Loki's Gambit, page 121
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
Sleipnir appreciates this respect for his intelligence. Also, he is fond of the little two-legged foal on his back. She brings him apples and carrots. And he feels a kinship with her. He heard Amy say Claire’s mother had just died in a fire. It is commonly believed that Sleipnir’s mother had died while foaling him, but that is a lie. Sleipnir’s mother was killed by fire, too. Stomping the ground, he tosses his head. He doesn’t have time to think of this. Have these warriors come to take him back to The Master’s herd? Will the humans be his new herd?
His nose twitches. He’s not sure which herd he wants to belong to. But he doesn’t like that Claire is distressed. Is the tall two-leg-male her older brother, perhaps? He has seen the happiness foals get playing with their siblings in the field. He did not have that comfort when his mother died. But Claire can have it. He eyes the spears, and the two-legged-male, and makes a decision.
He turns to the warriors, standing still as statues, as he slips through time. Amy is pulled along with him, and Claire digs her hand tightly in his mane. She is afraid. But in a moment, she will see she doesn’t have to be. Sleipnir has done this in battle many times before.
Reaching one of the Asgardian warriors, Sleipnir uses his nose to knock the spear from the man’s hands, carefully avoiding the hot, glowing point. As an afterthought, he steps on the point with a hoof. The blade cracks beneath him, and its magic disintegrates. In his mane Claire’s hands relax. A moment later, he feels her chest fall down on his neck, and her arms wrap around his neck. A lesser horse might be disconcerted or unbalanced. But Sleipnir has been around two-legs for … centuries? Millennia? She is showing her affection for him. She knows what he is doing. It pleases him even more than carrots.
He makes his way along the warriors to the end of the line. By the time he gets there, he is very tired. In battle, he would rear up to swiftly knock the weapons away with his hooves, but Claire would slip. Going slowly to keep her from falling off and slipping through time all at once is difficult. As he finishes, he is shivering with effort, his nostrils are blown wide, and he is wet and lathered with sweat. The two-legged Amy guides him to the line of human two-legs until he is right behind the one known as Bohdi.
Sleipnir slips back into normal time. As he does he hears a cacophony of what sounds like crickets coming from the humans’ pockets. Do they keep insects as pets? As the crickets’ song tapers down to a steady chirp, Sleipnir bumps Bohdi’s back with his nose. Bohdi jumps forward, spins around, and throws up his arms and screams. “Horse!”
Sleipnir shakes his mane and whinnies. Bohdi is fun. Like Loki was fun. And his mother? But, no, she wasn’t fun; she was worried. Afraid. Angry. But the magic light around his mother and Loki were the same. Flickering. Changing colors. Like flame. Mimir, the head without two legs, says humans have no magic light. That is not true. They do, but it is very faint unless they eat Idunn’s magic apples. Bohdi’s faint magic-light flickers, too, like flame. It makes Sleipnir happy.
Around him the conversation of humans and Asgardians spins like water in a stream.
“Our weapons!”
“What happened to their spears?”
But one voice stands out over the rest. “Dad! Sleipnir did it! He took away their spears!”
Dad? Sleipnir pricks his ears in Director’s direction.
Director turns, looks up at his daughter, and his eyes go wide. His mouth drops as well. Sleipnir can smell his fear.
Ah. That’s right. Fathers stay with their foals in many two-leg family units, and in unicorn and wild horse herds, too. Sleipnir’s only spent time with his offspring in passing. He always tries to talk to them, but none of them has ever responded. They’ve all been just horses, like their mothers. Still, there is something about the smell of his little foals. Their scent is more appealing to him than the ripe fields of Vanaheim, or rolling hills of Elven clover, or even the dried tea leaves he finds so delicious.
The Master has always been afraid that Sleipnir would be stolen, so while his mares go out to pasture with the little ones, Sleipnir has been kept in the stables or carefully guarded paddocks. Shaking his head, he looks at the humans around him. Apparently, Odin’s fear that he would be “rustled” was not just paranoia.
One of The Master’s men, an Einherjar, steps forward. “You will give us the horse.”
“Oh,” Amy murmurs. “They’re here for you … not Bohdi and me …”
Sleipnir snorts. Well, of course they’re here for him. Being captive to one herd is as good as being captive to another. If he turns himself in, no one will get hurt.
