He opened his eyes and saw Thorgil looking quite sappy about it. “Finding Mimir’s Well,” she said. “What a quest!” Even Olaf had a distant expression.

“It does sound wonderful,” King Ivar said with a sigh. “Alas, I can no longer do it. Well, my little troll-flower. Will you give Jack safe passage so your relatives know he’s a guest and not, um, a two-legged deer?”

Frith scowled and made things difficult. They had to flatter her and plead with her. Ivar promised her many presents, and in the end Frith agreed. From her robe she produced a golden chess piece that she’d stolen from her mother. “It’s the queen,” she said. “I hope it spoiled her set. Anyhow, she’ll recognize it. But I want to be sure you return and don’t go sneaking off like a pack of oath-breakers.”

“We’re notoath-breakers,” growled Olaf.

“The troll-pig broke free in the night,” said Frith. “He’s probably halfway to Jotunheim by now, and that means I have no sacrifice for Freya.”

Tough luck,Jack thought.

“I thought about using Cloud Mane,” the queen said, smiling to see Olaf’s dismay. “Then I had a clever idea. This gift of yours, Thorgil, has turned sour. She won’t talk or anything. She’s boring. So I thought, ‘Why not sacrifice Lucy to Freya?’”

“No!” shouted Jack.

“It’s yearssince I gave the goddess a human. Lucy’s a pretty mite, and Freya won’t care if she’s stupid.”

“You can’t do that! I won’t let you!” Jack tried to run to the dais. He fell back as the full force of the queen’s malevolence struck him. He gasped for air. He was surrounded by foul darkness and cold. Only the rune saved him from freezing.

“If you kill him, the quest fails,” Rune said.

The dead darkness went away. Jack opened his eyes and saw that his body was covered with ice crystals that melted even as he looked at them.

“I’ll wait until the harvest festival,” said Frith. “That gives you time to reach Jotunheim, find Mimir’s Well, and return. If you are late—or have slunk off with your tails between your legs—I’ll put Lucy into the sacred cart and throw her into Freya’s Fen myself.”

It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,thought Jack as they returned through the forest. The Bard lost his wits because he gave me the rune of protection. I let Lucy get carried off by Northmen, and I messed up the magic with Frith. If I hadn’t freed Golden Bristles, Lucy wouldn’t be headed for sacrifice. Now I’ve caused everyone to go on this stupid quest to a country where people bite off legs. I’ll never find that well. Or I’ll fall into it and drown.

A shadow loomed overhead and settled on Jack’s shoulder. Bold Heart’s claws were sharp. “Ow! Stop it!” Jack cried. The crow transferred to a nearby bush. Olaf, Rune, and Thorgil halted.

“Maybe he does practice sei?er,” said the giant.

“I toldyou,” Thorgil said.

“Nonsense. He merely talks to animals,” whispered Rune. He’d spoken at length in King Ivar’s court, and now his voice was almost gone. He’d argued for rewards if they returned triumphant from Jotunheim. He had the law on his side and the backing of the priests of Odin and Freya. It was the king’s duty to reward heroism.

If Jack was successful, Rune had argued, he and Lucy should be given their freedom. They should be taken home. “If you want Jack to return, he needs something more than life as a thrall before him.” The queen hadn’t liked this, but she also couldn’t understand why anyone would risk his life for anyone else. The reward—or the “bribe”, as she’d called it—made sense to her.

“I’ve heard dragon’s blood gives you the ability to talk to birds,” Rune whispered now.

“I’ve heard that too,” said Olaf. “Dragon Tongue spoke of a man called Sigurd who killed a dragon. He was putting his sword away when he accidentally pricked his finger and stuck it into his mouth. The finger still had the dragon’s blood on it. Sigurd immediately understood what a pair of larks were saying.”

“I remember that story. Nobody ever accused Sigurd of sei?er,” said Rune.

“And no base thrall ever killed a dragon,” muttered Thorgil as they continued on their way.

Dotti and Lotti were extremely relieved to see Olaf again. They fell on him, hugging and weeping. Even Heide gave him a kiss. “Dear ox-brain! You escaped the wolves!” The wives were not as pleased when they learned about the quest.

“You’ve just come back,” wailed Lotti. “Why do you have to go off after trolls?”

“It’s the king’s orders,” Olaf said, settling Lotti on one knee and Dotti on the other. “We have to find Mimir’s Well so Jack can cure the queen.”

“Who wantsto cure her?” pouted Dotti.

“That’s a verrry good question,” said Heide.

“If we don’t do it, little Lucy gets sacrificed to Freya.” Olaf bounced his junior wives up and down as though they were children playing horsey. They squealed and begged for more.

“It will be a great quest,” Thorgil said, her eyes shining. “We’ll meet trolls and goblins and ogres. We’ll raid the forges of the dwarves for gold. I might even fall gloriously in battle.”

“You are sssooo stupid,” said Heide.

“And Jack will drink song-mead from Mimir’s Well,” whispered Rune. “It’s something I always dreamed of.”

“I expected idiocy from the others, but not you.” Heide threw up her hands and went off to work on her weaving. She had a large loom fastened at an angle to a wall. The warp threads were held taut by stones dangling from the ends, and the weft thread was passed through by hand and tamped into place with a long strip of whalebone. The cloth Heide was making was a beautiful red, yellow, and blue plaid, finer than anything Mother had ever attempted.

Mother,Jack thought sadly. He didn’t know whether she or any of the others were alive. His pathway home lay through Jotunheim, where you met goblins and ogres as easily as you ran into sheep on Father’s farm. He was never going to make it. Never.

Olaf had his long, lean karfipulled out of the water. He caulked the seams with plugs of animal hair and wool. He chipped off barnacles and checked the ropes for signs of wear. Dotti and Lotti repaired holes in the sail. Skakki and Heide took care of provisions. Jack ran around and helped everybody with everything.

They would need only a small crew, for this was no war mission. Six men, including Sven the Vengeful, Eric Pretty-Face, and Eric the Rash, volunteered. At the end of a week they were ready. The dock was crowded with well-wishers, and fishermen aboard small boats cheered as they passed. Before they got out of sight of the village, Bold Heart landed on the deck, cawing loudly.

“I wasn’t trying to leave you behind,” Jack explained. “I only thought the trip was too dangerous for you. We’re going to see trolls and ogres and stuff. It’s not the place for a bird.” For answer, the crow turned his back and deposited a dropping on the deck.

“Stop talking to him. It makes me nervous,” growled Sven the Vengeful.

Thorgil steered them back down the fjord to the open sea, for Jotunheim was not to be reached by land until the last part of the journey. A direct trip over the mountains was far too dangerous for humans, according to Olaf.

“The Sea of Trolls,” murmured Jack as they came out into the gray-green vastness.

“It’s ours now,” said Olaf. “It was theirs when it was covered in ice. Jotuns don’t like deep water, nor do they like sunlight. They were made for ice and winter. Some call them frost giants.”

“So that’s what frost giants are,” said Jack. “The Bard told me they lie in wait for humans, stunning them with their misty breath. He said you could never lie down outside in the dark of winter, no matter how tempting it was. The frost giants would make you sleepy when in fact you’d be freezing to death.”