work something out. My friend really needs a heart.”
Gullveig turned to him, and drew her eyes over his form slowly, in a way that made Barbara shiver. Finally, she said, “I will let you have a leopard’s heart.”
“You will? Oh, thank you.”
“For all of your gold and silver.”
Barbara nodded. She didn’t want to be flat broke, but apparently money wasn’t worth as much as she thought. And a leopard’s heart might not make as much of a statement as a dragon’s, but it would be nothing to scoff at, surely. “Okay.”
“And the elf.”
“Wait, what?” she said.
At the same time, he asked, “What?”
“You heard me. Give me the elf and your gold, and I shall let you have the heart.”
“Give you him? Why?”
“Oh, you don’t want to trouble yourself with those details, my boy. Suffice it to say, he will be very useful to me. His blood, his bone, his ears, his organs…all of it, so very useful.”
Carwyn scowled at her, and Barbara recoiled. “No. Absolutely not.”
The witch sighed. “Very well. You drive a hard bargain. But throw in the elf, and I’ll let you have the dragon’s heart.”
“No,” Barbara said again.
“I can’t do better than that, lad. Already, I’m cutting my profit margin to almost nothing. Plus, I’ve got to do all the work of deboning him and processing him myself.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Barbara was shaking by the time they returned to the cold night air. She remembered Albert Vance’s assurances that the game would be nothing at all like the awful games Braxton Ebynyzyr used to play. He’d lied about it being pleasant. But he’d been right about one thing.
It wasn’t like her grandson’s games. It was worse. Much, much worse.
“What an awful woman,” she said.
Carwyn stared grimly into the night. “Did you see the jar with elf ears in it?”
She laid a hand on his shoulder. “I did. I’m so sorry, Carwyn. It was bad enough for me, but I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you.”
He regarded her with an expression she couldn’t quite make out in the faint moonlight. Then he said, “Yes, well…I suppose I should thank you for not taking her deal in there.”
“Thank me? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I wouldn’t take it. That goes without saying.” She shivered and hunched her shoulders toward the shack. “Well, I suppose we should head back to town. Back to the old drawing board, eh?”
“I have no idea what that means,” he said. “But if it means we’re done for, I guess so.”
She assured him as they walked that it wasn’t as bad as all that. “We’ll think of something. I know we will.”
He grunted and said nothing. Then, very suddenly, he drew to a halt. But by now, the mead had somewhat faded from her system; so instead of colliding with him, she caught herself in time.
“What?” she asked.
“I have an idea,” he said.
“What?”
He paused for a moment. “I think I should have a talk with her.”
“You?” Barbara physically recoiled at the idea. “You’re the one she wants to carve up, remember?”
“Yes,” he acknowledged. “But I’m more persuasive than you. Remember, even Mike said so.”
“Yes, but I don’t think he meant in a case like this.”
Carwyn turned. “Barbara, I need you to trust me on this.”
“I don’t know…”
“I don’t tell you how to bash heads, do I?”
“Well, no.”
“Then you don’t tell me how to negotiate.”
“I don’t know,” she said again.
“Trust me.”
“I don’t know about that, either.”
Carwyn flashed a toothy grin. “Okay, you got me there. But this once, trust me anyway.”
She sighed. “Fine. But if you get us killed…”
He shook his head. “No us. I want to go alone.”
“Wait, what? No.”
“Barbara,” he said more authoritatively this time, “this is my forte. It’s the whole reason I’m here. I need you to give me the latitude to do my job. Okay?”
This rather put her in her place, and she blinked. “Well…I mean…what if something happens to you? How will I know if you’re in trouble?”
“I’ll call out,” he said. “I’ll scream as loud as I can.”
She considered that and then nodded. “Okay. I guess that will work. But honestly, I don’t see how you’re going to make any headway with her.”
“Well, if I don’t, I don’t. Now you just wait right here, okay?”
“Okay.” Then she frowned. “You don’t want me to wait closer to the building, just in case I have to come running?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t want her to think we’re trying to intimidate her or anything. You stay exactly where you are. Don’t move at all. I’ll be right back.”
Barbara might have gone on arguing, except that he scurried off at that. So she sighed and stood in place, exactly as he’d left her. It would all come to nothing. She was sure of that. The old witch had been nothing if not monstrous. And she’d been quite clear about her prices.
But Carwyn hadn’t been wrong when he mentioned this was his job. It was why Mike had sent him along. And she supposed she had to give him the chance to feel useful, even if it meant embarking on fool’s errands now and then.
So she sighed, and shuffled from foot to foot, and studied the sky overhead. A minute, and then two, and five passed. She heard nothing but the wind and ambient music, low and spooky and faraway.
She was about to go back on her word, and go in search of Carwyn, when his voice reached her from out of the darkness.
“Good news,” he said.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. “Good heavens,” she gasped. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry,” he said.
She peered into the darkness, trying to spot him. “Where are you?”
He stood up a yard ahead of her, seeming to materialize from nothing at all. She gaped. “How…how did you do that?”
“Oh, that?” He laughed lightly. “I might have been crouching.”
“Why?”
He ignored the question and held up a huge jar. In the darkness, she could see a black form sloshing around inside. A heart. “I got it,” he said. “The dragon’s heart.”
She gaped. “You got it. But – how?”
“Oh, it was easy. We just had a chat. I told her how important this was to you, and she reconsidered her stance.”
Barbara struggled to comprehend. “But…she told me she wouldn’t part with it for less than ten thousand gold.”
“Yes. But once she realized the importance of this ritual…she decided to let you have it.”
“For free?”
“What? Oh, no. For, uh, fifty gold.”
“Fifty? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
She was astonished, almost to the point of disbelief. But there was the heart, real as anything. “Wow.”
