(Author's Note: In Old Norse poetry and sagas, kennings - or metaphorical compound words/phrases - were used to describe gods, people, animals, places and events in poetic fashion. Sometimes the description has a correlation with mythology, sometimes it's fallen into common usage. "Feast of Eagles" is a kenning meaning "War.")

Amalthea Quint subvocalized through her implant, "Are you finished programming the hyperspace coordinates?" She scowled at the reflection of her round freckled face in the stellar cruiser's window.

"Yes, boss. Programming is complete. Shift will commence as soon as you and that hottiboombalatti of yours are in the cool room," the cruiser's AI answered aloud. 'His' name was Maximus. Amalthea privately thought of him as 'maximum pain in the ass.' His Turing personality was a bit too personal for her tastes.

Most Confederation ships were run by military AIs - high efficiency rated, low on the chit-chat, and as much real character as the average space traffic controller. Max, on the other hand, was full of little quirks that drove Amalthea up the wall. Such as his vocabulary.

"Ease up on the archaic colloquialisms," she ordered, unfolding her two meter length from the command chair. "That's mem Lonyali to you, not hottiboombalatti, sweet cheeks, or any of the other pet names you've been giving her lately." Her partner Fey thought that Max was charming; Amalthea did not.

"Yeah, but she's so hubba-hubba delicata delicious, I'm plotzing." A brief snatch of cloying music, heavy on the violins, issued from the concealed bridge speakers.

"Max!"

"Right-o, boss." The AI's voice was not in the least contrite, but the music ceased. "I'll secure you in the cool room when you're ready."

Amalthea muttered, "Gods of my fathers!" and stomped off the bridge.

The cruiser was a small personal craft - four cabins, a tiny kitchen, an even smaller cleansing/evacuation facility, and the bridge. Cargo space was limited. It had begun life as the toy of a wealthy man who was later convicted of antiquities smuggling. The Confederation confiscated Maximus Lucius, which is how newly appointed judge-advocate Amalthea Quint and her lover, a Tyvesh priest named Fey Lonyali, ended up with it as their personal vehicle.

"Ah, kajalni!" Fey purred as Amalthea came into the room. "Are we ready to go?"

Because of the danger of shift psychosis, all passengers had to be secured during transition. The cool room was a cabin with no windows, small cushions scattered across the floor, and a door that would be locked and sealed. Lights, holo-projectors, speakers and other controls were mounted flush to the walls behind unbreakable nano-lattices. Only when they reached their destination would the women be allowed to exit.

Amalthea smiled, feeling that melting, tingling sensation the raced through her from head to toes whenever she was with her beloved. Kajalni meant 'spirit-flame' in Tyvesh, Fey's homeworld. It was a term used by lovers. "Yes, we're good to go. According to Max's calculations, Yggdrasil is a hop, two skips, a sideways roll and a jump from here. Interdimensionally speaking, of course. About an hour and a half to arrival time."

"One hour, thirty-seven minutes, five point three seconds," the AI corrected smugly. "Oooh, boss, didn't your mother tell you not to make poochie faces? It might freeze that way."

"Kak on a crumpet!" Amalthea grimaced, thought about yanking Max's circuits, and instead settled for shaking a fist in the general direction of a spy-eye on the ceiling. "I swear, I'm going to get that fekkit brat wiped and install a sensible program."

"Oh, he's not that bad," Fey chuckled. "I find him a refreshing change from those frigid military programs."

"Spoken like a woman after my own heart - if I had one, that is," Max replied. Simultaneously, the cool room door slid shut with a hiss. "Hang on to your garters, girls. We are entering primary transition... now."

There was a slight jolt as the ship initiated the first shift. Amalthea rolled her eyes. "I wish you wouldn't egg him on, Fey." She sat down on a cushion, long legs extended in front of her. "He's supposed to run the ship, not entertain us. I think you forget  that Max is an AI, not a person."

"Shame to your lips! According to common law, AIs are sophont citizens, with attendant rights and privileges," Fey said.

"Not bad for someone who's never been through advocacy training," Amalthea said, ducking when Fey threw a cushion at her head. "Hey! I meant it as a compliment."

"Sweet cheeks, watching you in action makes my hardware tingle," Max said to Fey.

"Stop that, or by Odin, I'll take an axe to your logic matrix!" Amalthea subvocalized angrily. Her implant allowed her to communicate directly to the AI, and receive his responses in return.

Max made a rude noise through the speakers.

Fey was a First of First, a martial priest whose people did not believe in intrusive technology. "I believe we had an agreement, Mal. It's impolite to transmit with that thing in your jaw when I'm in the room. It's like talking behind my back."

"You're right. I apologize." Amalthea blew out a breath. Control, control, control... Yggdrasilan natives were bred to be warriors, and justly famed for their tempers. She tried hard to be different. "Max's comments make me a little crazy."

"Are you actually jealous of an AI?" Fey stood up, squatted next to her partner, and laid clawed fingertips gently against her brow. "Are you coming down with an illness? Jongku spotted fever? The purple plague?"

"Very funny." Running a hand through her short-cropped, butter yellow hair, Amalthea gave her a crooked grin. "Okay, so Max is a smart ass, and he acts like a horny teenager trying to impress his girlfriend, and yes, if he was flesh and blood, I'd probably punch his teeth down his throat. Is that jealousy?"

"I think it's sweet," Fey replied, touching Amalthea's smoothly muscled shoulder. They were both wearing knee-length, sleeveless tunics and trousers. The priest's skin was the shade of cinnamon, in contrast to her lover's milk-pale flesh. Fey's black hair was entwined with silver bells that chimed softly whenever she moved, and her eyes were a startling lime green. "Remember the oath we swore at Vashti's fire? Even if Max was human, I could never love him the way I love you. But he isn't, so there's nothing to fear. Agreed?"

"When you put it that way..." Amalthea brushed Fey's mouth with her lips. "Max, privacy mode."

