Babels of Bedlam - Part 11

“Old Snorri has got himself a new disciple,” Al spoke suddenly.

As his comrade entered the manor’s massive study, he gave Al a cheeky smile.

“Always did enjoy sneaking around, didn’t you, Al? I see you’ve made yourself right at home.”

“And I heard Faceless Stig disappeared again,” Al countered.

“Would you like something, then?” His friend asked, approaching the fireplace. Al had always been like this - brisk, to the point. By then, it was no longer off-putting. He dared to say it was actually comforting. “A cup of tea, maybe?”

“Stan," Al sighed. "Are you hearing a word-”

“Yes, yes.” Stan waved dismissively, reaching for the matchbook on the mantle. “The new kid in town is Erik. Found his way here after wandering around for a bit. From Muspelheimr, I suspect, but he hasn’t caused any considerable amount of trouble.”

“But he’s got a strong presence,” Al disputed as his friend struck a match and threw it onto the pile of logs in the hearth.

“Then you’ve scouted him out?” It wasn't really a question, as Stan knew the answer. Instead, he watched the spark hit a smaller twig and set it ablaze, spreading with patient consistency to the others.

“At a pub near Snorri’s café.”

“Did he give you any trouble?” Stan asked, taking a step back and collapsing into the armchair adjacent to Al’s.

“No – barely looked at me.”

Stan chuckled. “Then what’s there to worry about. He’s with Snorri, who wouldn’t dare let anything dubious go on beneath his nose. You know that. And anyway, Erik obviously knows not to test us. Most with a stronger blood presence know who we are, Al. No need to worry so much.”

Al crossed his arms over his chest. He trusted Stan, but still, something didn’t feel right. Maybe it wasn’t Erik at all. Maybe it was that Owen kid.

“And about Stig,” Stan continued. “I know. That bugger’s a frustrating one. The moment I get a hit on a location, he’s already in the wind.”

“Vin says he managed to get his thieving hands on a third piece,” Al sighed said, like they needed to stoke the fire anymore. “But I’m sure you already know that.”

“The one from Midgardr.” Stan would've rather not talked about it. It was right under their noses the entire time, and yet, that thief cracked the code first. Frustrating as it might've been, it was his pride that hurt the most. “The damn thing was in Britain all along. Some swanky archeologist dug it up in Orkney.”

“Orkney?” Al demanded, furrowing his brow. “How the hell did Stig find it? What type of resources does this bloody man have?”

“Jotunn.” A single word, but a firm reminder. "Which makes it all the more vexing. He has such a low presence for a jotunn – no strong ties to any particular land – and yet is capable of accomplishing things only etinn with presences like Snorri should be able to. Leaves the reasoning to the fact that he has to have a lot of friends in high places.”

Al nodded in concurrence. “Or he’s just a pawn for a powerful etinn looking to save face.”

“Either way, we’re losing ground.” Stan sighed. “We have three pieces, as does he. Three are left unclaimed and it’s clear that time is running out. Stig is getting quicker with his filches.”

“Our only saving grace is the fact that the three pieces in our possession are secured – unreachable by him.”

He sounded far too confident for Stan's liking

“Or so we hope,” he muttered. “Still, whether or not they’re safe in our custody, he’ll need to confront us one way or another in order to get to them.”

Al watched as the flames grew and shrank, dancing with each other in the hearth.

“But even so, the more fragments that we collect, the less he has.” The simplicity of it sounded stupid as it came out of Stan's mouth, or so he thought. Still, he pressed on. “That simple fact is enough of an incentive to find them. We don’t know what he’s capable of, or worse, what his friends in high places are capable of. Just because he has a weak presence does not mean we can underestimate him – he’s already proven that.”

Watching the flames himself, Stan’s assurance faltered.

“But the last three pieces are hidden in three of the most unforgiving realms. Even with Vin’s help, our chances aren’t good.”

Al frowned. “Speaking of that, have you ever heard of a kid named Owen?”

Stan brow furrowed. “An etinn?”

“Yeah, he was at the pub earlier. Had an… unnerving air about him. He was alone but ended up with the attention of Erik - conversed with him for a few minutes.”

“One of Snorri’s, then?” Stan questioned. “I haven’t heard of him, but he could be new. I mean, if his presence wasn’t a threat-”

“It wasn’t that.” Al shook his head. “I went over to gauge him, but it was like he was expecting me. Rather - he informed me he was expecting me.”

“What for?”

“He said he was sent by Vin.” Al watcedh his comrade’s expression carefully, though Stan was never taken by surprise – or, at least, he never showed it. “To help us with the collection of the sword. It made sense, to be honest; a jotunn would be an ideal aid when traveling to and from the other realms - amongst other things - but like hell I was going to accept his proposal right off the bat.”

“Yeah,” Stan granted. “And, yes, that sounds like the exact type of thing Vin would do, but it would be a crapshoot to try and figure out if it’s for real. I mean, one, it’s not as if you find etinn willing to aid riders on the corner of every street, and two, in order to be helpful to us in any way, he would have to be a very specific type of jotunn.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Al agreed, despite the anxiety squeezing his stomach.

“Well, I suppose,” Stan began after a moment. “Either way, this Owen deserves more of a closer look. Go give Snorri a visit. See if he knows anything about this kid. And might as well talk to Erik, while you’re at it. He spoke with the guy, maybe he knows something we don’t. Any information would be useful, at this point.”

Al nodded, pushing himself up from the chair.

“What about you?”

“I’m going to see if I can catch Stig’s scent.” Standing, he flashed Al a light grin. “See you soon, old boy.”