Norse Code

by S. E. Babin

  I could see him now standing with some buxom blonde minor goddess whose short skirts and other physical endowments were her only contribution to the world at large. It would be exactly what he wanted. Someone physically perfect without an active brain cell rattling around in her under pigmented hair.

  Instead he wound up with me, a fiery redhead with a temper the size of the cauldron of life and gasp...opinions on things. I could remember the first time he ever stepped out on me. It was after an...opinion. Two landowners had gotten into a tiff and took their quarrel into the court. Odin wanted to burn both of their lands and leave them destitute to teach them a lesson. I had stepped in, interrupted him, and quietly suggested the two take down the fence between their lands for a little while and allow the cattle to graze on each other's property until all of the grass had grown back. A bar fight started the whole thing. Errant lightning had destroyed one of the landowner's food silos and, in desperation, he'd let his cattle sneak over to the other side for food while he figured out how to replace it. The other landowner wasn't happy with the arrangement I'd set, so I compromised and told him he would be entitled to a quarter's share of the honey mead the other produced.

  In Asgard, mead was always the answer.

  We couldn't be motivated by much, but booze was always a good thing to start with.

  Also, my idiot former husband hadn’t even noticed his precious spear was gone.

  One more bargaining chip I’m sure Tyr would return to discuss soon enough. Odin didn’t care about much but beer, his spear, and pretty, nubile woman. Oh and copious amounts of power no matter how he had to obtain it.

  I’d stopped being nubile the moment I’d walked in on him in the bathtub and saw him gently tuck a head of blonde curls underneath the water. I remember freezing like I’d suddenly been shot by a gun that stopped time. The smile turned into a grimace, but what did I do?

  I ignored it.

  Setting the clean towels I was holding on the shelf beside the door, I gave him a nod and quietly closed the door behind me.

  A nod. Like we were negotiating a business deal and one of us was being honored for a shady tactic!

  I was an idiot.

  But now I was an idiot with leverage.

  4

  It took about two more hours to get everyone through the portal and to seal it up to ensure the magic used couldn’t be traced anywhere. By the time it was finished, there was a slow, deep ache in my bones. Loki stayed close most of the day and he kept stealing glances at me as if he knew there was something he should know but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

  Unfortunately for me, he was not nearly as dumb as Odin. I was going to have to do my best to act completely ignorant of what had passed between us yesterday. It was a good thing I wasn’t interested in dating anyone. Otherwise this would definitely put a kink in my social life.

  On last count, I was sitting at approximately fifteen hundred people who’d come through the portal. That was almost half of the Asgard population. I could see Odin jumping around and pulling at his hair like Rumpelstiltskin in the old tales. That image kept a small smile on my face the entire day.

  I’d asked everyone to meet me in the middle of town at six p.m. It gave everyone enough time to get settled into their new homes and unpack a little if they chose to. With the help of the Valkyries, I’d created a small settlement with numerous houses just a few miles down the road. All of the houses were exactly the same. I knew people and gods alike would fight if someone had something even slightly different than they had. So I ensured not a single thing was different. Not even the placement of their cutlery drawers. The exterior colors of the homes were the same, but could be changed later if they wanted to. A cool gray with white trim and a navy colored door. The interior was also a cool gray throughout. Everyone had the same kind of silverware, pots and pans, shower heads, faucets and door handles. If they were going to complain about anything, it would be the size. Since I’d given them a free home and let them escape Odin’s rule with no consequences, anyone with half a brain should hesitate before they did complain, though. I wouldn’t be so inclined to listen.

  Wiping down the bar with a free hand, I absentmindedly poured Loki a glass of water with the other. He sat at on the other side watching me, his long fingers tapping absentmindedly on the wood surface. “Long day?”

  I sighed. “Long enough. It will get even longer after six.”

  “Why did you want everyone to meet you?”

  “Just to ensure they know they can’t leave until I allow them to.”

  Loki’s eyebrows went way up. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re holding them hostage.”

  A snort escaped me. “Not hostage. But every time we open a portal, I have to ensure it can’t be traced. It’s not something I can do on a daily basis, and I can’t do it alone.”

  “The Valkyries?”

  I nodded. “Yes, At least two have to be present before it can be opened. They don’t have to stay, but their magic is required at first.”

  “So you have to schedule to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mmm. Makes sense. You know some of them won’t like it.”

  I scrubbed at a particularly difficult spot on the bar. “I’m not sure I care about that.”

  “Do you think everyone will stay?”

  “Not even a little,” I said. “Someone will find fault with everything. Even the best of situations.”

  “True.” Loki sat up straighter and studied the markings on his hand. “You know something about this, don’t you?” His green gaze was steady on me but I avoided eye contact.

  “Already told you. I’m sure it was a side effect of the spell.”

  He sipped his water. “I’d like to tell you a little bit about me, Freya.”

  I sighed. “Please don’t.”

  A soft laugh escaped him. “Even tired, you’re fiery. When I came to Odin all those years ago, you were the first thing I noticed. Fierce and intelligent, you had this...way about you.”

