Erik held up a hand. “That’s really going to take a long time to explain. I was wrong. I’m okay with that. It doesn’t matter. The point is I didn’t do anything. I was just… I lived in an apartment, not that you know what that is, but I wasn’t important.”
Vár drank from a cup of tea Ljunge had brought. “He speaks the truth. He was wholly unimportant in Midgard. Pathetic by most measures. And weak. Not even a hair on his chin.” Erik started to complain but Vár finished her thought. “He’s come a long way.”
He was taken aback by the comment. “I don’t like that you’re being nice to me.”
“Honesty is neither kind nor rude.” Vár sighed and swatted Ljunge who’d gotten too close. The swipe drew blood from a fine cut. He did not lean away. “I am growing very weary of being in a room with this man.”
Ljunge leaned back. “Yes, but he leads the warband so it falls to us to put up with him.” He shook his head mournfully. “A pity I wasn’t picked. You can admit that you feel as much, Vár.”
Vár stood. “How long do you intend on sitting in this room, Haki Erik Styrsson?”
Erik rubbed his temples. “Until Tove can walk. And then we’ll go to Hel’s… keep? Castle? Her whatever.”
She walked to Erik’s place on the couch, grabbing his arm and pulling him up. “Your clothes are a mess. I won’t have you see my mistress in them and I will not sit in a room with a living mistake of personal judgement for any longer.” She turned. “Pervert, you will watch the two that remain here, do you understand me?”
Ljunge gave a wide smile. “I will do anything that pleases you, Vár.”
She shivered, pulling Erik toward the door. Erik pulled back stopping short.
“What about an attack? Won’t they come for Göll?”
Vár pulled the door open, shaking her head. “Odin would not risk his precious einherjar for an ale-bearer. A norn, perhaps. Likely he has already fled to Asgard and is waiting to see what it is that you do.” She turned, walking into the hall. “If you are satisfied then follow me. We will return for them when you are well-dressed.”
Erik followed Vár out into the elevator and down through the lobby. When they were out on the sidewalk, she slowed her brisk pace, falling back to Erik’s side. She looked at him quietly as they walked toward the street full of shops he’d been to only a few days before.
“What?”
“You are strange to me.”
“I can imagine. Mind if I ask some questions?”
“I will answer what I can.”
“How long have you served Hel?”
She thought on it for a moment. “Hm. More than a thousand years, if I were to guess. The days fall together after so long.”
“And you remember all of them? People don’t go crazy? I’d probably lose it after farming for a few hundred years.”
“They remember enough. My mistress is subtle and lifting the weight of the ages is not something simply done. She understands their minds well enough.”
“Magic, then.”
“Crassly put, but if it will move you on to a more interesting question…”
“Why serve her?”
“Hel is the only sane creature in the nine worlds.” Vár turned to him, her eyes serious. “You would do well to keep that in mind. And to respect it. That is all I will say. You may ask her questions about herself.”
Erik laughed absently, looking around the street. “So you’re upset I didn’t ask more things about you in particular? Like what’s your favorite meal.”
“I felt no such thing. And I enjoy fried things.”
He smiled, not letting Vár see. It was possible she wasn’t as bad as she seemed. “Thanks, by the way.”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “For?”
“Mystery swords. Standing between me and a valkyrie. Stabbing me in the lung.”
It was meant half as a joke, the stabbing bit. She’d helped in ways he hadn’t understood at the time and, in truth, he wanted some reaction beyond what she normally gave.
She said nothing, the rest of the walk being a quiet one. They arrived at a store selling clothing. Vár went in first and the clerk there seemed shocked to see her.
“Madame Vár! I was not aware you were nearby. I apologize for… for… being… slack?” An apology that made no sense. “Of course, whatever you need will be supplied.”
“Didn’t realize you were famous.”
Vár ignored the clerk, answering Erik. “I am known.” She turned her attention then to the panicking girl. “Dress this one. He’s seeing Hel. And bring a dress, one smaller than mine. Sized… nearly for a child. Or a girl who looks like a child. Like mine but more colorful. It should please the farm girl, yes?” She asked the question to Erik, not expecting an answer and turned back to the clerk. “And an outfit a fool might wear.”
“Yes, at once.”
It was clear from the girl’s face that she hadn’t understood for a moment what it was that Vár had meant by the last part, but she set about her work, measuring Erik. When she was done, she turned to Vár.
“Is… is the fool… is he roughly the same size as this man?”
“It does not matter. A potato sack would do, so long as it is clean.”
The girl nodded, nervous to the point of terror, and went into the back. She returned with a dark pair of pants for Erik, alongside a button up shirt, waistcoat, and an overcoat. He was sent to a changing room. It was finer than what he’d been given by Modgudr, but it fit awkwardly.
The clerk seemed pleased with it. “I will make adjustments, it shouldn’t take a moment.”
He returned to his old clothes and stood waiting with Vár. People who passed the shop saw her and continued on.
“Are people scared of you?”
Vár looked over her shoulder out the door. “Most people are scared of me, yes. It saves me a great deal of trouble.”
“Don’t you