"Awww, nuts!" The AI made another juicy rude noise. Amalthea growled. Max immediately responded, "Right-o, boss. Privacy mode enabled. I'm outta here."

Fey got up and fetched a pair of paper-wrapped sandwiches, along with a virulently pink bottle. "Food fuels the fun," she said lightly.

Amalthea glanced at the holo-label on the bottle and groaned, "Dharma Bum's Tao of Seven Hells Sauce? What next... are you going to start spritzing your meals with toxic waste?"

"My palate is more sophisticated than most sophonts," Fey replied, eyes sparkling mischevously. "On Tyvesh, we know how to spice our food."

"On Tyvesh, you've burned out your taste buds with those firecracker chillis." Amalthea accepted a sandwich and examined the interior. "Yeast cheese, kelp burger and... what's this?" She held up a dripping slice of grayish-green stuff. The acrid odor made her eyes water.

"Meelokulani pickles. My mother gave me a jar as a parting gift. Try it and stop being such a baby." Fey sprayed her sandwich liberally with sauce, closed the lid and took a bite, eyes closing in ecstacy.

Amalthea replaced the pickle and nibbled. She had to admit, it didn't taste half bad.

When she said as much to Fey, the priest snorted. "Told you so."

"Now who's being a baby?" Amalthea began to eat in earnest. She hadn't consumed more than half before Max interrupted her meal.

"Sorry, boss. Admiral Genjuso is on secure data-flash from Advocacy Command. He insists on speaking to you now."

Amalthea thrust the remainder of her sandwich under a cushion and automatically smoothed her hair. She reported directly to Genjuso in her role as judge-advocate. "The kak must be rolling somewhere," she muttered. "Okay, put him through."

Fey did not hold a military commission; she was rated an independent consultant on Amalthea's staff, having transferred out of diplomacy services to be with her lover. She kept eating.

A holo-image of Admiral Genjuso wavered, then snapped into focus about a meter away. A native of Figmo Rusty, he was short, furry and fanged, resembling a peevish teddy bear. The whiskers around his muzzle were bristling. Black-button eyes gleamed. "Commander Quint. Fey Lonyali. Why does trouble cling to you two gankinis like white on rice?"

"Get stuffed, you old svinsak," Fey muttered around a mouthful of sandwich. In Rusty culture, insults and rudeness were the height of decorum. They were speaking the Universal language for Amalthea's benefit. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Naw, your sister," Genjuso replied, waving a stubby paw. His only concession to rank was the glittering, brass-laden hat perched between his upstanding ears. Otherwise, his curly red-gold fur was uncovered. "You broads are beatin' feet to Yggdrasil anyway, so you're gonna earn your pay. We gotta missing artifact - some big juju thing that's making the sword eaters go berserk. I want you to check it out."

"Uh, sir, do we have any idea what's missing?" Amalthea couldn't bring herself to be rude to a superior officer, no matter how many times Fey had told her it was the polite thing to do.

Genjuso crinkled his muzzle in disgust. "When you gonna teach blondie some manners?" he complained to Fey, who shrugged.

"You fallen in love with the sound of your own voice, or just got verbal diarrhea? Answer her so we don't hafta keep staring at your ugly face. It's ruining my appetite." Fey popped the last bite into her mouth, chewed, and winked at Amalthea.

Mollified, the Admiral replied, "Some relic is missing from a church. The forest stompers are kakking themselves over it. Quint, we're keeping a lid on this thing, but word's bound to leak. I don't want mass AWOL from Yggdrasilan regulars, going hysterical and jumping ship to head home 'cause of the crisis. Understand?"

Amalthea's mouth went dry. Oh my sweet gods and goddesses, it can't be... "Sir, is this about the Battle Banner of King Knut? It's been stolen?"

Genjuso consulted an intelli-deck. "Yep. That's the one."

Her heart was pounding. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Amalthea's blue eyes glazed over, and a sudden wave of nausea made her stomach roil. Fey put a hand on her shoulder. "Kajalni, are you unwell?"

"Oh, great... she's gonna hurl." Genjuso pointed a pudgy finger. "Get to Yggdrasil, find out what's happening, and report back to me. Or else there ain't gonna be enough barf bags in the whole Confederation to go around." His image winked out.

Amalthea was breathing deeply through her mouth. Fey glanced around, found nothing nothing useful, and snapped, "Max, I need a deep bowl or bucket now!"

"Sorry, honey bun. No can do. We're shifting, so you can't exit the cool room. If the boss blows, I can activate cleaner 'bots. Will that do?"

"No, it will not." Fey felt helpless, and that made her angry. "Mal is ill. She needs medical attention. Open the door immediately."

Amalthea swallowed, winced and croaked, "He can't. Not in the middle of a shift."

"We'll be exiting a portal in two minutes, thirty-four seconds," the AI said. "Once we drop back into normal space, I can unseal the lock. I'm already configuring a cabin to sickbay mode. Can you hold on, boss?"

"I'm fine."

Fey helped her lay down, visibly fuming. She spat out some vile Tyvesh curses, switching to Uni to add, "...shtupit insane regulations! What if you were seriously injured or dying?"

Amalthea did not answer for a moment. She closed her eyes, willing the dizziness to pass. "Then Max would broadcast a mayday to headquarters, get the coordinates of the nearest medical vessel, and do a mid-shift jump. Dangerous, but permitted for emergencies."

"Are you any better?" Fey had been seriously alarmed by her partner's reaction; her face had gone paler than usual, until the freckles stood out like fresh inkspots.

"Really, I'm okay. It was just the shock of hearing about Knut's banner." Amalthea raised a trembling hand to her brow. "Odin's Empty Eye! I can't believe it. Who'd be crazy enough to do such a thing?"

"Wait until we're halted, then you can tell me all about it."

"No!" Amalthea sat up, clutching Fey's arm for support. "Max, continue your course, do not abort. Acknowledge!"

"You sure, boss?" The AI sounded doubtful.