  “Loki.” I was too tired for his flattery.

  He held up a finger. “I’m going somewhere with this. I promise.”

  I set the rag down and poured myself two fingers of scotch. I was afraid I was going to need it. Pulling up a stool, I gratefully sat down. “Finish your story, gramps.”

  A dimple poked out of the edge of one of his cheeks making my heart do a little rumba.

  “Odin tried to treat you like dirt and you retaliated in all of these tiny ways no one but you noticed. As if were enough for you to know you wouldn’t take it. You didn’t care if he knew.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. He was right. And how the hell had he noticed? I thought I’d taken great care with my passive aggressiveness. I’d replaced Odin’s orange juice with apple, knowing full well how much he hated them, and claimed that due to a freak drought, all of the oranges in Asgard had been destroyed. I’d oversalted his eggs and when he commented on it, I told him he should go see Eir, our doctor, because it sounded like he might have the dye-a-beeties. His bushy eyebrows had flown up to the top of his face as he demanded to know what that was and how could he be sick? HE WAS ODIN. So then I told him that tasting something and thinking it was too salty was the first symptom.

  He’d demanded Eir fly in immediately and when he explained to her what he was experiencing (because by then of course he was convinced he had fever, body ache, and numb fingers), Eir looked at me, pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud, and told Odin it was a good thing he’d called her because the dye-a-beeties could be deadly for strong and powerful leaders like him.

  Then there was the time I’d stuffed several fake blood capsules in the faucet of our enormous bathtub and when he got in and turned the water on, I’d whispered the words to an illusion spell. As soon as I saw him sink in, the capsules burst open, filling the water with a sticky red substance and a sword appeared in his field of vision. His girly screams made me rush in to “help” him and I scree
ched out that maybe it was the sword of Skofnung and his wounds could not be healed. And then I’d repeatedly said “Oh, Odin, whatever shall I do without my big, strong leader here to help me!”

  This time Eir wasn’t so amused, because it was in the wee hours of the morning that we had to summon her to search through Odin’s hairy body for wounds that never existed.

  “SKOFNUNG!” Odin kept screaming. “SKOFNUNG!? HOW DID SKOFNUNG WIND UP IN MY BATHWATER?”

  I snickered at the memories and Loki laughed along with me. “Skofnung in the bathwater,” he said on a laugh. “He was so befuddled by that one. Thor was even more confused. And I sat there, Freya, and I knew it was you.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

  “Because I know you. I know when you’re keeping a secret. I don’t know what this is,” he said, waving his hand at me. “But I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He slid off the barstool. “Ready, my lady?”

  I tipped back the scotch and stood. “Not really, but it’s time.”

  We pushed through the doors of the bar and headed out to the middle of town.

  There were so many people I couldn’t make out many faces. Young, old, men, women and children stood there, their faces pale and worried, but I also caught expressions filled with hope and wonder.

  I used a touch of magic to amplify my voice so the entire crowd could hear it. I welcomed everyone and told them I was happy they were here. Applause rang out at that.

  When I told them they could leave whenever they wanted, but that it had to be scheduled, the applause fell into stunned silence.

  “Why?” Someone called from the back.

  “Odin will find us if the portal isn’t protected. This takes more than my magic to do.”

  “So how often will a portal open?”

  I shrugged. “It depends on how many people want to leave. For now we will say once a week. Come to me or Brenna and let us know of your desire. On Wednesday, we will send you wherever you wish. There were some grumbles, but they trailed off.

  “Is there a good place to eat around here?” someone shouted.

  “Or a doctor?” someone else shouted.

  “Yes and yes.” I shot a grin to Loki as I pointed out the direction of my bar. “My bar is around the corner. We’ll have small bites tonight, but the chef will be in later.”

  Loki leaned over. “Chef?”

  I nodded. “Sometimes it’s better not to ask questions.”

  Loki slowly leaned away and shook his head. “Thank the gods we can’t get food poisoning,” he muttered.

  “Bite your tongue. I’d never serve anything in my bar that wasn’t delicious.”

  “Unless Odin was there?” he asked.

  “Unless Odin was there,” I clarified.

  “Eir will be here twice a week.” I pointed in the general direction of the clinic. We were all immortal so there shouldn’t be any real need for a physician, but women needed help with childbirth and general wellness was never a bad idea. Plus...some of these people had gotten too used to eating ham and desserts so some weight management around here wouldn’t be remiss.

  I rattled off a few other important things. We had no law enforcement because we could police ourselves and had been doing so since the dawn of time, but sometimes arguments had to be settled. For those we would hold a town summit once a month and while they were waiting, there was to be a truce. A few people mumbled about that, but most thought it was a good idea.

  No one owned any land right now. All of the land was owned by me. Though a couple people brought it up, I told them to save their questions for another time.

  “Eight p.m. at the bar! Finger foods and the first cup of mead is on me!”

  Loki stared at me like I’d spoken blasphemy. “Free mead? Are you out of your mind?” he hissed.

