The Wildcard Read online

  "Why does Set want me dead, then?" She’d asked before, and he’d refused to answer, as if it was some immortal state secret. His arms tightened.

  "He sees you as an unnecessary risk"

  "A risk to who?"

  "A risk to us all. You carry a message to our world - but none of us know why, or who is speaking to us through you. If it is some kind of trick, then it means there is a power out there playing with us, as we play with you."

  "So..."

  "So Set thinks it best to shoot the messenger," Baldur ended dryly. "If all this was the result of a simple love triangle..."

  "Two love triangles, technically," Green pointed out acidly.

  "...I would not be with you, here. I would never put you at risk. But as it is, I am all that stands between Set and your destruction."

  She was sick of being saved, Green thought, unreasonably irritated. She was damned if she was going to be Lois Lane to Baldur’s superman - though at least Clark Kent never had an adulterous affair.

  "Great," she said, stony faced. "So your mother’s going to give you an earful about straying, right?"

  "My mother and Zeus-Ra arranged this marriage, and Zeus-Ra loves his daughter above all others. My mother is afraid that Naina will stir up his anger against me, and the punishment will fall not only on me, but on her."

  "And he’s already angry, because you cheated on his daughter with a mortal."

  "And he’s already angry. When the Game ends, the winner will succeed to the High Seat. None of us know who that might be, but as King, Zeus-Ra has much influence both now and after the Game is done. My mother fears that we may lose any power and position that we have. Or worse."

  "In your position…as Zeus’s son in law."

  "As Zeus’s son in law - and as my mother’s son. My mother is one of the Nine, as I said."

  Green elbowed off his enclosing arms.

  “So it all comes down to politics."

  "Not for me. Politics has nothing to do with what I feel for you..."

  “I don’t go out with married men, and I’m not about to start now," she snapped hotly. Like she could compete with a fucking blonde goddess! As if she even wanted to.

  "Green - "

  "Shut up!" She busied herself pulling on her clothes. She didn’t have much - only what had been in the chalet, which Baldur had somehow produced for her out of thin air. For all she knew, they’d turn back into air as soon as she got back to the real world.

  She didn’t want to look at Baldur. If she looked, she might hit him.

  “You do not need to do this. When I return, we can talk – I will answer any question you have, Green.”

  She shook her head. "This isn’t reality, Baldur - this chalet, this...thing that we’re having. This is a fairytale - and you can’t live in a fairytale. Reality is home - and my mum, and dad, and..."

  Tears burnt her eyelids. She rubbed a fist across her eyes, turning away.

  "Just tell me how I get to the nearest train station?"

  Chapter 3

  Frigg paces the length of her garden, shards of ice whipping from her hair.

  "I cannot believe how foolishly you have acted. I told you not to become attached to the girl - and now, Naina is furious, and I cannot blame her. She and Set have spoken to Zeus-Ra, and he is much displeased also on her behalf."

  Baldur watches the tempest of his mother’s anger, his face a stubborn mask.

  "I have done no more than Ishtar, or Naina herself. She has taken Set as a lover, and many more - why then am I forbidden?"

  Icy sleet slaps his face.

  "You ask these questions when you already know the answer. Ishtar and Ares have their own arrangements, and neither care where the other lies. As for Naina, she is the soul-daughter of Zeus-Ra, the apple of his eye. She may do as she likes - but you - you have no such privilege. It is already known that you despise her…"

  "I do not despise her," he cuts in quickly, following her angry transformations, faster than light. "She is a trivial woman, for an immortal, but I do not look down upon her for that. But I do not care for her. She loves nothing but herself."

  Frigg stares into his face with sea-cold eyes.

  "You say you do not despise her - but you neglect her, you refuse to procreate with her -"

  "I have tried. This is not a thing I can control - and now, I would not even attempt it. I do not love her, I will never love her. I did not know what love was until I found the mortal girl, Green - would you have me give that up?"

  She rests, a spent storm, and broods on the disobedience of her offspring.