"I'm sure. Continue to Yggdrasil, maximum acceleration. That's a fekkit order!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, no need to get snarky. Aborting portal exit, continuing to next shift terminal, aye. Put the hammer on the floor, put the pedal to the metal, and kick in the afterburners, yee haw! Arrival now estimated in twenty-one minutes." Max played a calvary charge through his speakers.

Fey's lips quirked. "In Muradeen song-speech, what he just said was very rude."

Amalthea did not react to the joke. Instead, she got up from the floor, despite Fey's protests. "I need to think about this." She began pacing in the small confines of the room. The priest watched her carefully, ready to act if she relapsed.

"I have heard of this banner," Fey said. "Is it not a sacred relic?"

"The most sacred relic on Yggdrasil." Amalthea halted in her tracks, taking a deep breath. "You saw how I reacted. I'm not particularly religious. Many of my people are. Many also serve as soldiers. Imagine what will happen if news of the banner's theft becomes general knowledge."

Fey's spiral cheek scars changed from silver to bright pink as the implication struck. "Vashti's Flame! It would throw the Confederation into chaos."

"Exactly." Amalthea started pacing again. "A court martial is nothing compared to the destruction of Yggdrasil. Everyone from Admiral to ensign would do whatever it took to return home, including out-and-out mutiny. Necessary violence. Open revolt. If Hub-Gov tried to stop it, there would be extreme violence."

"Tell me more." Fey sat back, piling small cushions beneath her back for support. "Why the panic? Why such a strong reaction? I mean no offense, but it seems an out of proportion response to what I'd term petty theft."

"It has to do with Bowswayer's prophecy." Amalthea was not insulted. She knew that her kajalni was proficient in Yggdrasilan customs, but most likely had a smattering of the planet's history. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Not as well as you do." The priest made a gesture. "You're making me dizzy with all that turning. Sit down, please."

Reluctantly, Amalthea lowered herself to the floor. "Centuries ago, when the first colonists arrived on Yggdrasil, they were divided into clans. Family units, each with its own generational ship. There were thirteen of them. Every native can trace their descent from one or more of the original clans."

Fey said nothing to prompt the story, realizing instinctively that any interruption might halt it entirely. She settled down to listen quietly, committing her lover's lesson to memory.

"From their number they elected a king, a warrior-skald named Knut Grimkell, and elected a council with representatives from all the clans. Knut's dearest friend, Bowswayer, was made chief of all his household." Amalthea had no need to concentrate. Every child of her world learned the tale by heart. "For a time, life was good. The colonists thrived. But then there were crop failures, a murrain of cattle, a plague. Some cried out against the king. Knut did what he could. Loki Minnovar - a rival chief who coveted Knut's position - began plotting against the king. Loki was cunning, a seducer who poured poisoned honey into the ears of men who were dissatisfied. Once he had gathered enough allies, Loki declared war."

It was the only war ever fought on Yggdrasilan soil. Brother against brother, sister against sister, every battle claimed its toll. Families were divided - some loyal to their king, others preferring to throw their lot in with the chief who promised to end their troubles. Loki used religion to his advantage, getting tame priests to declare that Knut was unfavored by the gods. In response, Knut re-dedicated himself to Odin. Bowswayer, a mystic of no small talent, caused a special battle banner to be made.

"The Battle Banner of King Knut... it flew at the head of the king's armies, and from that moment, he knew no defeat. Knut eventually met Loki at Mossbeard Ford. The rebel's blood was spilled, but Knut was also mortally wounded. With his last breath, he commanded Bowswayer to press the banner against his wound." Amalthea's face was shining with pride. "Knut promised that so long as the bloodstained banner remained on Yggdrasil, no enemy would ever conquer us. Bowswayer built the king's barrow-mound, and mounted the banner in a shine. Before he died, the mystic prophesied that if ever Knut's standard was lost or stolen, Yggdrasil would perish afterwards in flames and woe."

"And this banner is still in the temple?"

"Oh, yes. Right where Bowswayer put it." Amalthea scowled. "Until some svinsak thief came along. This is very bad. I can't begin to tell you how terrible."

Max made an announcement: "Establishing geosynchronous orbit around Yggdrasil, boss." The cool room doors hissed open. "Shall I open a channel to spaceport at Kevburg, requesting landing instructions?"

"Yes. I'm coming to the bridge." Amalthea got to her feet. Fey put up a hand to stop her. "Put on your uniform, kajalni. You're an officially assigned investigator," she reminded gently.

"You're right." Amalthea turned a worried gaze on her partner. "I just thought of something. My mother doesn't know I'm here. Furthermore, she doesn't know I'm pledged to a crazy Tyvesh priest." Worry turned to panic. "Gods! My mother is going to kak!"

"Surely this can't be worse than than the theft of Knut's banner?" Fey tried to put it in perspective.

Amalthea shuddered. "Oh, valkyrie-sweet... you have no idea!" She started to leave the room, saying over her shoulder, "I'd rather face Loki Minnovar resurrected and the Hosts of Hel than deal with my mother!"

Fey's eyes widened. Then she took her lover's abandoned sandwich and consumed it deliberately, bite by bite. She was a martial priest rather than a seer, but she had a feeling that she would need all her strength for an ordeal ahead.

Gerda Astrid Rannsdottir Quint, premier member of the Blood Hag Social Club, the Founding Mothers Association, and Free-Style Ax Throwing champion ten years running, was waiting at the spaceport. Gerda was taller than Amalthea but just as butter blonde, with cool blue eyes and a creamy complexion unmarred by wrinkles or lines. Imperfections didn't dare invade her skin. She'd have removed them as ruthlessly as she scrubbed all other flaws from her life.

Amalthea approached, trepidation apparent in every step. On the other hand, Fey came forward with every evidence of enjoyment, a huge smile on her face. Gerda greeted her daughter, then eyed the priest and asked, "Who is this?"

"Mooter, this is Fey Lonyali, a Tyvesh First of Fist." Amalthea steeled herself. "We're pledged."

