فصل 34

My Sword Almost Ends Up on eBay

“I’M THINKING NOT,” I REPLIED.

Ran made a rumbling sound like a whale with heartburn. “You—the grandson of that meddler, Njord—come here asking to barter, disturbing the World Serpent, interrupting my scavenging, and you won’t even agree to a reasonable offer? The Sword of Summer is the greatest artifact to come into my nets in ages. Your soul is a small price to pay in exchange!”

“Lady Ran.” Sam took back her ax and slipped down from the fishing chair. “Magnus has already been claimed by Odin. He is einherji. That cannot be changed.”

“Besides,” I said, “you don’t want my soul. It’s really small. I don’t use it much. I doubt it even works anymore.”

The goddess’s watery skirts swirled. Trapped souls clawed for the surface. Plastic garbage bags popped like Bubble Wrap. The smell of dead fish almost made me nostalgic for the bull’s head.

“What do you offer me, then?” Ran demanded. “What could possibly be worth that sword?”

Good question, I thought.

I stared into the goddess’s nets and an idea began to form.

“You said you were scavenging,” I recalled. “What for?”

The goddess’s expression softened. Her eyes shone a greedier shade of green. “Many things. Coins. Souls. Lost valuables of every description. Just before you woke the serpent, I had my eye on a Chevy Malibu radial hubcap that was worth forty dollars easy. Just sitting there at the bottom of the harbor. But now”—she threw up her hands—“gone.”

“You collect stuff.” I corrected myself: “I mean…wonderful treasures.”

Sam squinted at me, clearly wondering if I’d lost my mind, but I was starting to understand what made Ran tick—what she cared about most.

The goddess stretched her fingers toward the horizon. “Have you heard of the Pacific garbage patch?”

“I have, Lady Ran,” Sam said. “It’s a floating collection of rubbish the size of Texas. It sounds terrible.”

“It is amazing,” said the goddess. “The first time I saw it, I was overwhelmed! It put my own collection to shame. For centuries, all shipwrecks of the northern seas have been mine to claim. Anything lost in the depths comes to me. But when I saw the wonders of the garbage patch, I realized how puny my efforts had been. Ever since, I’ve spent all my time scavenging the seafloor, looking for additions to my net. I would not have found your sword if I hadn’t been so quick!”

I nodded with sympathy. Now I could fit this Norse goddess into the Magnus Chase worldview. Ran was a bag lady. I could work with a bag lady.

I peered overboard at the floating junk. A silver teaspoon balanced on an island of Styrofoam. A bicycle wheel spun past, shredding the ghostly head of a lost soul.

“Lady Ran,” I said, “your husband, Aegir, is the lord of the sea, right? You share a golden palace with him at the bottom of the ocean?”

The goddess scowled. “What is your point?”

“Well…what does your husband think of your collection?”

“Aegir.” Ran spat. “The great stirrer of sea storms! These days the only thing he wants to do is brew his mead. He’s always been a brewer, but lately it’s ridiculous. He spends all his time at the hops shop, or going on brewery tours with his buddies. And don’t get me started on the flannel shirt, rolled-up skinny jeans, glasses, and the way he trims his beard. He’s always talking about microbrews. He has a cauldron a mile wide! How can he microbrew?”

“Right,” I said. “That must be annoying. He doesn’t appreciate how important your treasures are.”

“He has his lifestyle,” Ran said. “I have mine!”

Sam looked bewildered, but all of this made total sense to me. I knew a bag lady in Charlestown whose husband had left her a six-million-dollar mansion on Beacon Hill, but sitting at home alone had made her feel suffocated, lonely, and unhappy. So instead she lived out on the streets, pushing her shopping cart, collecting plastic lawn ornaments and aluminum cans. That made her feel complete.

Ran frowned. “What were we talking about again?”

“The Sword of Summer,” I said. “And what I could offer you in return.”

“Yes!”

“What I’m offering,” I said, “is to let you keep your collection.”

Frost spread down the ropes of the net. Ran’s tone turned dangerous. “Are you threatening to take my stuff?”

“Oh, no. I would never do that. I understand how valuable—”

“Because this whirling plastic sunflower ornament right here? They don’t make these anymore! It’s easily worth ten dollars.”

“Right. But if you don’t give me the Sword of Summer, Surt and his fire giants will come looking for it. And they won’t show you such respect.”

Ran scoffed. “The sons of Muspell cannot touch me. My realm is deadly to them.”

“But Surt has many allies,” Sam said, picking up on the idea. “They would annoy you, harass you, take your…treasures. They’ll do anything to retrieve that sword. Once they have it, they’ll start Ragnarok. Then there will be no more scavenging. The oceans will boil. Your collection will be destroyed.”

“No!” shrieked the goddess.

“Yes,” I said. “But if you give us the sword, Surt won’t have any reason to bother you. We’ll keep it safe.”

Ran scowled at her nets, studying the patterns of glittering trash. “And how, son of Frey, will the sword be safer with you than with me? You cannot return it to your father. Frey gave up his rights to use the weapon when he gifted it to Skirnir.”

For the millionth time, I wanted to find my frolicking summer-god dad and smack him. Why had he given away his weapon in the first place? For love? Weren’t gods supposed to be smarter than that? Then again, Ran collected hubcaps, and Aegir was into microbrewing.

“I’ll wield it myself,” I said. “Or I’ll take it back to Valhalla for safekeeping.”

“In other words, you don’t know.” The goddess arched her kelpy eyebrows at Sam. “And you, daughter of Loki, why are you siding with the gods of Asgard? Your father is no friend of theirs—not anymore.”