  Conceiving a child is not just a matter of desire and biology among the immortals. For two immortals to produce a child, there must be a fusing of energy, a fire from which a new being is formed. For all the infidelities of Ares and Ishtar, they have passion enough to spark that fire - and she and Apollo the father of Baldur, for as long as necessary. But you cannot start a fire from wet kindling.

  She understands, too, what it is to love a token. Her own son Hodr, Baldur’s brother, was fathered by a man - who is dead and buried many thousands of years. There can be nothing but sorrow for an immortal in such a union. Not only that, but Hodr is blind and banished, too, for the crime of lifting his hand against an immortal - and now he must make his way on earth, among mortals. He survives well enough - but Frigg wouldn’t wish his fate on anyone. Least of all Baldur.

  Her son’s words are reasonable, then - and also unwise. If Naina and Baldur cannot make a godling, then at least he might refrain from other liaisons. It is all very well for Naina to take lovers, feeding her bottomless pit of vanity - but for Baldur to proclaim love and commitment to a mortal, a mere token - that is a slap in her beautiful face she will not forgive. And if she will not forgive it, neither will Zeus-Ra.

  Zeus-Ra has called Baldur to Council, and she fears for the outcome - angry as she might be, she loves her son. He has been sent into exile once- by a malicious accident - and he can be banished again, if the day goes against him. She considers these things anxiously, sitting silent among the Nine.

  Chapter 4

  While his mother twists her hands in her lap, and the lesser immortals crowd the galleries, Baldur takes his place at the foot of the great stone table, and prepares to be judged. To defy the ruling of the Council and save a mortal from their fate - that is a serious infraction. Since Baldur does not play the Game, he cannot, like Set, be punished with a fine. Frigg wonders if Zeus-Ra will accept a penalty of souls paid on her son’s behalf - if so, she will offer it, with a grateful smile through clenched teeth.

  Set looks complacent, a malicious smile playing about his lips as he lounges by his mother Hera. She is ambivalent - on the one hand she should support her Assigned, Zeus-Ra - and on the other hand, Naina is no child of hers, and not dear to her as Set is.

  Ares is clearly bored, and Ishtar his Assigned casts a sympathetic glance in Baldur’s direction. She knows what it is to desire a mortal, though not to love one. Isis sits waiting, majestic and serene as always: she raises a corner of her mobile mouth in greeting as Baldur catches her grey eye, and examines her steepled fingers.

  Zeus-Ra treads slowly to the Chair, and sits down as if all his bones ache. The weight of years is heavy on his spirit, and his flesh reflects it. He turns his one rheumy, red-rimmed eye to Baldur.

  "You know why you are here."

  Baldur bows his head. Frigg has suggested he try to look humble - but he does not feel like dissembling. He feels like shouting his love from the highest peak, so that all the immortals can’t help but hear it. Still, for his mother’s sake, he makes an effort.

  "It was agreed that no one was to intervene in the choices of the girl who carries the mark - and yet you took her from a death she chose herself. Do you have anything to say in your defence?"

  Baldur shakes his head as the eyes of the Nine turn to him, some quizzical, some commiserative, some abuzz with malicious anticipation. Above the Council, crowding the gallerie
s, the other immortals mutter among themselves. To those starved of entertainment, this is as good as a show.

  "She would have died, and it is important that she live. So I saved her, yes.”

  "Important?" Zeus Ra speaks querulously, pulling at his lower lip with a forefinger. It is a habit he has, despite centuries of nagging by his wife, Hera. "Was it not agreed that she should be subject to the normal risks and accidents of mortality? Did you not witness this agreement?"

  "These were not the normal risks..." Baldur starts hotly, but Hera interposes.

  "She herself chose to die. She was not forced to make that choice, and yet she made it. Twice."

  Baldur closes his mouth. If he accuses Set, he accuses Naina too. He is not as naive as his mother fears. He decides on another strategy.

  "You said yourself that there is a reason for the existence of this mortal, beyond the usual destiny of humans. She bears a message we cannot comprehend. If she dies, the message is lost."

  "But you - you whose task it was to learn about the token and her meaning - you have failed. We still do not know what it signifies or from whom it comes - this cryptic message. Do you think that now, when the Game is almost done, there is any chance that you will yet succeed?" Zeus’Ra’s tone makes it clear that there is no chance at all, in his opinion.