"I see." Gerda's brows rose and she pursed her lips. "Welcome to Yggdrasil, mem Lonyali. Perhaps you have some insight as to why my daughter has avoided coming home for eight years, only to return with a barefoot foreigner in tow? After all the time I've wasted trying to find her a suitable companion."

Fey's grin turned feral. "Perhaps she did not wish to see rude relatives blunting their claws on her kajalni's hide."

Thrust and parry, a point scored by the priest. Having declared war with her opening statement, Gerda retreated behind a mask of icy politeness. "How very droll."

Turning her back on Fey, she continued to Amalthea in a rush, "Well, what brings you here unannounced? Tell me all about it. You couldn't, of course, flash me yourself - I can see that you've been too busy - but Cousin Freida who works in Spaceport Control kindly informed me of your arrival. Are you still dabbling in that advocacy nonsense? You should settle down here. You've done your duty to the Confederation."

Amalthea groaned. "I'm here on an official investigation. No, I can't tell you what it is. I'm sorry I didn't have time to flash you. Yes, I'm still an advocate. In fact, I've been promoted to judge-advocate. I like being an Admiralty officer. I am settling down... with Fey. I love her. We're going to be mate-bonded. Get used to it."

Gerda folded her arms across her chest. "We shall see," she replied through pursed lips.

Fey shook her hairbells, and ostentatiously burnished her claws on the front of her tunic.

Amalthea wanted to beat her skull against a nearby plexisteel wall. "Can I open my veins yet?" she muttered. More loudly, she said, "We have to go to the Primacy's residence. I don't we'll be able to join you for dinner."

"It isn't as if I've had sufficient time to muster a feast," Gerda sniffed. "But you've just come home. Surely you can spare an hour or two for your own family... your own kind." She glared venomously at the Tyvesh priest.

"Not today." Amalthea reached for Fey's upper arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll let you know if my business permits personal visits." Her mother stiffened, about to object. Amalthea kissed her on each cheek, said good-bye, and quickly tugged Fey away from Gerda. They walked through the concourse area in silence for a moment, the taller woman dragging their huge trunk by the handle. It had seemed wasteful for each woman to have her own luggage, so she'd purchased an enormous wood-and-leather wheeled antique on Tyvesh.

"Is your womb-mother always so...?" Fey was unable to complete the question in a way that wouldn't be offensive.

The tall blonde sighed. "You have no idea. I knew Mooter was going to be torqued, but she just jumped in swinging. Gods! Thank you for not killing her. She isn't really as xenophobic as she sounds."

"You could have fooled me," Fey murmured. She found Gerda's attitude amusing. What Vashti brought together, no mooter-in-law could tear asunder. "I will allow her a little leeway. After all, it must be shocking to find out that your daughter has been pledged without your knowledge. Particularly if mem Quint's been harboring secret hopes of her own."

"That's the problem. Mooter is descended from Yggdrasilan nobility - two or three AEthlings, the Eorl of Wyncarl, thegns and so forth. Chieftans by the score. Of course, her side of the family is a distant collateral branch, not directly in the ruling kinship, but that doesn't stop her from putting on airs." Amalthea rolled her blue eyes. "Mooter is convinced that her children are destined for greatness. Nobody is good enough, except maybe the royal brood. A foreigner of dubious lineage - impossible! Excuse me, but that's the way she thinks."

Fey side-stepped to avoid a clutch of jabbering tourists from Banjul. "Gerda is seeking to improve her own condition by advantageously marrying her daughters and sons to high Yggdrasilan society."

"Exactly. One of the many reasons why I left home, and why I stay away. Ah, here it is." Amalthea stopped at booth and spent a minute dickering with the attendant. When she returned, she was carrying a card-key in her free hand. "I rented a hover bike. It's the fastest way to get around Kevburg."

A hover bike? Fey wasn't sure she liked the sound of it. "Is it safe?"

"You have no idea." Amalthea grinned broadly. Now that she'd gotten Gerda out of the way (for now), she was feeling a bit easier. However, there was still the theft of the banner to consider. Her relief faded. In a feast of eagles, every man looks to the gods, went the old saying. Yggdrasilans were quite sophisticated by most sophont's standards, but in each there was each a core of unshakable religious belief. It doesn't really matter if Bowswayer's prophesy is right, and if King Knut's Banner really has the magical ability to protect or destroy my planet. Enough people think it does, and chaos will surely follow.

The hover bike was a marvel of artistic and engineering sensibilities. It was a two-person model in the shape of a black horse, all stylized lines and matte smooth enamel. Instead of reins, a pair of curved handles jutted from the horse's mouth. A cart was attached by tow-lines to the back.

Amalthea heaved their travel trunk into the cart and snapped the bubble lid closed. "You mount here," she said to Fey, pointing to the rear saddle seat, "and be sure the safety harness is secure. I'll drive."

She got the priest settled before climbing into the operator's saddle. Once they were both straddling the bike, Amalthea punched in a destination code on the on-board computer. The bike shuddered, then vibrated smoothly as they rose into the air. Fey clutched her partner's waist. "What happens if the anti-grav generator fails?" she shouted.

"Put your head between your knees..." Amalthea fiddled with the speed control. The hover bike stalled for a second, then shot forward like a bullet. "...and kiss your pretty ass good-bye!" she screamed into the wind whipping past her face.

Fey ducked her head, pressed closer to Amalthea, and hung on grimly. Other bikes, cars, hover shops, buildings and huge tourist floaters whizzed by. It seemed that her lover took great glee in near misses. The priest said not a word in protest. She recited a prayer under her breath until they finally slowed down. Almost gently, Amalthea brought the bike to earth just in front of the Primacy's residence - a church/monastery dedicated to King Knut.

Amalthea had a maniacal smile on her face. She shut down the engine and chuckled. "Fun, eh?"

Fey raised her head. "You have no idea," she replied dryly. One by one, she unhooked her claws from Amalthea's uniform tunic. Fortunately, the fabric was thick, otherwise she'd have left bleeding holes in her lover's sides.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Let me put it this way..." Fey grimaced. "I would rather be devoured from the toes up by carniverous caterpillars than endure such a ride again."

