She flinched, and didn't answer.

"My God," I said, utterly exasperated, "and they call the human race shortsighted, blind, and stupid."

That earned me a hot glare. "I am not shortsighted, blind,or stupid!"

"Oh?" I asked softly. "Then prove it, Rangrid."

Her voice broke on desperation. "I can't! Ragnarok can't be changed! Odin will diethen . Nothing I do can stop him from killing you,because you can't possibly kill him! "

"Yes I can."

I said it quietly, reasonably, with the assurance of unassailable fact.

She stood gulping for several seconds, unable to find words. Finally, she whispered, "How can you know?"

Good question; but I wasn't quitting now. "Because the rules are off. You still don't see it, do you?

You went to Skuld for answers, because Odin shouldn't have been able to take Gary from that wreck.

Skuld didn't have any answers, because shecan't answer. All bets are off. Odin's been operating under free will, and so have you, but you didn't know it. Canyou explain why Odin's so scared of me? Just because Imight have freed Loki?"

I laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Sorry, Rangrid, it won't wash. If I'm just part of the grand scheme, what's to fear? I'd be just a cog in the wheel-and not a very big cog, at that. No, Rangrid , he's scared because the grand scheme's in tatters around his feet. Odin knows damned well I can kill him. That's why he's stacked the deck so badly against me.You can make the difference. You can do whatever you please, Rangrid, choose whatever side you want, be a loose cannon he's not expecting.

And think about this. Odin has no honor. You lose whatever honor you ever had, following his orders."

That really shook her. Rangrid's face went pale, and a tremor came to her hands. Getting a goddess who had thousands of years' worth of conditioning to predestination to swallow free will wastough; getting her to swallow treason was tougher. But then, treason always has been defined by the winner. John Adams and Tom Jefferson were traitors on one side of the Atlantic, patriots on the other.

I did sympathize with her. I knew how I'd feel if some green-horned, mealy-mouthed little alien showed up and tried to convince me that the law of gravity had stopped working-and calmly invited me to jump off the western rim of the Grand Canyon just to see for myself. I also knew exactly how I'd felt the day that slimy little German bastard had offered me ten thousand dollars for our code book.

I'd put him in the hospital.Then I'd reported him. Last I'd heard, he was still in prison. At least Rangrid didn't look like she planned on dismembering me. That was something.

"If," I continued very gently, "what you said about the final battle being so close at hand is true, then you've got precious little time left to make a decision. You can either die stupidly-uselessly-with Odin, or you can do something about him. I know I sound crazy as hell. But what in the world do you think drove me to go through all the agony I went through to get here? It took me weeks to convince myself , and I started out with an even bigger handicap than yours-I didn't even believe Odin wasreal .".

Her lips quirked in a ghost of her former smile.

"The more I learned-and the more times Odin tried to kill me-the angrier I got, until the only sane thing I could do was find him, and stop him. Somebodyhas to stop him, Rangrid. It's a whole new, unpredictable ballgame out there; and the way he's running this war, itis already over, because your general's convinced himself he's already lost."

She studied my face earnestly, and chewed at one thumbnail for a moment. Then stared at the thumb self-consciously and dropped her hand to her side.

"Go on, please," she said very quietly.

I drew a deep breath. "Rangrid, if you can't-or won't-stand up to one outdated old tyrant, then you don't deserve to survive, either. He may well kill me out there today. Hell, he might kill me so fast, I won't even have time to yell. But I'll go down kicking and biting every step of the way. And I'll try to rip out his throat with my teeth as I die, because I know how desperately he's got to be stopped. And if I win . . ."

Her eyes widened.

I added softly, "If I kill Odin, theneverything changes. At the very least, I think I'm a better soldier than he is. I don't lie to people, and I keep my promises-and don't make promises I know I can't keep.

I may be nothing but a mortal man, Rangrid; but I think I'm a better man than he is a god."

The tears in her eyes spilled over. I couldn't quite bring myself to add that I didn't want to die still thinking of her as my enemy.

Rangrid whirled, and flung the sword. It embedded itself point-first in the wall, and hung there, quivering. My eyes widened. Good God, she was strong. . . .

An instant later, I was engulfed by one hundred thirty pounds of valkyrie. For at least five minutes, neither one of us spared a single second for breathing. When we unclutched, I had to gulp for oxygen.

Her eyes blazed.

"Odin," she hissed, with a look in her eyes that made me very glad shewasn't my enemy, "will take your life only if he kills me first! And I am very much harder to kill than you."

It was not a boast.

I grinned and said, "Got any last words for your hero?"

She didn't; but then, she didn't need any.

And I'd thought that previous kiss explosive. . . .

When we finally came up for air again, I held out one hand, a little shakily. "Better give me that damned silly sword, Rangrid."