He lifts a hoof, and finds Bohdi gazing at him. Sleipnir shifts on his feet, suddenly feeling an emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He’ll miss Bohdi―particularly picking him up by the back of his belt and swinging him around. None of the grooms in Asgard let him get away with that. He almost reaches forward with his muzzle ... but stops himself. He stamps six hooves at his own stupidity. Prolonging the inevitable only makes pain worse. He takes a step forward.
“No, Sleipnir!” cries Claire. Because she rides him, for now she is his master. On Sleipnir’s head the Gleipnir begins to warm. He draws to a halt. “Dad! Don’t let them!” says the little two-legged foal.
Turning to the line of The Master’s men, Claire’s father says, “No.”
“You would defy the will of Odin?” says the Master’s lead man, drawing forward a pace.
Claire’s father lifts his hands. “I don’t know who I’m defying. I am a magically stunted human. For all I know, you could be some clever trolls in clever illusions coming here to take the All Father’s horse and have him for dinner.”
Sleipnir’s skin trembles. He feels like a hundred flies have just landed on his skin. He turns his head, ears pricked. Claire’s father is lying, he’s certain of it. Beside him Bohdi sniffs slightly.
“We are not trolls,” snarls the Einherjar leader.
Nodding his head, Claire’s father says, “I really want to believe you …”
Sleipnir’s skin itches with even greater intensity. He swats his side with his tail. Bohdi sniffles and sneezes.
“… but I can’t risk it. Have your superior contact my superior, and then I’ll give you the horse.”
Sleipnir’s whole body itches. Shivering, he shakes his mane and swats his side with his tail. Bohdi lets loose another sneeze.
“Enough of this!” says the Einherjar leader. “Give us the horse now!”
Beside Claire’s father, the humans raise metal sticks that smell like sulfur and other things. The metal sticks make clicks. Behind Sleipnir, Valkyries’ cries rise as they approach in the sky. The humans keep the sticks pointed at the Einherjar.
“Our bullets are lined with Promethean wire,” says Claire’s father.
The itch that lie provokes makes Sleipnir shake his mane, swat his sides, and stamp his hooves. He hears Bohdi sneeze a third time.
“… Hear it pierces your armor just fine,” says Claire’s father, his voice deep and low.
The Valkyries start to land, dropping like raindrops by the male warriors.
“We are not afraid of death!” the Einherjar says. “And we outnumber you.”
Beside Sleipnir, Amy draws closer.
“But the horse might get caught in the cross-fire,” says Claire’s father.
Sleipnir raises his head and rolls his eyes between the human and the Asgardians. No itch at those words.
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Sleipnir,” whispers Amy.
From his back, Claire shouts. “No!”
Claire’s father says. “Have your superior talk to my superiors.”
The Einherjar’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. “You’ll pay for this.”
Claire’s father’s shoulders rise and fall, as though he is bothered by a fly. But Sleipnir recognizes it as a human gesture for “maybe so, oh, well.”
Turning back to his men and the Valkyries, the Einherjar barks a few orders. The men and women from Asgard disappear, and beside Sleipnir the crickets in the humans’ pockets begin to sing again.
“They’re just invisible,” one man says.
“Hold your stance until the magic detectors say it’s all clear,” says Claire’s father.
A few minutes later the cheeping of crickets draws almost to a stop. Amy exhales loudly.
Claire’s father says, “Dale, you’ve got experience with horses―get this horse inside and my daughter off him―”
“Four-legged horses,” says the human who must be Dale.
Before Sleipnir can even snort, Claire’s father says, “Put Sleipnir in the lobby. I want him close.”
Someone speaks. “He might―”
But Claire’s father cuts that person off. “Well, then get a shovel! Hernandez, I want a full security detail on Sleipnir. Doctor Lewis and Bohdi, you’re with me.”
“I’m not leaving Sleipnir,” says Claire.
Director’s shoulders sag. He opens his mouth and looks up at her. Sleipnir’s ears perk forward expectantly.
The man exhales. “Claire … alright.” He swallows audibly. “Doctor Lewis! Bohdi! My office.” And then he strides away.
Sleipnir blinks. Well. That was interesting.
