She looked at the paper for a moment. “I know the letters of Midgard’s southmen. It is your name.”
He turned back to Tove who looked at the paper with intense curiosity. She dipped the pen and was about to put it on the paper when Erik stopped her.
“Okay, be gentle. If we break it, they might stop being so nice.”
Tove nodded, pulling the rough shape of runes across the paper, spelling her own name. She smiled, pleased with herself. “Why do they not have this in Kvernes? Fools, I told you. Idiots.” She shook her head, growing annoyed with the people she’d left behind. “All they’ve done is sit there drinking their ale and growing fat and worthless.” She held up the paper. “This… this is amazing.” She looked at Erik, smiling. “I was right to choose you, as Göll did.”
He laughed. “Is that what happened? You chose me?”
She nodded, hugging the paper to her body. “I did. And you should praise me for choosing so well.”
“Ha! Good work, then. Seeing my enormous inherent value.”
Tove went back to scratching runes on the paper and Erik returned to the couch. “Will you teach me your letters one day, Erik?”
“Sure. I can probably remember all of them.”
A knock came at the door and Tove dropped the pen, putting her hand to her sword. Erik closed his hands lightly around the grips.
“Come in.”
The door opened revealing a young-looking guard. He came in holding a small tray and took it to the nearest table. He stood stark upright, placing a fist at a right angle across his stomach as the men in Lofgrund had done. It made Erik tense, but the guard started talking.
“I have a selection of things for you to enjoy. They are-are-are on the plate. A kth—” He bit his tongue. The boy winced, doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with anyone in the room. He took a deep breath. “I will return with a selection of wine shortly I apologize for my mistakes please do not look poorly on our guard as a result.”
He had said it all as one long sentence and quickly turned, fleeing the room. Outside the door, he heard the snickering of what must have been a few other guards. Erik rose, walking to the tray. Tove had run to it more than walked and arrived at nearly the same time as he did, pushing him out of the way. She stopped, staring down at the food on the plate.
“What is it?”
Erik looked over her shoulder. It was foie gras, seared and put on tiny crusts of bread. They were hors d’oeuvres, there were no two ways about it.
“It’s duck liver, sort of.”
She picked it up, leaving the tiny crust of bread behind. “It doesn’t look like any liver I’ve seen.” She popped it into her mouth, her eyes widening. “What is this? It is not liver! It… it’s… some kind of meat… butter.”
“Haha, yeah. That’s pretty much right.” He picked one up and ate it. It was well-cooked and smooth.
Tove slapped at his arm, as if remembering something. “And the lights on the streets. Were they oil lamps? All of them?”
Erik had heard the gas hissing into them and knew they must have been fed by pipes. He tried explaining it to Tove but the ideas were far too foreign for such a cursory explanation. He couldn’t offer answers for some of the deeper aspects anyway, so he was happy that she forgot the conversation to busy herself with food. The wine came and before they had a chance to drink any of it, there was another knock on the door. It opened and a small man with a square face came in.
“Greetings, einherjar.” The man bowed at the waist, arm across his stomach as others had done. It occurred to Erik that it was how one might hold a shield. “Which of your names would you prefer you were called?”
“Erik’s fine.”
“Then, Erik the Chosen, if you would follow me.”
The sudden addition of a title was odd, but Erik decided not to question it. He followed along and the man led them out of the room inside the gatehouse and toward the north.
“So where are we going? What should I call you?”
“I am a custodian. You may call me Custodian as a name would be beyond my station. Please keep close.”
He hadn’t answered the first question and his answer to the second wasn’t one he had expected. The man leading them was well-dressed and moved with distinct purpose. His pace wasn’t too fast, but it was brisk.
“This is the residential district. Mostly homes, you see. There is no crime among our people and very few leave.”
“Uh, great?”
“Modgudr takes their needs into account and sees to the problems as they arise. Hel, glorious though her name is to hear, cares little for things which occur here. That is why she has given Modgudr the unenviable task of seeing to those who chose to spend their time here.” They were out of the residential area and the man held an arm out to the right side of the street. “This area is replete with shops, carrying every good a body could desire at reasonable prices.”
This was odd. There was no other way to see it. Erik felt as if he was going to be sold a small home in the city or invited to join the local government.
“I guess the shops don’t have any crime either?”
The custodian ignored the statement, continuing on.
“This is the first of our four squares.” He motioned to the left. “The statue is of Hel in her glory. She looks as splendid as marble is able to capture.” They passed the square and another hand came out. “The entertainment district. Brothels and alehouses and games of chance. All the spices of life kept in a convenient area.”
They passed through the district again, into an enormous square with a statue of Hel twice as large as the
