The Liar's Key
“Gods watch us,” said Snorri. “We ask no aid, only that you witness.”
“Damn that, God help me! The heathen can make his own way if he wants!”
Snorri shot me a grin, took the door and heaved it open. The light seemed to shine through his flesh, offering only his bones, the broader grin of his skull. And in a moment he was through.
The door slipped from my grasp and slammed shut behind him. I’d blame it on sweaty fingers if they weren’t more parched than they had ever been. I should have reached to open it again but my arms kept by my sides.
“Oh God, I can’t do it.” My voice broke.
“There’s no shame in that.” Kara reached out to touch my shoulder and in that moment I fell into her, wrapping both arms around her, wracked by a sob, half of it shame and half the mourning of another friend, perhaps my only friend, now as good as dead.
I’m not proud of what my hands did at that point. Well. Just a little proud, because it was clever work, no doubting that. I knew that Loki being a fellow of tricks and thievery, if he existed—which he doesn’t because there’s only the one God and he’s quiet enough that I’m not always sure of him even—anyway, I knew that his curse prohibited the strong taking the key by force but surely Kara had already shown me that a bit of stealing would be in the spirit of the thing. I stepped back sniffing, one hand rubbing at my eyes and the other concealing Loki’s key now grown conveniently small as if it approved of the deception. I’m not sure how long I expected it to take for Kara to notice it was missing—unless she forgot about locking the door she was pretty much bound to discover its absence within moments. Frankly, I wasn’t thinking very clearly. All I knew was that there was no way in Hell I was walking into Hell and that now I had the ticket to Grandmother’s good books in my hand, quite possibly the ticket to the throne when she vacated it. Moreover, I was now the owner of a salt mine that had suddenly gained access to the largest and most lucrative deposit of salt north of the great Saha in Afrique, thus making me a very rich man indeed. It wasn’t a salt mine any more, it was a gold mine! Adding those two to the other thousand or so reasons not to go with Snorri left me convinced that any personal shame was well worth the price. After all . . . always take the money! I had my price, and it turned out to be “everything.” And my shame had only two witnesses, both of them heathens. If they didn’t like it I’d just take to my legs and not stop running until I reached home.
• • •
Home—there’s a magic word. I hadn’t properly appreciated it on my first return but this time I would be going home the rich and conquering hero and I’d damn well enjoy it. After all, did I not say: I’m a liar and a cheat and a coward, but I will never, ever, let a friend down. Unless of course not letting them down requires honesty, fair play, or bravery.
Consistency! That’s the finest virtue a man can possess. Somebody famous said that. Famous and wise. And if they didn’t then they damned well should have.
Somehow all these thoughts managed to cram themselves through my head in the moments of silence that stretched between me, Kara, and Hennan. Warmed by the memory of home, I even started to think everything would all be all right. Kara would probably soften to me on the way back . . . show me her northern delights . . .
When the door banged open and a thick arm grabbed the neck of my shirt, hauling me backward through it, I didn’t even have time to scream.