The Sword of Summer Read online

  Hearthstone sat next to us on the asphalt. Ducks, he signed. Always ducks.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Blitz moaned. ‘When I’m stressed, I default to waterfowl. I don’t know why.’

  ‘No worries,’ I said. ‘Junior had a setback. His first project is pretty much ruined.’

  Blitz tried to brush the cinders off his white shirt. ‘It doesn’t matter. Junior’s first item is always his warm-up. He’s got two more chances to destroy me.’

  ‘Hey, none of that.’ I rummaged through our supply bag and handed out canteens of water and some peanut-butter crackers.

  Hearthstone ate like a starving elf. Then he sat back and shone a flashlight on his face, trying to absorb the rays. Blitzen barely sipped his water.

  ‘I never wanted this,’ Blitz murmured. ‘Crafting contests, magic items. All I ever wanted was to design quality clothing and sell it at reasonable prices in my own store.’

  I stared at his sweat-stained collar and thought about what Freya had said: Blitzen is a genius at fabrics and fashion. The other dwarves don’t appreciate his expertise, but I think it’s marvellous.

  ‘That’s your dream,’ I realized. ‘That’s why you drank from Mimir’s Well – to find out how to open a clothing shop?’

  Blitzen scowled. ‘It was more than that. I wanted to follow my dream. I wanted other dwarves to stop laughing at me. I wanted to avenge my father’s death and restore the family’s honour! But those things didn’t go together. I went to Mimir for advice.’

  ‘And … what did he say?’

  Blitzen shrugged helplessly. ‘Four years of service – that was the price for drinking from his well. He said the cost of knowledge was also the answer. By serving him, I would get what I wanted. Except I didn’t. Now I’m going to die.’

  No, Hearth signed. Someday you will get your dream.

  ‘How, exactly?’ Blitzen asked. ‘It’s a little hard to cut and sew fabric when you’re decapitated.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ I said.

  In my chest, several ideas started to smelt together into a usable molten ingot – unless that sensation was just the peanut-butter crackers. I thought about my sword that could turn into a pendant, and Sam’s hijab that was magical high-tech camouflage. ‘Blitz, your next two items are going to be awesome.’

  ‘How do you know? I might panic and make more ducks!’

  ‘You want to make clothing, right? So make clothing.’

  ‘Kid, this is a forge, not a haberdashery. Besides, fashion is not a recognized craft.’

  ‘What about armour?’

  Blitz hesitated. ‘Well, yeah, but –’

  ‘What about fashionable clothing that doubles as armour?’

  Blitz’s mouth fell open. ‘Balder’s Bling … Kid, you may be on to something!’ He shot to his feet and began hurrying around the workspace, gathering tools.

  Hearth beamed at me – literally, since he still had the flashlight aimed at his face. He tapped his free hand to his head – the sign for genius.

  When Nabbi called time, I took over at the bellows to give Hearth a rest. He stood guard. Stoking the fire was about as fun as riding a stationary bike inside a baking oven.

  After a while, Blitzen took me off the bellows and had me assist with the crafting. I was hopeless at it, but being forced to give me directions seemed to increase Blitz’s confidence. ‘No, put that here. No, the big tongs! Hold it steady, kid! That’s not steady!’

  I lost track of time. I didn’t pay much attention to what Blitz was making – something small, woven from chain. Instead I kept thinking about the Sword of Summer, now back in pendant form around my neck.

  I remembered walking from the docks to Copley Square, half delirious with hunger and exhaustion, and the imaginary conversation I’d had with the blade. I considered how the sword either hummed or stayed silent, either guided my hand or lay heavy and inert. If it had a soul and emotions – then I hadn’t given it enough credit. I’d been treating it like a dangerous object. I should be treating it like a person.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said under my breath, trying not to feel ridiculous. ‘When you cut that dart out of the air earlier, you saved my friend. I should’ve thanked you sooner.’

  The pendant seemed to grow warmer, though standing next to the forge it was hard to be sure.

  ‘Sumarbrander,’ I said. ‘Is that what you like to be called? Sorry I’ve been ignoring you.’

  Hmmm, the pendant hummed sceptically.

  ‘You’re much more than a sword,’ I said. ‘You’re not just for slashing at things. You –’

  From across the courtyard, Nabbi yelled, ‘Ten minutes until lunch break!’

  ‘Oh, gods,’ Blitzen muttered. ‘I can’t – Kid, quick! Hand me that texturing hammer.’

  His hands flew, snatching up various tools, making minor adjustments to his creation. It didn’t look like much – just a flat, narrow length of chain mail – but Blitz worked as if his life depended on it, which it did.