  A resounding roar of pleasure went up from the crowd before they decided to disperse. “We have no real need for money. Or have you forgotten that with all your frolicking amongst the humans?”

  He sniffed and brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his shirt. “I don’t frolick, Freya. I meander. There’s a big difference.”

  “Mmm hmmm.”

  We headed back to the bar in a companionable silence. Loki...he was beginning to grow on me in a more than friend way.

  Damn it all to Hel.

  There were few things that could get an Asgardian’s blood pumping like a good mug of mead and food. Considering I offered up one on the house, there was a line out the door beginning at 7:45. Men, women and children were standing out there in the grass of the front, and I frowned as I thought about children drinking mead. Perhaps I was going to have to institute a no children in the bar rule. In Asgard it was perfectly okay, but I still operated under the assumption that children were innocent and they had no business seeing what happened once a Norseman (or woman’s) inhibitions had been lowered.

  Mainly...another brother or sister.

  Perhaps we needed some kind of childcare set up here. Something to ponder later.

  Loki was sitting on what I was beginning to think was his regular stool. He’d gotten a bit of his rose mead out and was nursing his glass as he stared out the sparkling clean windows of the bar. Most bars in Asgard had only tiny windows. I liked to see outside so I made sure to have massive windows where you could see out to a long distance. Plus it cut down on the amount of electricity I had to use. We could do a lot with magic, but some things we preferred to do old school, especially here on Earth. Right now the Valkyries and I were stealing electricity from Abingdon. We’d need to figure out another way soon enough, but I didn’t want anything draining my magic until Odin had calmed down enough to leave me alone. In a typical Asgardian timeline, that would usually mean about five thousand years had to pass before I could comfortably walk outside without looking over my shoulder.

  Immortals might not be fun but they were always interesting.

  So...we were currently draining the next city over, unfortunately. I figured I had at least a year or two before I had to worry. It was the government after all, and everything I’d learned from watching humans trying to run a government was something like this.

  Low paid employee: Have you seen the meter? It’s exorbitantly high. Where’s all the extra usage coming from?

  Supervisor: Huh. That’s interesting. Good find, low paid employee! I’ll get right on that.

  Narrator: He does not, in fact, get right on that.

  Six months pass. Employee has gone diligently to their supervisor each month and left with false assurances.

  The cost eventually becomes too high to avoid.

  Supervisor holds meeting. Takes credit for low paid employee’s discovery.

  Boardroom full of overpaid men and women hem and haw about it and table the discussion for the next month.

  Rinse and repeat.

  *end scene*

  If I was dealing with someone even less intelligent, I could probably drag this out for three to five years. That would give me enough time to sort some additional things out, get everyone settled and then figure out my next steps.

  Until then, I kept the windows free of curtains and the lights low. Whatever I could do with magic, I did. Whatever would be a constant drain on my power, I figured out...usually this meant I had to steal it.

  I was not above stealing if it meant getting away from the bearded oaf currently living thousands of miles above me.

  I poured myself a quick finger of vodka and shot it down before I stood to open the doors to Freya’s Place.

  5

  Gravelbeard was short, dirty, and foul-mouthed, but he could make a four course meal out of road-kill and a pinch of salt. Whenever Odin would leave, which was often, I’d sneak the dwarf in and beg him to make me something delicious.

  He, in turn, demanded several of our good casks of ale and a “pretty unshaven lass” in return. Considering I was not in the habit of turning over unwilling women to dirty dwarves, I’d bargain him down to
one cask of ale and access to the magical television we had in our guest room so he could watch whatever his little depraved heart would like.

  He never said no to my offer.

  But I never stepped foot in our guest room after he’d vacated it and instead paid a discreet and dour woman named Helga double to clean it.

  I was pretty sure Helga was going to murder me in my sleep one day.

  I was also pretty sure I would deserve it.

  I approached Gravelbeard several months before I left Odin because my sixth sense was telling me that the day would soon be approaching. The dwarf usually wasn’t much of a talker and preferred to communicate in monosyllabic grunts. Unless you annoyed him. Then all bets were off.

  Though his favorite way to chat was via his middle finger. He communicated with that a lot.

  But on that day, perhaps sensing I was in a somber and serious mood, Gravelbeard shoved out a barstool with his toe. It was the most generosity he’d shown me in the entire fifty years he’d been salaciously acting as my semi-personal chef.

  I remember I wore my hair back in order to disguise the deep, true red of it, and a hooded cloak to allow me to travel without notice in the town. But Gravelbeard wasn’t a man who could be fooled. He was quiet and to himself and lived in a little hut inside of the forest, but his favorite place was any bar in Asgard. I found him in the first one I came to. Coincidentally, it was also the one closest to his home.

  “I’d like to ask you something,” I started.

  “Yes,” he said with a grunt. He picked up a massive mug of ale, slurped it down, burped noisily and wiped his glorious beard.

  “Yes...what?” I asked staring at him in confusion.