  "I was sent to guard her, not to decode her," Baldur points out calmly. "Still, we know more now than we did before...thanks to my cousin Set." He bows ironically towards Set, a gesture his cousin returns with a sneer. "We know that the girl is a harbinger of destruction, a wildcard whose value can be anything or nothing, depending on the circumstances. We know that the message comes to us from a place beyond Asgard or any world we have the eyes to see - and that we are warned to beware of the Game's end. We know more now than we did when she came into the world."

  Set is on his feet, although Hera his mother lays a restraining hand on his arm.

  "You say we know all this - but how do we know we are not being deceived? It is much more likely that this message is a trick, meant to our harm."

  Ares grunts, wishing that he was in his forge and out of this subtle, slow-paced war of words. He doesn’t like anything he doesn’t understand, and this argument is far beyond his comprehension.

  "It is not a trick," argues Baldur, ignoring Set and speaking only to Zeus-Ra, "But if it were, who is the trickster? It is not a mortal - no mortal speaks our tongue, let alone writes it in scarlet letters on a baby girl. Nor an immortal either - you would know of it, would you not, you or one of the Nine?"

  Zeus-Ra's one eye droops, and he is silent.

  "Then who speaks to us, using the girl as a sign board?"

  Set’s tongue flickers, and the serpent on his skull uncurls lazily and winds its way down to rest by his left ear.

  "Who do you suggest?" Isis speaks out, the voice of reason. "What are you implying, Baldur?"

  "That there is something - or someone - beyond our world who is playing a Game with us, as we are playing a Game with the tokens whose world we rule."

  There was laughter from the gallery, and Zeus-Ra coughed and banged the table with his gavel, carved in the form of a silver raven.

  "We are immortals - gods!" Set's voice drips with scepticism. "We cross all worlds as we please, see all, rule all. We create and we destroy. What fantasy is this - that there is some invisible power beyond us that seeks to intervene in our affairs? A power that none of us has ever seen or heard - or heard tell of? I think not."

  Isis’ clear, cool voice breaks into the indignant hubbub. "Is there another explanation? If there is none, then Baldur’s proposition should at least be considered, by the law of Occam’s Razor. A concept invented by mortals, but useful, nonetheless."

  "There is another explanation." Set looks about him, and up at the faces in the gallery, eager for trouble. He plays to the gallery. "What if one of us has planted the girl as a lure to seed confusion among the gods, and further his own ends? Who would profit from such a thing? There is one among us who has taken an unusual degree of interest in this token, one who does not play the Game, but yet has ambitions to follow Zeus-Ra in the High Seat when," Set lowers his eyes respectfully, "it is vacated. This talk of a mysterious higher power, of the Game's end - and by one who has spent more time among mortals than any of us - it smacks of manipulation. Perhaps even treachery."

  Baldur laughs out loud at the absurdity of the accusation. But Zeus-Ra’s white brows lower over his one eye like fog rolling down into a valley.

  "You laugh - but my son’s suggestion has merit. You have bound yourself to this token, from the day of her birth, as you should have bound yourself to your Assigned. And why? Your mother tells me it is from love - " Zeus-Ra glances up at the gallery, and is rewarded by a titter. "but I doubt it. You have hopes to succeed me? I would not count on it, if I were you."

  Baldur stands impassive while the gallery murmurs in agreement, and the Nine look at one another, surprised at the direction this interrogation is taking. The lesser immortals smell blood in the water. And yet, two thirds of them have made love outside the narrow confines of Assignation. In this system of political unions, it is a common and accepted thing - but to betray Naina is to betray Zeus-Ra, an old man with a blind spot greater than his one eye.

  "I have no wish to succeed you." Unwisely, he makes it sound like a slur - as if the High Seat is not worth the effort. Frigg silently curses her son’s lack of humility.

  "So be it then. You," says Zeus-Ra, his voice rising in a high, hoarse screech as he loses his temper, "have been given a privilege no other god has - to mate with the only child of my soul. And you have thrown this gift back in my face. If you are bound to the token, as Set has said, then go and live with her in her earth-bound world, and see how you like it there!"

