Eric Flint - Pyramid Power

And realized that right now she wasn't going anywhere.

She took a deep breath. It hurt. Then, pinching her lips with determination, she walked back to where Sigurd's scabbard and belt lay. She put on the belt and put the sword back into its scabbard. Then she turned to the nearest woman and pulled the thorn out of her neck. And then she worked her way down the line, doing the same.

Five minutes later and she was surrounded by some three hundred puzzled looking women. "Where is the Hero?" demanded several.

"Why have we been woken?" demanded several more, looking around in the milling mob. It looked like a Macy's mailshirt sale, and sounded worse. Like an opera chorus.

"Who woke us from our enchanted sleep?" demanded yet more. They didn't sound too pleased about it either.

A lot of fingers were pointing at her. This could just get ugly, and she had nowhere to run.

"Where is the hero? Where is Sigurd? Where is Beowulf? Where is Gunnar…" they chorused around her, packing ever closer.

She pulled the sword out. And suddenly they backed off, silent. Then one said, "That is the sword Gram."

Then a silence. "Are you Sigurd in a woman's body?" asked one, incredulously. The rest giggled.

"Shut up!" Marie was suddenly tired, and very cross. She pointed to one statuesque blonde. "I don't know what I'm doing here. So, maybe if you tell me what you are doing here, I'll have a better idea."

The blonde looked puzzled, a thing that was probably not hard for her. "I am the Valkyrie Sigfrida. I angered Odin and was cast out of Asgard, trapped by the thorn of sleep, doomed to lie in the hall on the hilltop behind the wall of flame until a great hero and warrior was courageous enough to leap the fire-wall and free me, and take me to be his bride." She looked inquisitorially at Marie. "So where is he, if you have his sword?"

Marie felt vaguely guilty. "Look honey, you're better off without him. It wasn't you he came to fetch anyway. And he's gone."

"But what do we do now?" wailed the blonde. "I will not go back to Valholl."

"No," agreed another.

"Not a chance," said a third.

"Enough is enough…"

Marie held the sword up. "All right!" she yelled. "Enough, already. I heard you. Though why you want a pumpkin-head like Sigurd is beyond me. He's got no brains. And he needs a bath…"

"At least there is only one of him," said Sigfrida.

"Yes, even Freyja's girls get nights off."

Bit by bit, the details of a Valkyrie's life in Valholl became clear. No wonder a life with a single hero, and handmaidens, seemed a good deal.

"I thought the South Side Cafe was bad," said Marie ruefully. At least there you could elbow off any over-familiar customers and you got tips for waitressing. "It's time someone told you girls about emancipation. Because you sure are in slavery."

"Oh, no. Slaves have it worse."

"Things have to change," said Marie.

Morgue duty-and picking out the ones that Odin wanted dead, waitressing and being a joy-girl to corpses. No wonder the place was so full.

Eric Flint Dave Freer

Pyramid Power

Jerry put his head in his hands. "I wish I knew just what we should do next."

Liz had just come in from the pontoon bridge. She sat down next to him, in front of a desk littered with bits of parchment. "You'll figure it out, Jerry. You always do."

"I just seem a bit short of inspiration this time. I need some kind of feint. Some kind of distraction."

"And unfortunately," said Liz, "I don't think you mean me."

"I have had enough of you distracting them," said Jerry.

"Well, I got a nice horn out of it last time…" She stopped. "What about that horn?"

"What horn?"

"Heimdall's. I stole it. We brought it with us out of Asgard. It's in that big pot full of black stuff. I know Thrud tied a cover over it. Let me go and ask her what she's done with it."

"Heimdall's horn might do the trick," said Jerry, brightening. "It was supposed to be loud enough to be heard everywhere."

"You might need as much wind as he has to blow it, though," said Liz dryly. "I'll go and find Thrud."

"I'll come with you. I could use a little exercise."

So they walked off in search of Thrud. They found her and Thor together trying to teach Emmitt how to wield a sword. When Liz explained, Thrud nodded guiltily. "I had Ran put it in her treasure-room. It's mead. I… didn't want to leave it too close to Papa-Thor."

"I'm stronger now," said Thor stoutly. "I can resist, even if alcohol still has mastery over me. Let us go and find the horn."

They found the kettle, still sealed with a rope and oilcloth. Thrud cut the cord and revealed the black liquor underneath. "Very dark mead," said Thor. "I've only seen one other this dark and it was made with the wise Kvasir's blood mixed with the honey."

"Ugh," said Liz.

"It's magical mead," explained Thor.

"It'd have to be, and with an added antiemetic." Liz rolled up her sleeve and stuck her hand into the liquid. She pulled up Heimdall's enormous horn, and held it above the kettle to drip. "I should have brought a towel. We'd better take it and wash it."

Thor produced a piece of linen. "Here. I was just polishing Mjollnir when you came along."

"Thanks," said Liz, gratefully taking it and putting the horn onto it. She sniffed her fingers and then tasted one. Licked her lips. "You know, of all the mead, this is the best, indeed. Hey. I'm a poet and I didn't know it."

Thor put his hand over his eyes. At first Liz thought it was a reaction to her feeble poetry. She was about to persecute him with some more, when he turned to Thrud. "Just where did you find this mead?" he demanded.

"In the same storeroom we found Loki," said Thrud. "It was not one I'd seen before. Very cobwebbed."

"Call Loki," said Thor in a strangled voice. "Let us find out how he came to be in that place. Quickly, girl!"

Thrud ran off, and returned with an out of breath Loki. "Fire? Disaster?" he said, as he tried to catch his breath.

"How did you get into that storeroom that you and Sigyn hid in?" said Thor.

Loki chuckled. "Odin's cleverness backfired on him. Back when we were still on reasonable terms he asked me devise a hiding-spell for him. I did. I'm better at that sort of trickery than he could ever be. But I recognize my own work. When we came down from the gallery, looking for a place to hide, I saw it at once. It was easy enough to break the spell on my own work. I was just reconstructing it when these two bundled in."

"Loki," said Thor slowly. "I know that you sometimes think that I am a bit slow. Sometimes I think it myself. But this time it was you who was a fool. Why would Odin use one of your cunning spells to hide a storeroom?"

Loki narrowed his eyes. Clicked his tongue. "It was a treasure-room, wasn't it? What a fine opportunity I missed to loot it. Ah, well. Too late now."

"I doubt if you would have got a chance to steal a more valuable treasure than the one you took by accident to hide Heimdall's horn in," said Thor dryly. He pointed at the kettle of black liquid. "That is Kvasir's mead of inspiration."

Loki's mouth opened wide… and he sat down with a thump on the floor. He started to laugh, and laugh, until the tears ran down his face. And Liz looked like she was going to throw up.

"Oh, Helblindi! If I tried for a century I could not have tweaked your beard so well," said Loki, wiping his eyes. "I wonder how I get to best taunt him with this?"

Liz took a deep breath. "Not taunt. Use it, Loki. You and him." She pointed to Jerry. "We need inspiration, genius and fine persuasive words, and yes, poetry too. We need them now. We go to war. Never was our need so great, never was the hour so late."

They all looked at her. "Kvasir talking," said Loki in a choked voice.