Steve walks so fast in front of Amy that she has to jog to keep up. As they approach his office he grumbles. “What was my daughter doing on top of a ten-foot tall horse?”
“Come on,” says Amy. “That is an exaggeration. He’s only about 21 hands―err―seven feet tall at the withers, tops.” Amy would never have been able to hang on during the slip, but thankfully, his mane is as long as a Friesian’s―a breed typically used for dressage.
Steve stops and shoots a glare in Amy’s direction.
“Sleipnir’s perfectly safe,” says Bohdi.
Amy’s eyes widen. All things considered, that’s a very nice, but peculiar, assessment coming from Bohdi. Sleipnir seems to find particular joy in picking Bohdi up by the back of his belt and swinging him around.
“It made Claire happy,” Bohdi continues. Flicking his lighter, his eyes flit to Amy. “I saw you on your way out … she was smiling.”
Amy nods.
Steve’s eyes slide to Bohdi, and his frame relaxes slightly. Without another word, he sets off toward his office again. Skipping to keep up she manages to mouth the words, “Thank you,” to Bohdi. He shrugs and looks away, thumb still working the flint wheel of his lighter.
Things between them have been awkward since they got back. Bohdi apparently had been dating Marion, a pretty agent in the office, and then lied about it when they were in Nornheim. Which was weird. Maybe he just thought he was going to die at the time? Amy’s trying not to dwell on it. Obviously, he’s a little unreliable―except when your life is on the line, when he is very reliable―and why Amy’s willing to forgive that fib.
She frowns as she enters Steve’s office, Bohdi a step behind. Of course, finding out about Marion had hurt. Maybe it still hurts. And they haven’t talked about it, which hurts more. They’ve barely talked at all and …
Steve shuts the door behind her abruptly, and Amy jumps in place. Her boss walks over and closes the blinds. Amy looks around; they’re completely surrounded by Promethean Wire, the magic-blocking mesh that keeps out the prying of Heimdall. Heimdall is Odin’s spy, and his magical ability is to be able to see and hear everything anywhere in the Nine Realms to which he directs his attention.
Leaning on his desk, Steve says, “Odin apparently wants Sleipnir back, quite a bit.” His lip curls and his nostrils flare. “Recent events … have me not wanting Odin to get anything he wants.”
Amy’s mouth falls open. Odin’s attack on Kiev had killed Steve’s ex-wife. He hasn’t said much about it; he just gets quiet whenever the topic comes up. Now, however, he’s radiating rage.
She nervously swipes a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
“What do you have in mind?” says Bohdi.
Steve shakes his head. “I wouldn’t care if the horse broke a leg―”
“No!” shouts Amy.
Bohdi’s lighter flickers.
“He’s not just an animal!” says Amy. And even if he were, that would still be completely wrong.
Steve’s eyes narrow in her direction. “Pardon?”
“I think he may be self-aware.” Amy blurts the words out without thinking; but as soon as she says them, she realizes how much she believes them.
“Also, Claire would kill you,” says Bohdi, his lips quirked in a sharp smile.
Steve looks between the two of them, and then his glare settles on Amy. “What do you mean, self-aware?”
Amy looks at her shoes. “Sometimes magical animals, they are much smarter than you’d think based on the size of their prefrontal cortex.”
“In English, Doctor Lewis,” Steve grinds out.
Amy lifts her eyes. “He doesn’t just understand commands like, stop, go, and trot … he understands non-specific requests, like when I told him to be careful because Claire was on his back.”
Steve waves his hand dismissively. “Isn’t that just a Gleipnir thing? Didn’t you say that magical halter makes him obey?”
Amy blinks. “It could be…” And then her eyes open wide. “No, it can’t. Because he broke the Einherjar spears on his own, I didn’t give him any orders.”
“So maybe he’s like those Lollapalooza trick ponies,” says Steve.
“What?” says Bohdi.
“Do you mean Lipizzaner stallions?” says Amy.
Steve grumbles. “Whatever. The point is, he is a war horse, maybe he’s trained to do that to the enemy.”
“Why would he consider Odin’s men the enemy, though?” Bohdi says. “I mean…even if he is just a horse, wouldn’t they smell like home? And wouldn’t he have been trained to recognize Odin’s men on the battlefield?”