"Ouch!" Amalthea unhooked her harness and swung out of the saddle. "I thought I was a fairly good driver."

"It isn't your driving skills I object to. It's those pesky suicidal tendencies that make my heart leap into my hair." Fey shakily got off the bike. She shook out her clothing, a saffron dyed tunic and trousers combination, and curled her bare toes into the grass. The feeling of solid ground was reassuring. "Who do we see here?"

"I am Primate Cwen," said a male voice. Both women looked around. The chief priest was a giant, over two-and-a-half meters tall, with long ginger hair and light gray eyes. His nose was enormous, a true eagle's beak set among the strong bones of his face. He wore a simple brown robe, tied shut with a gilded belt. "You are Judge-Advocate Amalthea Quint?"

"I am." Amalthea put a hand on her heart and bowed. ""My house, my sword, my shield are yours. May you never lack for ale and bread and salt, and may Odin always turn His blind eye towards your sins."

Fey repeated the gesture and the greeting. Primate Cwen blessed them by dipping his fingers into a vial of oil on his belt, and touching their brows. The oil smelled salty and sweet, like seawater and ripe plums. "You come in good time," he rumbled. His voice was deep and slow. "Admiral Genjuso has told you of our troubles?"

"Only that a certain thing is not where it's supposed to be," Amalthea replied, taking care not to reveal too much information in a public place. Who knew if spy-eyes or listening devices were near? "May we see the shrine?"

"Naturally." With vast dignity, the man led them into the residence. Amalthea had been here before. Every Yggdrasilan made a pilgrimage at least once in their life to Knut's shrine, even if they were born and raised off-world. Fey had only seen holo-images. She found herself staring in fascination.

The outside of the building was rough and inelegant, made of crudely dressed stone and huge timbers. Additions had been made at various times, stuck onto the main structure haphazardly, and in various architectural styles. But the interior! Mural painted walls, gold tile mosaic floors, priceless artworks, fine silk hangings... only the best for King Knut's memorial. They walked through seemingly endless halls and rooms, each more glorious than the last.

Finally, Cwen led them to the innermost shrine, the holy of holies. This room was huge but simply decorated, with a massive domed ceiling supported by a forest of carved ironwood pillars. Plain dark wooden walls, scrubbed stone floor, a slab of gray granite for the altar... not a trace of precious metals or gems. Despite the lack of splendor, there was a brooding power about the place that impressed Fey even more than the expensive treasures she'd seen.

Amalthea breathed deeply. As always, the shrine had a peculiar, musty-tangy smell that reminded her of old blood. Her gaze went to a space on the wall behind the altar. It was here, protected behind a plexisteel grill and shielded by curtains, that the Battle Banner had hung. Nailed to the boards, she recalled, by Bowswayer's own hammer. Now the curtains hung open; the grill had been wrenched apart, and the banner was gone. Only a pale square on the darker wooden wall showed that it had been there at all.

Cwen cleared his throat. "There are no windows, no other means of access other than this door. At night, when the shrine is closed, the door is locked and barred. I have the sole key."

"Forgive me, Primate, but your security seems rather antiquated," Amalthea said. "No laser emitters, spy eyes, programmed cyber-wardens... not even modified animal guards."

"We have always taken great care to protect the banner," Cwen replied stiffly. "Casual vandalism by tourists or misguided off-worlders - that has been our main concern. Who would have thought an Yggdrasilan capable of such infamy?"

"An Yggdrasilan? Do you have a suspect?"

The chief priest nodded dolefully. "We are not as entirely old-fashioned as you seem to think, Judge-Advocate Quint. Every person who visits the residence is marked with a special ultraviolet dye that permits our house security to monitor their whereabouts. At the end of the day, a full scan of the building is performed to ensure all visitors have left." He spread his hands apart. "You see, only a monk could have entered the shrine so late at night and been undetected."

Amalthea was shocked. "Do you mean to suggest...?"

"I fear it is my duty, yes." Cwen bit his lip. "Much as I hate to admit it, the only person who could have stolen the Battle Banner of King Knut is a member of my own monastery."

A bell tolled somewhere in the depths of the building. Amalthea started feeling sick again.

Fey hovered near her partner's elbow while the door opened, admitting a flood of robe-clad monks.

The suspects had arrived.

The forty monks of King Knut's shrine were male and female, all Yggdrasilan. They wore their hair as long as it would grow, parted in the center and bound into plaits; men also braided their beards. Each was dressed a belted robe, but none carried a vial of sacred oil like Cwen. One of the women stepped forward briskly. She was a silver-blonde with small hazel eyes, delicately built in spite of her height. Indigo rune tattoos ran along her jawline and circled each wrist. She alone had a necklace around her throat, heavy gold with a gem-studded pendant in the shape of Yggdrasil itself, the world-tree that gave the planet its name.

Cwen called for her to come closer. "My bondmate, Sigona Heghaim. She is also Volu, a diviner."

On Tyvesh, Eye priests had oracular visions granted by the goddess. Fey knew that Volu used rune-carved stones to poke and pry at the future. She thought it was an inferior system, but held her tongue. One priest to another, she greeted Sigona politely.

Amalthea sketched through a formal greeting, then asked the woman, "Do you have any insights into the theft?"

Sigona made a negative gesture. "All pathways are closed. The Norn-fates reveal nothing."

That's a relief, Amalthea thought. Too often, Volu predictions were couched in such baffling riddles that they could only be figured out after the event they foretold had occurred. She addressed Cwen again. "I assume you've done your own investigation."

"Yes," he said. "Every monk has been accounted for, and all of them have alibis. We sleep two to a room in the monastary. The residence has been searched from top to bottom - every corner, every crevice, every room." He stopped, obviously hesitating.

His bondmate has no such reservations. She looked at Amalthea coolly and said, "Naturally, the search was not successful, because the banner never left this room. It was destroyed."