She managed to free it with one emphatic grunt, then handed it over hilt first. I examined it appreciatively. Being hurled into the wall didn't seem to have done it any harm. It wasn't ancient work,because the blade and hilt were quite obviously made from modern materials; but whoever had made it had put months of loving work into it. I wasn't a fencer; but I was a weapons buff, and a perennial haunter of military museums. I'd never seen craftsmanship like it in my life. I repressed a wistful sigh, then resheathed it and fastened the sheath to my sword belt. I got it right only after she shook her head and showed me how.

"It's hopeless," she murmured, watching me make awkward practice swings. "He'll cut you down where you stand. It isn't fair."

I flashed her a confident grin that had nothing to do with the way I felt. "Darling Rangrid, he didn't intend it to be fair. I'll just have to fight dirty."

She laughed, and threw her arms around my neck, kissing me again until we were both dizzy. I finally broke my lips free. "I don't suppose you've got a machine gun stashed anywhere around here? I'm a damned fine shot, if I do say so myself. . . ."

She shook her head slowly. "Odin fights only with traditional weapons."

"Huh. Figures. How the hell does he aim to fight a modern battle that way? Don't answer; I already know. He intends on losing. Stupid way to plan a war. . . ."

Her eyes went dark. "I don't want you to die," she whispered. "We need you to fight Surt and the sons of Muspell; but it's alive we need you. If he kills you, Randy, you'll just be one of his millions-and be wasted, along with the rest of them."

"Then I'll just have to take care not to get killed, won't I?" The breezy bravado in my voice barely masked the dread I felt. "You, uh, better get dressed; I think we're late."

There was a fearful pounding at the door. Rangrid threw herself into armor faster than I'd have thought possible without doing injury to sensitive spots. When she opened the door, another incredibly beautiful woman in full battle armor stood outside.

"He is ready?"

"Yes, sister. We are ready."

Rangrid's reply warmed me to the bottom of my terrified cockles. I threw her a smile; then resolutely squared my shoulders, grabbed my courage in both fists, and marched out to meet Odin.

Chapter Nineteen.

The great hall beyond the private chambers was a shambles. Broken dishes and tables, clean-picked bones, unidentifiable bits of garbage, spilled mead, and a few unconscious warriors were strewn randomly across the floor. Those warriors on their feet were swaying badly. The civilians I'd seen the previous night were conspicuously absent.

Odin waited on his massive throne. His single ruby eye followed our progress through the stench and the mess. My escorts saluted him, although I noted that Rangrid's was sloppy. I simply waited, poised lightly on the balls of my feet, one sweating hand on the hilt of my silly sword. I'd rather-far rather-have been holding Gary's knife, or even my lost AR-180 rifle.

Odin's glance swept me dismissively. "Are you prepared to die, mortal?"

I grinned. "Even the gods die sometime. Maybe this isyours , eh, Odin?"

Rangrid drew a sharp breath. The other valkyrie made an abortive move toward her sword. I ignored them both. Odin's face had lost color. The hall was so quiet, I heard a faint belch from at least a mile down the tables.

His attempt at a sneering grin was a dismal failure. "This should be uncommonly entertaining." It came out sounding forced.

I was, perhaps, more relaxed than I had a right to be. "I hope you sold lots of ringside seats. It isn't every day a god gets the immortal shit kicked out of him. Hell, after today, my future's in the bag: cereal endorsements, sportswear franchises, maybe even a shot at a commentator slot onMonday Night Football. "His stare was vacuous. Beside me Rangrid made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like choking laughter.

Odin scowled. I guess even Neanderthals catch on eventually when someone scores off them; he obviously didn't have the faintest idea how to score back. So he settled for an uncreative curse and a speech that was beginning to sound like a broken record.

"You have come living to Valhalla"-I never said he was genius material-"and you have feasted under my roof and partaken of the pleasures reserved for the Einherjar alone.

"You now must demonstrate that you deserve the right to join our ranks, or forfeit not only your life, but also your soul, to everlasting torment in the darkest, frozen wastes of Niflhel. The choice is yours: Die fighting and join us; or die shamefully, as a coward dies. Which do you choose?"

I stood watching him for a moment; then deliberately folded my arms across my chest and spat to one side. I'd fight him, all right-and die if I had to-but I wasn't about to buy into that ridiculous pair of choices. The way I had it figured, I had three options: fight and win, fight and die, or fight to a draw. If it turned out I couldn't physically kill him, then I had only one slim chance. And that depended on two things: Was Odin a betting man? And could I trust his sworn word to honor a lost bet?

Yeah, right.

I didn't have much choice.

So I looked him up and down; then spat on the floor again, and launched into it.

"Who the hell taught you to make speeches? Professor Bigwind at Pompous University, Bombast 101? If I thought you could fight as well as you talk, your offer might actually be tempting."