Steve rubs his jaw. “The evidence is slim. I don’t buy it.”
At that moment, Steve’s phone rings. His eyebrows rise. “That’s the director,” he says.
“Of the Midwest region?” asks Bohdi.
Steve shakes his head. “Of the FBI.” Leaning with one hand on his desk he wipes his jaw. And then he picks up the phone and presses it to his ear.
Bohdi’s eyes meet Amy’s. She pushes a wisp of hair behind her ear. He flips his lighter between his fingers; his gaze shifts to Steve.
Turning his back to them, Steve says, “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Well, sir, there is a complication with that―it has come to our attention that Sleipnir possibly should be given the status of non-human personhood, and therefore may be entitled to the rights of asylum, if he so chooses.”
Amy blinks. Wait. Steve just said he doesn’t believe that.
“I’ll let you talk to our veterinarian,” Steve says quickly, pressing a button on the phone base.
“What the hell are you talking about?” says an unfamiliar voice.
Steve puts his phone down and starts frantically writing something on a Post-It.
“Well,” says Amy.
Steve holds up the Post-It note. Amy’s eyes go wide. It reads, BUY TIME!
Nodding quickly, she says, “He’s exhibited signs of higher awareness, and I’d like to set up some tests. It would probably take oh, maybe months …”
Steve nods and Bohdi gives her a thumbs-up.
Ad-libbing, Amy says, “I’d have to consult with the animal researchers who work with chimps and dolphin―”
“The Einherjar will be back in Chicago in precisely one hour. You will give them the horse,” says the voice on the other end of the line.
Amy sucks in a breath. Steve straightens. Bohdi’s lighter flickers.
“That’s an order,” the director says. The line goes dead and the sound of a dial tone fills the room.
Amy stares at the phone. Disconnecting it, Steve stands back and rubs his forehead.
“That was so fast … he wouldn’t even discuss the possibility,” says Amy, a little in shock.
“Odin’s got an inside man,” says Bohdi, staring at the phone.
“What?” says Amy.
Steve nods at Bohdi and then looks back down at the phone. “Odin is already influencing members of the U.S. government,” Steve says. Jaw getting tight, he looks up at Amy. “We can’t keep the horse.”
Bohdi waves a hand and takes a step forward. “But if he’s knocking Einherjar’s spears away, maybe he doesn’t want to go back!”
“Keeping him would be taking on the U.S. government―and I know how that would turn out!” Steve says. “Ol’ Slippy would wind up back with Odin.” Pointing his thumb at his chest, he says, “I’d wind up in jail, and you,” he points a finger at Bohdi, “would be on a plane to Gitmo.”
Amy gulps. “Maybe there is a third way?”
Bohdi and Steve both turn to her.
She shrugs. “Maybe we can give Sleipnir a choice?”
“He can’t stay,” says Steve.
“Not between Odin and us,” says Amy. “Between Odin and freedom.” She gulps again. “Of course we’d have to remove the Gleipnir, since with it on Sleipnir would be under compulsion …”
Steve straightens. Narrowing his eyes he says, “You have 56 minutes.”
Sleipnir holds very still.
Beneath his head, Dale says, “Good boy, hold still, Buddy.”
He says it as though Sleipnir has a choice. If he did otherwise, he’d feel Gleipnir’s bite … and the insidious creep of the magic inside his mind.
Sleipnir feels a tug at the magical halter. “Damn,” says Dale. “I can’t loosen either knot.” Gleipnir is tied in two knots. One is beneath Sleipnir’s ears, the other beneath the front of his muzzle. It’s been a long time since anyone has tried to remove it. Was it Hoenir who’d tried last?
He swishes his tail. Sleipnir hadn’t expected Dale to succeed. Or even try. He is touched by the effort, though.
Dale pats his nose. “Sorry, Big Guy.”
“What’s wrong?” asks Claire, pulling out a carrot, and holding it out to Sleipnir.
Dale shakes his head, a crease showing between his brows. “This halter they put on him is too tight. Look, it’s scarred the skin on his nose and behind his ears,” he says touching the afflicted areas … Not that Sleipnir feels that pain anymore. He only feels Gleipnir’s magical bite and insidious whispers. But after the fire that killed his mother, when Odin first put it on, it used to keep him awake at night.
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