Since long before dawn Odin had stood on the high tower of Heithskjolf, watching the work progress. He had stood without moving as Elfcandle the sun kindled in the east and the giants labored stubbornly on, but the hand holding his spear trembled with the excess of his relief. Now as they threw down their tools, he needed no messenger to tell him the wall was finished, but descended the stairs and went toward the gate.

  The news had spread swiftly through Asgard, and many of the Aesir were abroad in the pale morning light. He nodded to Thor, who strode out to meet him, yawning mightily with his bushy hair standing on end, clutching Mjollnir in a grim grip; and to Freyr, who came with his sister Freya clinging to his arm. Sunlight struck gold from her glittering ringlets, twined with wild roses, but her face was drawn with the anxiety of a sleepless night.

  “It is all over Asgard,” said Freyr, tight-lipped, “that you have promised Freya as reward to the builders of the wall.”

  Odin looked thoughtfully at the slim and mincing young lord. Freyr was vain and self-centered, concerned only when necessary with the sunshine and rain and fruits of the earth that were in his keeping; but in his indolent way he was attached to his sister. His cheeks were flushed with anger and he kept one arm tightly around Freya’s shoulders. Odin drew himself up with a frown. “Do you take me for a fool, Freyr? Your sister need not fear. We would not give our dear one into the hands of the enemy.”

  Freya gave a sob of relief and buried her face in her hands, but her brother only gave Odin a cold and angry stare, as if he were not convinced. Frigga came to walk at Odin’s side, and in silence the five of them passed out through the gateway.

  The two brothers stood side by side to watch their approach. Odin had to admit that Frigga was right; they looked to have more than a trace of giant blood. Bare-limbed, hard muscled, with heavy bristling jaws and small sullen eyes, they towered over the Aesir, a head and a half taller than even the mighty Thor. With their beetling craggy brows and coarse hair, they looked as if two mountain crags had suddenly roused from sleep and begun to walk and talk like men. There was little to choose between them, except that Fasolt, the elder, gazed at Freya with melting sentiment, while Fafnir glared at Odin with cold suspicion.

  “We would like our payment,” said Fafnir in a voice like grating rock.

  “Indeed,” said Odin. He looked beyond the giant at the wall. The rays of the sun smote full upon it, striking glints of silver from the white stone of towers and battlement. Even in the moment of confrontation, Odin exulted at the sight. “It is an excellent piece of work.”

  “It is,” growled Fafnir, untouched by the compliment. “Well worth the price we named.”

  “As to that,” Odin said with regret, “there is but one flaw. You see it is an hour after sunrise, and you have just now finished the wall. According to the terms of our agreement, that nullifies the contract.”

  “Liar!” roared Fafnir, lifting fists like sledgehammers. “Liar and cheat!”

  “Wait,” said Fasolt, laying a hand on his brother’s arm. He said to the Aesir in a pleading voice, “It is really only a small price that we ask. We only want the woman. The rest that we talked of in the beginning, the gold and chests of jewels, we can let those go. We will be satisfied with Freya.”

  “Freya will stay here,” said Odin.

  “We will treat her kindly,” went on Fasolt, with an eager glance at her where she shrank behind her brother. “She will sit and spin by our hearth in the cold wastes where we live, and turn our meager hut into a blooming garden with her presence. We will bring her goat’s milk and cherries and plover’s eggs, whatever she likes best to eat. She will be happy with us.”

  “No,” whispered Freya, growing pale. Freyr hushed her, his eyes on Odin.

  Odin spared them only a glance; he turned back to the giants in time to catch Fafnir’s lips twisted in a cunning smile. He knew with a sinking of his heart that Fafnir at least realized what the loss of Freya would mean to the Aesir— the swift onslaught of old age, the loss of strength. He summoned his calm and replied, “I am sorry. But you can see that she does not wish to go with you.”

  “She will grow used to us,” mumbled Fasolt, twisting his hands.