Amalthea's heart beat faster. "How do you know?"

"Ashes were found on the altar. I believe the thief burned it." Sigona's eyes were hooded. "Cwen disagrees."

"A sample is being analyzed by an outside laboratory," Cwen said. "In the meantime, I deemed it prudent to assume the banner is still intact, hidden somewhere in the building."

"No one has entered or left the residence since the theft was discovered?" Fey asked.

"We lock the shrine at night, and open it in the morning. As soon as I saw the banner was missing, I raised the alarm. Everyone who was here then is still here now. Sigona is too quick to believe the worst."

"Who knows about the crime?" Amalthea cast a glance at the other monks, all huddled together out of earshot.

"The brothers and sisters, of course. We have no outside staff. I was also obliged to inform Minister Nerton, head of Planetary Security, and Queen Vanadis. It was their decision to request the investigation be handled by a Confederacy judge-advocate." The chief priest gave his bondmate an anguished look. She turned her face away.

"It should be a purely an internal affair," Sigona said. "I think it's a mistake to involve an overly ambitious officer, who may use the situation to her advantage."

Amalthea protested, "I'm Yggdrasilan, too. I want this case solved successfully and the banner returned. There's no other agenda here."

"Oh?" Sigona's brows, carefully plucked into perfect crescents, rose to her hairline. "Don't think your family is unfamiliar to me, mem Quint."

"Don't drop hints, mem Heghaim." Amalthea put her hands on her hips. "Whatever you've got to say, just spit it out."

Cwen flapped his hands. "Please! I'm sure Sigona is not accusing you of any impropriety. We're grateful for your assistance."

"What about your mooter?" Sigona said spitefully, ignoring her bondmate. "That social climbing harpy who would sell her internal organs for a chance to ally herself with Queen and court. Is it coincidence that her daughter has been put in charge of the investigation?"

"I don't know what the fekk you're blabbing about. I received my orders from Admiral Genjuso, not my mooter."

Fey put clawed fingertips delicately on Amalthea's arm. "The theft is not generally known. Your Yggdrasilan queen and her ministers would prefer to keep it that way. Remember, you spoke to me of chaos? The Volu fears that family loyalty will lead you to disclose certain matters to Gerda that should remain secret."

"Gerda Quint would hammer this information into a sword to hold at the Queen's throat," Sigona broke in bluntly. "The Battle Banner has been destroyed. Our only hope is create a duplicate to take the place of the lost original. The fewer who know, the better. Thus will the Primate's honor be restored, and unpleasantness avoided. If she knows all, how can the secret be kept, except to stop Gerda's mouth with undeserved rewards."

"Silence!" Cwen hissed, appalled. "The matter is not to be discussed this way. We will find King Knut's banner. We must!"

Sigona slid a finger along her rune-tattooed jaw - a reminder of her seer's status. "I know it's gone," she insisted quietly. "You'd better open your eyes to necessity, Cwen. Survival must be our priority."

Amalthea's patience was at an end. "My authority comes from the highest levels of the Confederacy. My status is not in question. Nor, I might add, have I said or done anything to deserve your suspicions, mem Heghaim. Whether you like it or not, I'm in charge. Any complaints can be directed to Admiral Genjuso or Queen Vanadis."

"Speech is silver, deeds are gold," Fey quoted. "We will accomplish nothing by bickering and back-stabbing." Her lime-green eyes narrowed as she confronted the Volu. "I might ask why you're so certain the banner is burned, mem Heghaim, and why you seem intent on obstructing this investigation."

Sigona gasped. "You dare!"

"I dare much in the service of right," Fey answered.

"Everyone will be questioned," Amalthea said evenly, "because everyone is a suspect until I decide otherwise. Primate, I'll need a room where I can interview each of the monks - including yourself and your bondmate. This may appear to be a duplication of effort, but I want to hear your stories myself. Fey Lonyali will examine the shrine for forensic evidence."

She stopped, subvocalizing into her implant for a few minutes. When she finished, Amalthea said to Fey, "I'm having Max send over a mobile unit. It's fully equipped. AI will control the unit from the ship. If you need anything from me, Max will send a message."

"May Vashti enflame you to the truth," Fey said. She craned up on tip-toe to whisper near Amalthea's ear, "Don't worry, kajalni. Stay firm and focused on the facts. Whatever happens, I will stand beside you."

Amalthea turned her head in order to give Fey a light kiss on the mouth. "Be careful, valkyrie-sweet."

"I will." She moved away, a smile making her spiral cheek scars disappear.

"I'll begin with you, Primate Cwen," Amalthea said briskly, returning to professional mode. Raising her voice, she continued, "The rest of you will stay together in a monitored room until you're summoned. That means you, too, mem Heghaim."

She stood up straighter, suddenly conscious of her judge-advocate's uniform: dove gray trousers and tunic, with commander's pips on the narrow collar, and loops of braid around the cuffs. The tunic breast was covered in small embroidered patches - Corps service medals and conduct citations, with the occasional bit of twinkling gold.

There was a necessary ritual to perform. She felt a bit nervous and self-conscious, but maintained a rigid demeanor. For the first time in her new career, Amalthea said, "Sophont citizens of Yggdrasil: anything you tell me will be recorded. You are required to answer my questions truthfully and completely. Failure to cooperate will result in detention and possible criminal charges. If any among you are guilty, you are hereby enjoined to confess your guilt and request clemency." She paused, but no one came forward. The monks were clustered together more closely than ever.

"Fine." Amalthea tugged the bottom of her tunic, settling it into place. "Fey Lonyali, do your duty."

The priest had carefully studied her assistant's role. She called, "Hear all! Hear all! Court is convened. Judge-Advocate Amalthea Quint presiding. Primate Cwen, do you issue a charge?"

Cwen closed his eyes, then opened them again. "I accuse person or persons unknown of the deliberate theft of the Battle Banner of King Knut." He raised his right hand towards Amalthea. "Will you judge?"