The vacuous stare returned. Hell, it wasn't nearly as much fun scoring off someone too stupid to appreciate your wit.

A murmur of laughter ran through the crowd behind me, though. Odin might not get it; but the Einherjar did. Odin's face and neck began to turn red under all that hair. A little slow, our boy, but not entirely dim. Maybe he was just getting senile?

I added with a drawl, "You realize, of course, getting killed isn't in my game plan. I came here to kill you . Tell you what: I'll fight you. And if you can kill me, I'll join up with the boys. If you can't, or if I strike a killing blow-"

He interrupted me with a snort. "You know well enough you cannot kill me. Fenrir is fated to bring my death; not you, nor any otherman ." There was worry in his eye, though, and his bravado didn't dispel it.

"-or," I went on, as if he hadn't spoken, "one that wouldbe a killing blow if you were an ordinary man like me, then the fight ends, and I win."

"Your point, mortal?" he asked testily.

"Just that. I win; you lose. I'm free to go my merry way-and you will step down forever as head of the gods and general of the armies of the Einherjar."

Odin gaped. Even Rangrid gasped. A low mutter spread through the hall as dead warriors passed along my challenge. The only thing Odin seemed capable of was sputtering.

I nudged a little harder.

"What's wrong? It's just a sporting little bet, between rivals. A minute ago, you were all set to tear my living heart out and eat it for lunch. Don't tell me the great Odin's a chickenshit? You'll break my heart."

Rangrid gasped. The muttering became a muted roar. Odin's face went slowly purple, out to the roots of his hair. For a moment I thought I wouldn't have to fight him, because he looked like he was about to have a stroke.

I decided to give it one last shove and twist. I glanced at Rangrid. "Hell's bells, Rangrid, I thought you were just paying me a compliment when you said I was a bigger man than Odin."

She flamed scarlet. I winked. The other valkyrie gasped audibly, and stared. I noted peripherallythat shewasn't staring at my face. As for the Einherjar . . .

Laughter erupted at the front tables and spread in spastic waves. Odin looked dazed for an instant, resembling a hairy, purple, dumbstruck virgin caught with his pants down.

The nearest Einherjar howled and pointed; Odin was losing them, and he knew it.

His mouth worked, and his Adam's apple bobbed convulsively, then his harsh voice rang out across the hall. "It is a fool's bargain! Done!"

I grinned. "Yo, fool, you just made yourself a deal."

Laughter exploded out of control. I thought for an instant Odin would jump me right where I stood.

Rangrid tensed.

Instead, he spat, "Rangrid Shield-Destroyer! Take this . . . this silver-tongued son of Loki to the battlefield!" He stabbed a pointing finger at a distant door, which looked like it was about a mile away.

"I'll be waiting!"

He spun on his heel so fast, both ravens squawked and took flight. He vanished through a side door. A moment later, I heard his voice raised in bellowed curses.

Rangrid looked a little round-eyed as she met my glance. I winked again, and gestured grandly.

"Shall we?"

A slow smile lit her eyes. "You," she said succinctly, her lips twitching uncontrollably, "are a thoroughgoing, unrepentant bastard."

"Oh, without doubt." I grinned. "After you, dear lady."

Rangrid had other ideas, however. She got her sister to lead the way, and chose rear guard herself.

It was probably just as well; the other valkyrie was so white-lipped, she might've been tempted to skewer me, if she'd been presented with a convenient target like my back. I certainly didn't bank on the other valkyries possessing anything like Rangrid's motive for defecting.

They escorted me into the press of crowding Einherjar. A swelling roar gathered as men beat empty flagons on tabletops. I heard shouts of encouragement and last-minute advice. The noise level mounted deafeningly, beating against us with near-physical force, and still we moved down endless lines of tables. When at last we gained the cavernous doorway, the maelstrom of noise died away behind us, and a mad scramble for the best vantage point came in its place.

I blinked and paused for an instant on the threshold.

"What is it?" Rangrid asked tersely.

"Uh . . . nothing," I muttered. Hastily, I strode forward before the Einherjar-jammed into the doorway behind us-could trample our heels. Yesterday, when we'd come in through a different door, we'd ridden up across a broad plain. Beyondthis door were rocky hills, muddy valleys, and twisting, treacherous little gorges with angry white water snarling through stony riverbeds. The size of the Valhall staggered the imagination. Useful for battle training, though . . .

Odin waited atop a barren ridge, seated on Sleipnir. The horse bore the brunt of his temper.

Sleipnir tossed his head fretfully. There was blood in the foam at his muzzle. Odin constantly jerked the bit in his mouth. It was a lousy way to treat a valuable horse. I was a little surprised Sleipnir stood for it.