  He folded and crimped the chain mail into its final shape, then soldered the seam.

  ‘It’s a necktie!’ I realized. ‘Blitzen, I actually recognize what you made!’

  ‘Thank you. Shut up.’ He raised his soldering gun and announced, ‘Done!’ just as a crash reverberated from Junior’s workstation.

  ‘GAAHHH!’ screamed the old dwarf.

  The entire crowd surged to their feet.

  Junior was on his butt, cradling his face in his hands. On his worktable sat a flattened, misshapen lump of cooling iron.

  His bodyguards rushed to help him.

  ‘Damnable insect!’ Junior howled. He was bleeding from the bridge of his nose. He looked at his palms but apparently found no squashed bug. ‘I hit it this time, I’m sure! Where is it?’

  Nabbi and the other judges frowned in our direction, as if we somehow might have orchestrated a kamikaze insect attack. I guess we looked clueless enough to convince them otherwise.

  ‘Time for lunch,’ Nabbi announced. ‘One more item shall be made this afternoon!’

  We ate quickly, because Blitz was raring to get back to work.

  ‘I’ve got the hang of it now,’ he said. ‘I’ve got it. Kid, I owe you big-time.’

  I glanced over at Junior’s workstation. His bodyguards were glaring at me, cracking their knuckles.

  ‘Let’s just get through the contest,’ I said. ‘I wish Sam was here. We may need to fight our way out.’

  Hearth gave me a curious look when I mentioned Sam.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  He shook his head and went back to eating his watercress sandwich.

  The afternoon session went quickly. I was so busy on guard duty I barely had time to think. Junior must have hired some extra saboteurs, because every half hour or so I had to deal with a new threat: a spear thrown from the audience, a rotten apple aimed at Blitzen’s head, a steam-powered predator drone and a pair of dwarves in green Spandex jumpsuits wielding baseball bats. (The less said about that, the better.) Each time, the Sword of Summer guided my hand and neutralized the threat. Each time, I remembered to thank the sword.

  I could almost discern its voice now: Yeah, okay. Mmm-hmm. I suppose. Like it was slowly warming up to me, getting over its resentment at being ignored.

  Hearthstone rushed around the workstation, bringing Blitz extra materials and tools. Blitz was weaving a larger, more complicated piece of metal fabric. Whatever it was, he seemed pleased.

  Finally, he set down his bezel roller and shouted, ‘Success!’

  At the same moment, Junior suffered his most spectacular fail. His bodyguards had been standing close, ready for another kamikaze insect attack, but it made no difference. As Junior brought down his hammer for a master stroke, a dark speck zipped out of the sky. The horsefly bit Junior on the face so hard he spun sideways under the momentum of his hammer. Wailing and staggering, he knocked both his guards unconscious, destroyed the contents of two worktables and swept his third invention into th
e forge before he collapsed on the asphalt.

  It shouldn’t have been funny – an old dwarf getting humiliated like that. Except that it was, kind of. Probably because that old dwarf was a spiteful, nasty piece of work.

  In the midst of the commotion, Nabbi rang a hand bell. ‘The contest has ended!’ he announced. ‘Time for judging the items … and killing the loser!’

  FORTY-FOUR

  Junior Wins a Bag of Tears

  Sam picked that moment to show up.

  She shouldered through the crowd, her headscarf pulled low over her face. Her jacket was dusted with ash, as if she’d spent the night in a chimney.

  I wanted to yell at her for being gone so long, but my anger evaporated when I noticed her black eye and swollen lip.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Little scuffle,’ she said. ‘No worries. Let’s watch the judging.’

  Spectators gathered around two tables on the sideline, where Junior’s and Blitzen’s crafts were on display. Blitzen stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking confident despite his snapped braces, his grease-stained shirt and his sweat-soaked pork-pie hat.

  Junior’s face was a bloody mess. He could barely hold himself up on his walker. The murderous gleam in his eyes made him look like a serial killer exhausted after a hard day’s work.

  Nabbi and the other judges circled the tables, inspecting the crafted items and jotting notes on their clipboards.

  At last Nabbi faced the audience. He arched his wriggly eyebrows and tried for a smile.

  ‘Well, then!’ he said. ‘Thank you all for attending this contest, sponsored by Nabbi’s Tavern, famous among taverns, built by Nabbi and home to Nabbi’s Stout, the only mead you’ll ever need. Now our contestants will tell us about their first items. Blitzen, son of Freya!’