“I’m not my father,” Sam said. “I’m a—I was a Valkyrie.”

“Ah, yes. The girl who dreamed of flying. But the thanes of Valhalla expelled you. Why do you still try to earn their favor? You don’t need them to fly. You know very well that with your father’s blood—”

“Give us the sword, Lady Ran.” Sam’s voice hardened. “It’s the only way to delay Ragnarok.”

The goddess smiled sourly. “You even sound like Loki. He was such a persuasive speaker—one moment flattering, the next moment threatening. Once, he actually convinced me to lend him my net! That led to all sorts of trouble. Loki figured out the secrets of net weaving. The gods learned how, then the humans. Pretty soon everyone had nets. My trademark item! I won’t be so easily convinced again. I’ll keep the sword and take my chances with Surt.”

I unstrapped myself from the fishing chair. I moved to the tip of the bow and locked eyes with the goddess. I didn’t normally shake down bag ladies, but I had to make Ran take me seriously. I lifted the chain from my belt. The silver links glinted in the fading light.

“This chain is also a sword,” I said. “An authentic blade from Valhalla. How many of those do you have in your net?”

Ran started to reach for the chain, then caught herself. “Yes…I can see the sword through the glamour. But why would I trade—”

“A new sword for an old one,” I offered. “This blade is shinier, only used once in combat. You could get twenty bucks for it, no problem. The Sword of Summer, however, has no resale value.”

“Mmm, true, but—”

“The other option,” I said, “is I take the Sword of Summer. It belongs to me.”

Ran growled. Her fingernails stretched into jagged points like shark’s teeth. “You dare threaten me, mortal?”

“Just telling the truth,” I said, trying to stay calm. “I can sense the sword within your nets.” (Total lie.) “I pulled it from the depths once before. I can do it again. The sword is the sharpest weapon in the Nine Worlds. Do you really want it cutting through your net, spilling all your stuff and freeing all those trapped souls? If they got away, do you think they’d fight for you or against you?”

Her gaze wavered. “You would not dare.”

“Trade me a sword for a sword,” I said. “And throw in one of Idun’s apples for our trouble.”

Ran hissed. “You said nothing about an apple!”

“That’s an easy request,” I said. “I know you’ve got an extra apple of immortality swirling around in there somewhere. Then we’ll go in peace. We’ll stop Ragnarok and let you go back to your scavenging. Otherwise”—I shrugged—“you’ll find out what the son of Frey can do with his father’s sword.”

I was pretty sure the goddess would laugh in my face, capsize the boat, and add our drowned souls to her collection. But I stared her down like I had nothing to lose.

After a count of twenty—long enough for a bead of sweat to trickle down my neck and freeze at my collar—Ran snarled, “Very well.”

She flicked her hand. The Sword of Summer came flying out of the water and landed in my grip. Immediately it began to hum, agitating every molecule in my body.

I tossed my chain overboard. “Now the apple.”

A piece of fruit shot out from the net. It would’ve beaned Sam between the eyes if not for her fast reflexes. The apple didn’t look like much—just a shriveled Golden Delicious—but Sam held it gingerly, as if it were radioactive. She slipped it into her coat pocket.

“Go now, as you promised,” Ran said. “But I tell you this, son of Frey: your high-handed bargaining will cost you dearly. You have made an enemy of Ran. My husband, Aegir, lord of the waves, will also hear about this, if I can ever get him out of the hops shop. For your sake, I hope you’re not planning any more sea voyages. Next time, your kinship with Njord will not save you. Cross my waters again and I will personally drag your soul to the bottom.”

“Well,” I said, “that’s something to look forward to.”

Ran spun. Her form blurred into a misty funnel cloud, her nets wrapping around her like twirled spaghetti. She sank into the depths and was gone.

Sam shuddered. “That was interesting.”

Behind us, a ladder creaked. Harald’s head popped up from below.

“Interesting?” he demanded. “Did you say it was interesting?”

He climbed out, glowering at us, his fists balled, his icy blue beard dripping. “World Serpent fishing—that’s one thing. But antagonizing Ran? I never would have taken you aboard if I had known, no matter what Big Boy said! I have to make a living on the ocean! I should throw you overboard—”

“I’ll double your price,” Sam said. “Ten red gold. Just get us back to dock.”

Harald blinked. “Okay.” He headed for the wheelhouse.

I studied the Sword of Summer. Now that I had it, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. The steel glowed with its own light, silvery runes burning along the flat of the blade. The sword radiated warmth, heating the air around me, melting the frost on the railings, filling me with the same sense of quiet power I felt when I healed someone. It wasn’t so much like holding a weapon…more like holding open a door to a different time, walking with my mom in the Blue Hills, feeling the sunlight on my face.

Sam reached over. Still wearing her oversize leather gloves, she brushed a tear from my cheek.

I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“Sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse.

Sam studied me with concern. “Could you really have summoned the sword from Ran?”

“I don’t know.”

“In that case, you’re insane. But I’m impressed.”

I lowered the blade. It kept humming as if trying to tell me something.

“What did Ran mean?” I asked. “She said you didn’t need to be a Valkyrie to fly. Something about your father’s blood?”

Sam’s expression closed up faster than Ran’s nets. “It’s not important.”

“You sure about that?”

She hung her ax on her belt. She looked everywhere but my eyes. “As sure as you could summon that sword.”

The outboard engines rumbled. The ship began to turn.

“I’ll be at the wheel with Harald,” Sam said, apparently anxious to put some distance between us. “I’ll make sure he takes us to Boston and not Jotunheim.”