"I will judge. " Amalthea touched the chief priest's palm with her own to complete the ritual. "The identity of the thief must be determined first; only then can I render judgement. I'll begin with interviews. Until I'm satisfied, no one will leave this building on pain of immediate detention. Repetition of the offense will result in punishment at my discretion. Is this understood?"

There was a general murmur of assent, except from Sigona. She stared at Amalthea, dislike written in every stiffened line of her body.

Amalthea gave Cwen a half-bow. "Lead the way, Primate."

Everyone paced out of the shrine, leaving Fey alone... but not for long.

"Ooooh, sweet cheeks! Long time no see." Max's voice issued from a speaker set in unit's front. Made of smooth-cast material beneath a black liquid polymer sheath, the mobile was an insectoid shape, six telescoping legs set on a fat round body. Max controlled it via a long-range relay. The unit was, in essence, a more moveable version of himself.

"Will you behave?" Fey chided gently.

Max skittered over to crouch next to the priest's leg.  "Alone at last," he crooned.

"I need your help, which means I do not require inappropriate conduct." Fey rapped the body with a knuckle. "Your scientific and analytical skills would be appreciated."

"Aw... all work and no play makes my hottiboombalotti a dull girl." Max straightened his legs to their full length. "But your wish is my command. I've been through all available data on Yggdrasilan religious customs, history, politics, etc. Quite a large file to digest."

"And?"

"To put it simply - the boss is in deep kak if she doesn't come up with the goods. At least she won't be alone, 'cause the whole Confederation will be be right there with her."

"So we must find this banner." Fey began to prowl around the room. "Max, it's been suggested that the banner was burned. Monks cleaned up the ashes, but see what you can find."

Max sent the mobile around the entire space on a spiral search pattern, all sensors working at maximum efficiency. After about two hours, he said, "Got it. Hey, I thought this banner thing was supposed to be ancient." The Tyvesh priest went to see what he had found.

"Several centuries, at least." Fey knelt on the stone floor, rubbing her finger against a soot smear.

"I've done chemical analysis on the sample. There's a heavy spike for trixavarium."

"Trixa-what?" The word was unfamiliar to her.

Max replied with a trace of smugness, "It's a black/dark brown dye originating from Mali, used primarily as a colorfast wood stain. Protective gear must be worn as it causes indelible marks on the user's skin. Only available in the last fifty-six years by common reckoning."

"That's strange. Cwen said he'd sent a sample to a laboratory and was waiting for results."

Max snorted. "If he did, they'd have been able to tell him it was post-Knut in about half a nano-second."

"Misdirection meant for... what?"

"Don't ask me, sugar lump. Motives aren't my thing."

"Go take a look at that grill," Fey ordered. "It seems to have been sliced open by a laser cutter. And tell me what you think about the wall."

"Do I have anything better to do?" Max quipped. He sent the mobile over to the shrine, examining it from every angle. "Laser cutter all right. A small hand-held as opposed to an industrial model. The kind of equipment you'd find in a hobby workshop or repair kit. The edges are clean, no hesitation, but careful to avoid damaging the article underneath. No genetic trace."

"Let's reconstruct the crime." Fey sat down on the floor. "The thief enters this room. He has his tools with him."

"Obviously," Max drawled.

"He goes to the shrine, pulls aside the curtain, and uses a laser cutter on the grill."

"Some kind of prying tool was employed to remove the banner from the wall."

"How was it mounted?"

Max stood up in order to emit a holographic image. A glow formed in the air just beyond the tips of her toes, resolving itself into a three-dimensional model. "The Battle Banner of King Knut," he said. "Actual size."

Fey studied the hologram. The banner was smaller than she'd imagined, less than a meter square. Crimson cloth with a black raven woven into the center, colors somewhat faded with the passage of time. Darker maroon patches showed where Knut's blood had soaked into it, all those centuries ago. Max rotated the image to show the backside. "Mounted on a thin piece of wood, which was in turn nailed to the wall behind the grill. The fastenings were pried out with a blunt tool."

"Why curtains?"

"Although this room has no windows, there are still light sources which damage antique fabrics," the AI explained. "Hence, curtains to shield the relic when it was not on public display."

"That makes sense."

"You bet your luscious patootie, O angel-cheeked wonder." The mobile when Fey aimed a swat at it. "Oooh, baby, I like it rough," he purred.

"I begin to understand why Amalthea wants to pull your logic circuits," she said, shaking her hairbells at him.

Max made a rude noise. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

"At the moment, you're supposed to be a forensic scientist. Did you find anything else on your circuit of the room?" Fey glanced at the ceiling. The dome was almost hidden in shadows.

"Now that you mention it..." Max walked over to a section of wall on the east side. "There are minute amounts of fresh wood dust here." This was close to the place where they'd found the soot. "Also containing trivarium."

Fey got to her feet immediately and rushed to the spot, hairbells jangling wildly. She ran her fingertips along the wall. It was paneled in wooden planks to a height of three meters. The paneling had a black, almost greasy sheen. She could just make out seams, slightly darker than the surrounding material, where the planks were pegged together. An idea struck her. "Access all available data on the Primate's residence, the shrine in particular."

"Accessing complete."

Fey paused, wanting to frame her question properly. "Within the last sixty common years, have there been any incidents causing significant damage to the shrine? Fire, flood, vandalism?"

"There was a fire two years ago," Max said promptly. "A full account is contained in government records. The blaze was small, but it destroyed the entire east wall. Restoration was impossible, so that section was replaced to match existing architecture."

The priest straightened up and clasped her hands above her head in triumph. "Vashti, I give thanks for the clarity of Your flame," she breathed reverently.

Max put a splindly leg on her calf. "Mind clueing me in?" He sounded plaintive.

Fey's smile was blinding. "I know what happened to King Knut's Battle Banner. Now it falls to my kajalni to uncover the thief."

Max sat down in a huff. Although the mobile was incapable of facial expression, his body language was eloquently suggestive of pouting. "Are you going to keep me in suspense?" he wailed.