  “You were not so concerned with her wishes when you first made the bargain with us,” Fafnir sneered. “What of your agreement? Is that to count for nothing?”

  Odin permitted himself to frown. “The bargain — if there was one — became void when you did not finish the work on time.”

  “And whose fault was that?” raged Fafnir. “Who lured our horse away by stealth and trickery, so that we had to haul the last blocks ourselves? It was a trick of the Aesir!”

  “Was it?” asked Odin with contempt. “And when did it become our part of the bargain to keep your horse from running away? Perhaps you should have guarded him more closely yourselves, instead of trying to fix the blame on us.”

  “It is true there was another horse,” muttered Fasolt, squinting in his effort to comprehend the mystery.

  “If there was another horse, I know who sent it,” said Fafnir furiously.

  “There comes your horse now.” Odin pointed with his spear, and they saw Svathilfari come limping out of the fringe of trees at the foot of the hill. They stood in silence as the great horse drew near. His mane was bedraggled and full of briars, his hide scraped, and he walked as though weary to exhaustion. When he reached them he paused and looked around with bewilderment, as if he could not understand how it came to be daylight, nor why they were all gathered there.

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  “You wretch!” Fafnir strode to him and gave him a blow across the head that sent him staggering. “What possessed you to run off? We have lost our reward because of you!”

  Odin saw a flicker of fire in the air, and looking back saw Loki standing at his shoulder. The lord of fire glanced around with an innocent air; he looked disheveled and windblown, but his eyes danced. Seeing Svathilfari, he murmured, “Seems to have lost some of that fiery temper.”

  “Be silent!” Odin hissed at him. Loki was capable of teasing the giants out of pure impudence, revealing more than he realized; Fafnir at least was not such a dolt as he appeared. Even now he was gazing at them with his little eyes full of furious surmises.

  “What do you know of our horse, lord of fire?” rumbled the giant.

  “I?” Loki opened his eyes wide. “What should I know of him?”

  “Enough,” said Odin before Loki could entangle himself further. “There is no point in discussion. The contract is abrogated; Freya stays with us.”

  “She comes with us.” Fafnir fixed his eyes on the girl, who flung back her golden tresses and stared boldly back.

  “I will not!” she said. She dropped her brother’s arm and took a few mincing steps of defiance toward the giants. “Go home to your cold wastes alone! We do not want you great coarse ugly creatures here. The lord of the Aesir has given his decree, and no one defies him.”

  “The minx is courting danger,” Loki muttered in Odin’s ear.

  Fasolt gazed at Freya with troubled hunger, but Fafnir seemed to loom larger in his anger, and his great fists were loosely clenched. “Freya! Come here,” said Odin, seized with sudden fear.

  He spoke too late. As Freya pirouetted to return, Fafnir’s great arm flashed out and seized her around the waist. He lifted her into the air. She gave one startled scream, then began to struggle furiously, but in vain; his arm was clamped as solidly as an iron bar.

  With an oath Freyr sprang forward, but Fasolt stepped before Fafnir and met his attack with his great knotted stick. “We only want what is ours,” he mumbled, and struck a blow that sent Freyr sprawling among his companions.

  Enraged, Thor lifted Mjollnir, and thunder cracked from hill to hill. But Odin halted him. “Get back, Thor,” he commanded, and strode forward to face the giants. He lifted his spear and felt the surge of power course through it, as storm clouds gathered from the horizon’s rim to fill the roiling air. A great wind rose, blustering and bellowing; the giants staggered to keep their feet. He lifted the spear high, and cried in a sudden heartbeat of calm, “Release her!”

  Fasolt drew back uncertainly, but Fafnir growled, “Do you oppose us, Odin? Will you raise your spear against us and swear you know nothing of any trickery to cheat us of our reward? Will you swear it by that spear?”