“Right? I told you it would work.”
“That was very impressive,” she said.
He shrugged in a self-deprecating way. “Well, that’s not for me to say, of course. But yes.”
“I suppose I’d better go pay her.”
“What? Oh, no. I already did that.”
“You? I thought you had no money.”
He paused for half a beat. “Right, well, the strangest thing happened. I found exactly fifty gold coins in my pocket.”
She frowned at that. It sounded a little too good to be true. “Carwyn, you’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you? You’ve had money all along.”
“Barbara, is that any way to talk to the person who just saved your quest?”
She went on frowning, but she said no more.
“So, you can repay me,” he said. “Now take your heart. And come on, it’s freezing. Let’s get a move on it.”
By time they reached town, most of the lights had been turned out. Still, they stopped by the temple just in case. It was locked, though.
So they set their steps for the inn. A bored matron glanced up from her book as they entered and looked them over. “I don’t rent to elves,” she said. “I’ll give you a room, boy, but not the elf.”
Barbara was about to argue with her, when Carwyn shook his head. “It’s fine.”
The matron snorted. “I’m glad you think so, your lordship. Now, it’ll be ten coppers, payment up front.”
Barbara paid up and took her key.
“Room’s in the loft. Second door down the hall,” the innkeeper said. “As for you, elf, you can buy something to drink or you can get out. Preferably, get out.” Then, she turned away from the pair of them with a dismissive gesture and picked up her book again.
Barbara lowered her voice. “I don’t understand. We could have tried somewhere else.”
He grinned at her. “Where’s the fun in that, eh?” Then, more loudly, he said, “Fine. I’ll go spend my money somewhere where they want it.”
The innkeeper snorted but didn’t look up.
Carwyn winked at Barbara and stomped to the door. He opened it, and then closed it with a loud, slamming noise. At the same time, he ducked down and into shadow.
And completely disappeared from sight.
Barbara stared in wonder. He hadn’t gone out. She’d seen that, clear as anything. But he’d seemed to have vanished altogether.
“And good riddance,” the innkeeper said.
Barbara glanced over at her. She was staring at the door. “What?”
“Good riddance to that elf. His kind aren’t welcome here, and the sooner they all realize it, well, the better.” Then the older woman went back to her book.
Barbara stood stock still, trying to figure out where Carwyn had gone – and how. It was like some kind of magic trick. He’d been there one minute, and he disappeared the next, like the lady stepping into the trick cabinet in a magic show.
Then, something touched her elbow, and she gasped.
“Shh,” Carwyn’s voice whispered.
She physically clamped a great hand over her mouth to strangle back the scream. Collecting herself, she whispered, “Where are you? How are you doing that?”
“Go to the room,” he said. “I’ll explain there.”
She nodded, unsure if he could see the gesture or not, and moved up the stairs. They were roughhewn steps, made of long logs split down the center, so they varied in size and depth. But they had a general uniformity to them, and a definite rustic appeal. Which she might have appreciated more if not for her addled nerves.
She reached the top of the steps and turned around. She saw no one below her. “You there?” she whispered.
“Here,” Carwyn said behind her.
She spun around the same as before, but this time found the elf standing there, smirking.
“How the hell are you doing that?” she demanded, not even repenting her language.
“I told you, I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me now.”
“You remember when Mike had you creeping around by the barrels in his courtyard?”
It took her a moment to bring her mind out of the current situation. But she did, and she recalled the training exercises. “Yes, of course.”
“I’m doing what you were doing. Just better. A lot better.”
“You mean…that’s not magic?”
“Alvenek, no. I’m just a very good sneak.”
She snorted, about to say she knew that already.
He cut her off. “Joke if you will, but I think we can both agree it’s a useful skill.”
“I suppose it is,” she acknowledged. “Although one of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Come on,” he said, tossing a key up and catching it a moment later. A key that looked an awful lot like the one she’d slipped into her own pocket. “Let’s head to the room.”
Barbara frowned, patting down her pocket. It was empty. “Wait a minute, did you steal my key?”
Carwyn laughed a low laugh. “Steal? Of course not. I borrowed it.”
She snorted and hurried to catch up to him. He’d reached the door by now and was turning the key in the lock.
“You really are a sneak,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said, pushing the door.
Her response froze on her lips as the door opened. A dark-haired man wearing a silver crown and an ankle-length fur-lined tunic sat in the room.
“Oh,” Carwyn said, “I’m sorry. We must have the wrong room.”
“Not at all,” the man said, getting to his feet. “This is your room.”
Barbara blinked. “If it’s our room…what are you doing in it?”
The man smiled. He was a handsome man, but there was something impish in the smile and the eyes. Not quite malevolent, but not far from it, either. “Waiting for you, of course.”
“For me?” the pair said in unison. There were two decidedly different tones to the voices, though. Barbara sounded surprised.
Carwyn sounded panicked. “How did you find me?” he asked. “Who are you working for? The Union?”
“Relax, little elf,” the man said. “I’m here for your friend. Your day of reckoning is yet to come.”
Carwyn glanced upward, surprise and relief in his expression. “Barbara?” Then he laughed. “Really? I knew that goody-two-shoes act was too good to be true.”
“Why are you looking for me?” Barbara asked. She was pretty certain this man, whoever he was, wasn’t a bounty hunter, whatever Carwyn feared. But what he was, she couldn’t guess.
“Because you interest me, of course.”
She frowned. “Who are you?”
His smile broadened. “You don’t know? Really? Well, that’s a first. I am Loki Laufeyjarson, of course.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Alvenek almighty,” Carwyn said.
“Gods no. Not that pretender,” Loki said.
Barbara repeated, “Loki? Like the superhero?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Hero? I hope not.”