  Blitz gestured to his metal sculpture. ‘It’s a duck.’

  Nabbi blinked. ‘And … what does it do?’

  ‘When I press its back …’ Blitzen did so. The duck swelled to three times its size, like a frightened pufferfish. ‘It turns into a larger duck.’

  The second judge scratched his beard. ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Blitz said. ‘I call it the Expando-Duck. It’s perfect if you need a small metal duck. Or a larger metal duck.’

  The third judge turned to his colleagues. ‘Garden knick-knack, perhaps? Conversation piece? Decoy?’

  Nabbi coughed. ‘Yes, thank you, Blitzen. And now you, Eitri Junior, son of Edna. What is your first creation?’

  Junior wiped the blood out of his eyes. He held up his flattened iron cylinder, with several springs and latches dangling from it. ‘This is a self-guiding troll-seeking missile! If it were undamaged, it could destroy any troll at a distance of half a mile. And it’s reusable!’

  The crowd murmured appreciatively.

  ‘Um, but does it work?’ asked the second judge.

  ‘No!’ Junior said. ‘It was ruined on the final hammer stroke. But if it did work –’

  ‘But it doesn’t,’ observed the third judge. ‘So what is it at the moment?’

  ‘It’s a useless metal cylinder!’ Junior snarled. ‘Which isn’t my fault!’

  The judges conferred and scribbled some notes.

  ‘So, in the first round,’ Nabbi summed up, ‘we have an expandable duck versus a useless metal cylinder. Our contestants are running very close indeed. Blitzen, what is your second item?’

  Blitzen proudly held up his chain-mail neckware. ‘The bulletproof tie!’

  The judges lowered their clipboards in perfect synchronicity.

  ‘What?’ asked Nabbi.

  ‘Oh, come now!’ Blitz turned to the audience. ‘How many of you have been in the embarrassing situation of wearing a bulletproof waistcoat without a matching bulletproof tie?’

  In the back of the crowd, one dwarf raised his hand.

  ‘Exactly!’ Blitzen said. ‘Not only is this accessory fashionable, but it will stop anything up to a 30-06 round. It can also be worn as a cravat.’

  The judges frowned and took notes, but a few audience members seemed impressed. They examined their shirts, maybe thinking how underdressed they felt without a chain-mail neckpiece.

  ‘Junior?’ asked Nabbi. ‘What is your second work of craftsmanship?’

  ‘The Goblet of Infinity!’ Junior gestured to a misshapen hunk of iron. ‘It holds a limitless amount of any liquid – great for road trips through waterless wastelands.’

  ‘Uh …’ Nabbi pointed with his pen. ‘It looks a bit crushed.’

  ‘Stupid horsefly again!’ Junior protested. ‘It bit me right between the eyes! Not my fault if an insect turned my brilliant invention into a slag heap.’

  ‘Slag heap,’ Nabbi repeated, jotting on his clipboard. ‘And, Blitzen, your final item?’

  Blitzen held up a glittering length of woven-metal fabric. ‘The chain-mail waistcoat! For use with a three-piece suit of chain mail. Or, if you want to dress it down, you can wear it with jeans and a nice shirt.’

  And a shield, Hearthstone offered.

  ‘Yes, and a shield,’ Blitzen said.

  The third judge leaned forward, squinting. ‘I suppose it would offer some minor protection. If you were stabbed in the back at a disco, for instance.’

  The second judge jotted something down. ‘Does it have any magical abilities?’

  ‘Well, no,’ Blitz said. ‘But it’s reversible: silver on the outside, gold on the inside. Depending on what jewellery you’re wearing, or what colour armour –’

  ‘I see.’ Nabbi made a note on his clipboard and turned to Junior. ‘And your final item, sir?’

  Junior’s fists trembled with rage. ‘This is unfair! I have never lost a contest. All of you know my skills. This meddler, this poseur Blitzen has somehow managed to ruin my –’

  ‘Eitri Junior, son of Edna,’ interrupted Nabbi, ‘what is your third item?’

  He waved impatiently at the furnace. ‘My third item is in there! It doesn’t matter what it was, because it’s now boiling sludge!’

  The judges circled up and conferred. The crowd shifted restlessly.

  Nabbi faced the audience. ‘Judging has been difficult. We have weighed the merits of Junior’s boiling sludge, slag heap and useless metal cylinder against the chain-mail waistcoat, bulletproof tie and Expando-Duck. It was a close call. However, we judge the winner of this contest to be Blitzen, son of Freya!’

  Spectators applauded. Some gasped in disbelief. A female dwarf in a nurse’s outfit, possibly Bambi, famous among dwarf nurses, passed out cold.