  Odin stood with the spear high, and felt it quiver in his hand. He dared not take such an oath; the runes of truth were graven deep in Yggdrasil, and the very foundation of the worlds would crack if he should swear to a lie. Slowly he lowered Gungnir. The Aesir stood in stunned silence; the storm clouds dispersed in the fleeing winds.

  “Choose another reward,” Odin said in a voice he knew to be hollow.

  Fafnir laughed, a great, triumphant laugh that echoed in the hills. “Find something for us, Father of Deceits. Find something we will value above our prize. Then we will come and discuss it with you.” He turned and strode away toward the rainbow bridge, and Fasolt and Svathilfari followed at his heels. Freya stretched out her arms and cried to her brother, and the shrill keening of the wind mingled with her cries until she had passed out of hearing.

  Frigga turned to Odin. “So,” she said with weary scorn, “you are not foolish enough to pledge our Freya. You have everything under control.”

  “What good do you think your acrimony does?” said Odin, seized by despair. “How was I to know they would take her by force?”

  “They are giants, after all,” said Frigga. “But it is no matter. There is nothing to do now but wait for the end.” She turned back toward the gateway to Asgard.

  “What shall we do?” asked Freyr, his fists clenched, his face ashen. “Odin, how could you let them take her like that? She is one of us!”

  “I could not prevent them,” said Odin wearily. “The bargain must stand. There was treachery, and I knew of it.”

  “Loki!” cried Freyr, and would have sprung at the lord of fire if Thor had not seized him by the arm.

  “Calm yourself,” sad Thor. “It is the giants we should fight, not each other.”

  “It is his doing. I know it!” said Freyr. “Wherever there is treachery and turmoil, it is of his making.”

  “Naturally,” said Loki, lifting deprecating hands. “What other purpose have I, than to be a scapegoat for the Aesir?”

  “You come of giant blood yourself,” said Freyr, trembling with fury. “Do you think we have forgotten who conspired with the witch of the Ironwood to bring down disaster on Asgard? Whose fault it was that Tyr lost his hand, or Sif her golden hair? It is always you—”

  “Enough!” thundered Odin. “I will not have this quarreling among us!”

  “Indeed,” said Loki, his eyes glittering dangerously, “if you wish to see your precious Freya again, I think you would be wise to speak softly to me.”

  Odin turned on him, breathing hard. ‘Loki, if you wish ever again to be welcome in Asgard., you will do as I asked, and discover a reward the giants will accept in her place.”

  “Oh, I will try,” said Loki with a shrug. “But I have already searched everywhere conceivable. Nowhere, from the depths of Aegir’s watery domain to the coldest reaches of Hela’s kingdom, is any prize as valued as a woman’s hand, a woman’s love. The giants have taken the choicest treasure of all.”

  “They have indeed,” said Odin, as rage swelled in him. “They have stolen our youth, our strength! And Fafnir knows it well. You must find a reward they will accept in exchange.” His fury exploded in a shout. “Go! And do not return without it!”

  “I go, I go.” Loki danced away with a chuckle, and vanished in a whirl of sparks.

  “What can we do?” asked Freyr in despair.

  “I know what I will do,” said Thor, hefting his hammer. “I will go after them, crack a couple of skulls, and bring her back.”

  “No.” Odin’s shoulders bowed. “We must not. The contract stands. We can do nothing until Loki finds a solution.”

  Thor and Freyr exchanged glances, then with a mutter the great red-bearded Aesir swung his hammer over his shoulder and strode back into Asgard. Freyr followed him, his steps slow.

  Odin stood alone beneath the high battlements of Asgard. The new towers rose fair and strong in the sunlight and fresh wind, firm as the bones of the mountain that formed their foundation. Odin gazed up at them, but the sight no longer moved his heart to exaltation. He was filled with anger, frustration and a sense of fear, for he alone knew fully how vulnerable the Aesir were without their source of strength. As the breeze stirred his cloak he clutched it around him tightly, feeling already the threatening chill of age.