  Zeus-Ra has many children. But Naina is his soul-daughter, a child of his own thought. She has no mother, only a father, and though she will not succeed to the High Seat - even Zeus-Ra can see she has no interest or aptitude, and besides, the Seat is bound to pass to the one who wins the Game - her Assigned is in a place of high honour.

  The beautiful, golden young goddess, and the old, almost senile ruler share the same soul, ambitious, grasping, vindictive - but she has none of the wisdom he has learned through the many ages he has lived and fought for power. Still, to reject Naina is to reject the essence of Zeus.

  "I am sorry," Baldur’s expression is deliberately neutral. "Love goes where it will. I intend no insult. If Naina wishes and you agree, let her choose another among the immortals for her Assigned, and let our bond be broken. As for the theory that I somehow created the girl and her mark to sow fear and dissension among you - I deny it. Even if I wished to do such a thing, it would not be in my power."

  Ishtar hides a smile behind her hand. Baldur is right, love cannot be commanded - and so she has told Naina. As for this other proposal, it is impossible. Baldur a schemer, a traitor? Her nephew has many talents, but dissimulation is not one of them, worse luck for him.

  The other immortals push one another aside for a better glimpse of the room: they are waiting for pain, and punishment, and humiliation. The life of an immortal is tedious and only suffering enlivens the long ages.

  Zeus-Ra rises, his hands trembling with rage, and fixes his eye upon the Nine, each in turn.

  "I propose that Baldur be banished to earth, to live as a mortal like his brother Hodr, until the Game ends. Do any of you question my decision?"

  Frigg leaps up to protest.

  "Baldur has spent many centuries on earth already. Do not banish him there again."

  "Do not be foolish, sister. I am not punishing your son, but rewarding him. If he truly loves this mortal, then he will be glad to live with her in her own world. Look on it as a reward. In any case, the Game has only a year to completion - a moment. And then your precious son will be back with you - and his mortal will be a memory, like all the others."

  Frigg’s eyes flash. She cannot think of any
thing worse than to be bound to earth - and will both her sons, now, be banished there? It is not fair.

  "I agree with your decision," says Ishtar unexpectedly. Her brown eyes meet Isis’ grey ones across the stone table, sharing a complicity. Frigg will not like it, but Baldur is better out of this arena, for the present. She has a thought, as yet not fully formed, that her nephew and his mortal girl may be of use on earth, away from the tangled politics of Asgard. Ares shakes his red-bearded head, confused.

  "It is only for a time," he mutters. What is all the fuss about - as Zeus-Ra has said, a moment and the Game will be over, and another begin. "I agree."

  "Wait." Baldur strides up the table to where Zeus-Ra huddles regally in his seat, and leans down to stare boldly into his grandfather's one eye. This uninvited approach is lese majeste, insolence scarcely to be credited. Zeus-Ra glares, outraged. "What of the prophecy - beware the Game’s end? You all know that the Game ends soon - but it must not."

  "Must not? You speak of 'must' and 'must not' to us?" Zeus is almost apoplectic now, and the Council stare at Baldur in shock. He is here to be judged, perhaps reprimanded - but not to lecture the Nine on what they must or must not do.

  But Baldur rushes on, pale and impassioned. Frigg has never seen her son so impetuous. "We cannot just destroy all we have created and begin again - these are living beings, with as much right to life as we have ourselves. But even if we would, the prophecy should give us pause. No one of us knows what will happen when the Game ends - not even you, Zeus-Ra. So it would be wise to do nothing that is irrevocable - even if you have no compassion for these...tokens. Not just wise - it would be right."

  "How dare you speak to me so." Zeus-Ra’s hands grip the arms of the chair in fury. Right? Set has spoken truly - Baldur has spent too long on earth, among mortals, and does not know who or what he is. The gods do not take heed of 'right' or 'wrong' - to those who are all-powerful, nothing is forbidden. "Isis, Ares - escort my grandson out of this hall and see that my judgement is carried out." Frigg rises, protesting. "Daughter, you will remain here. As long as I rule this place, I will not have my authority questioned."