  Hearthstone jumped up and down and made the ends of his scarf do the wave. I looked for Sam, but she was hanging back at the edges of the crowd.

  Junior scowled at his fists as if deciding whether to hit himself. ‘Fine,’ he growled. ‘Take my head! I don’t want to live in a world where Blitzen wins crafting contests!’

  ‘Junior, I don’t want to kill you,’ Blitzen said. Despite his win, he didn’t sound proud or gloating. He looked tired, maybe even sad.

  Junior blinked. ‘You – you don’t?’

  ‘No. Just give me the earrings and the rope as you promised. Oh, and a public admission that my father was right about Gleipnir all along. You should have replaced it centuries ago.’

  ‘Never!’ Junior shrieked. ‘You impugn my father’s reputation! I cannot –’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get my axe,’ Blitzen said in a resigned tone. ‘I’m afraid the blade is a little dull …’

  Junior gulped. He looked longingly at the bulletproof necktie. ‘Very well. Perhaps … perhaps Bilì had a point. The rope needed replacement.’

  ‘And you were wrong to tarnish his reputation.’

  The old dwarf’s facial muscles convulsed, but he managed to get out the words. ‘And I was … wrong. Yes.’

  Blitzen gazed up into the gloom, whispering something under his breath. I wasn’t a good lip-reader, but I was pretty sure he said, I love you, Dad. Goodb
ye.

  He refocused on Junior. ‘Now, about the items you promised …’

  Junior snapped his fingers. One of his bodyguards wobbled over, his head newly bandaged from his recent encounter with a hammer. He handed Blitzen a small velvet box.

  ‘Earrings for your mother,’ Junior said.

  Blitz opened the box. Inside were two tiny cats made from gold filigree like Brisingamen. As I watched, the cats stretched, blinking their emerald eyes and flicking their diamond tails.

  Blitz snapped the box shut. ‘Adequate. And the rope?’

  The bodyguard tossed him a ball of silk kite string.

  ‘You’re joking,’ I said. ‘That’s supposed to bind Fenris Wolf?’

  Junior glowered at me. ‘Boy, your ignorance is breathtaking. Gleipnir was just as thin and light, but its paradox ingredients gave it great strength. This rope is the same, only better!’

  ‘Paradox ingredients?’

  Blitz held up the end of the rope and whistled appreciatively. ‘He means things that aren’t supposed to exist. Paradox ingredients are very difficult to craft with, very dangerous. Gleipnir contained the footfall of a cat, the spittle of a bird, the breath of a fish, the beard of a woman.’

  ‘Dunno if that last one is a paradox,’ I said. ‘Crazy Alice in Chinatown has a pretty good beard.’

  Junior huffed. ‘The point is, this rope is even better! I call it Andskoti, the Adversary. It is woven with the most powerful paradoxes in the Nine Worlds – Wi-Fi with no lag, a politician’s sincerity, a printer that prints, healthy deep-fried food and an interesting grammar lecture!’

  ‘Okay, yeah,’ I admitted. ‘Those things don’t exist.’

  Blitz stuffed the rope in his backpack. He took out his pouch of tears and handed it to the old dwarf. ‘Thank you, Junior. I consider our bargain complete, but I would ask one more thing. Where is the island of Fenris Wolf?’

  Junior hefted his payment. ‘If I could tell you, Blitzen, I would. I’d be happy to see you ripped apart by the Wolf like your father was! Alas, I don’t know.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Yes, I said I checked on the rope from time to time. I lied! The truth is, very few gods or dwarves know where the Wolf’s island appears. Most of them are sworn to secrecy. How your father found the place, I really don’t know, but, if you want to find it, the best person to ask is Thor. He knows, and he has a big mouth.’

  ‘Thor,’ I said. ‘Where do we find Thor?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Junior admitted.

  Hearthstone signed, Sam might. She knows a lot about the gods.

  ‘Yeah.’ I turned. ‘Sam, get over here! Why are you lurking?’

  The crowd parted around her.

  As soon as Junior saw her, he made a strangled squawk. ‘You! It was you!’

  Sam tried to cover her busted lip. ‘Sorry? Have we met?’

  ‘Oh, don’t play innocent with me.’ Junior scooted forward on his walker, his flushed scalp turning his grey hair pink. ‘I’ve seen shape-shifters before. That scarf is the same colour as the horsefly’s wings. And that black eye is from when I swatted you! You’re in league with Blitzen! Friends, colleagues, honest dwarves – kill these cheaters!’