"You can figure it out yourself," Fey said. "I will give you one hint. A riddle." She grinned again, cheek scars disappearing. "What is the best place to hide something that you do not wish to be found?"

Max immediately set to checking and cross-checking references. A human would have found the task daunting, but he was a top-class AI. After an imperceptible delay, he played a triumphant trumpet solo through the mobile's speakers.

"Exactly." Fey winced. "And will you, by the Goddess, stop blaspheming in Muradeen! That was very rude."

The AI chuckled. "I know."

Fey rolled her eyes. "Put me through to Amalthea on live broadcast. And if you ever say anything like that again, I'll pay for a new personality program myself."

"Spoilsport."

"You have no idea."

Amalthea had begun her interviews with Primate Cwen, using an intelli-deck to make a holo-record of the proceedings. Judge-advocates dealt with both military and civilian legal matters; the banner's disappearance was a mixture of both. Although she had the right to conduct an immediate trial (if the responsible party was identified), Amalthea had already decided to transmit her report and recommendations to the Yggdrasilan High Court rather than exercise her privileges.

Cwen had very little to add to his original statement. Amalthea took him over the events step by step, patiently extracting what information she could. Sigona was next. The Volu radiated hostility, but answered questions in a clipped undertone. As she spoke, Sigona continually drew carved bone runes from a bag. At one point, she showed a rune to Amalthea.

"Thurisaz," she pronounced, tapping the small plaque with a fingernail. "Symbol of betrayal."

"It also stands for the destruction of powers that are hostile to order," Amalthea countered. "I won't tell you again, mem Heghaim. I'm not here to further my career, or advance my mother's fantasies."

Sigona shrugged. "What was it your assistant said? Speech is silver, deeds are gold."

"Then give me a chance to prove myself." Amalthea started when her jaw implant buzzed. "Please excuse me." She subvocalized a command to put the live call through, thinking it was Fey.

"Where are you?" Gerda's voice blared into the judge-advocate's ear. "Your Poppi is waiting to see you at home. So are all your sibs, their wives and husbands, Cousin Snorri, Cousin Ivar, Cousin Ethelreda, Uncle Ottar, Aunt Tity..."

Amalthea interrupted, "I'm working." She was getting seriously annoyed.

"Would you show so much disrespect for your clan? Even though you gave no notice, I've made a feast to welcome you back. Everyone's here... including Freyja Thanopax. Remember dear Freyja? You had quite a crush on her when you two were at university together," Gerda wheedled.

"Mooter, I already told you, I'll visit if and when my duties permit. Now don't disturb me on an official channel again." Amalthea remembered Frejya Thanopax. Vividly, in fact. The last thing she wanted was Gerda's ham-handed matchmaking attempts coming on top of an already stressful situation. "Give the family my apologies."

"What about Frejya? Such a lovely girl. Her blood's impeccable, a very suitable match. She's related to Queen Vanadis on the distaff side..."

Amalthea's last remaining nerve, stretched to the breaking point, finally snapped. "Gerda Astrid Rannsdottir Quint, terminate this line immediately. Do not contact me again. And get this through your fekkit thick skull - Fey and I are pledged. I am going to bond with her. You can either accept that, or lose a daughter forever. End it." The connection went dead, right in the middle of Gerda's outraged squawk.

Sigona was toying with another plaque. It was Ansuz, the rune of inspiration. Negatively, it meant manipulation by others, danger from malign influences. Amalthea snorted. "Too little warning too late," she said. "That was my mooter. Who has fangs out and hair on fire, trying to split me off from Fey."

"And?" The Volu's brows raised.

"I love Fey Lonyali, but if nothing else, I'm a woman of her word." Amalthea raised her hands. "I made a bond-oath. By Odin, I mean to keep it."

Sigona looked at her with a tinge of respect. "So there is honor in you after all."

To answer, Amalthea reached into the Volu's bag and drew out a rune, flipping the bone tablet over on the table. It was Raido, representing one who obtains justice by right means. She was surprised, but hid it behind a grim expression. "Do you trust the gods?"

"Yes." Sigona touched the rune. Her hazel eyes rose to meet Amalthea's gaze. "I am not too proud to admit a mistake, if one exists. Listen then, judge-advocate, and I will tell you all I know."

The tale was no more revealing than Cwen's, but revealed a hidden aspect. Sigona had done a rune casting the evening of the theft, receiving dire warning of an unknown threat. When the banner was stolen and ashes were found in the room, she'd thought King Knut's memorial had been burned.

"Cwen told me to send a sample of the ashes to Mount Wolfsang Royal College. Instead, I threw it away," Sigona admitted. "I believed the gods had given me the truth, and Cwen was blinded by fear. Our monastery is responsible for Knut's Banner, after all. My bondmate could not admit he'd lost such a sacred relic... but I'm not one who harbors false hopes."

"You wanted him to see that the only solution was to substitute a look-alike for the missing banner, before anyone noticed it was gone."

"Yes." Sigona inclined her head. The light in the room turned her silver-gold hair to purest platinum. "I believe in the gods, mem Quint. I'm also a practical person. I don't want my husband imprisoned or torn apart by angry mobs because a scrap of old linen went missing."

Amalthea leaned her elbows on the table between them, steepled her fingers together. "Did you taken Knut's Battle Banner?"

"No, I did not."

They stared levelly at each other for a moment. Finally, Amalthea leaned back. "I believe you. The question remains... who did?"

Before Sigona could answer, the other woman's implant buzzed for attention. Amalthea subvocalized angrily, "This had better be important."

"It is, kajalni."

"Fey! Have you found something?"

"Only the hiding place of the banner."

Amalthea stood up, a clenched fist thrust at the ceiling in jubilation. Her chair fell over with a crash. "Yes!" she cried aloud.

Sigona gasped. "Can it be?"

The butter-blonde shook her head for silence. "Where are you?" she subvocalized again.

"In the shrine. The banner never left it."

Amalthea chewed her bottom lip. "Are you sure? Do you have it in your hands?"

"Not as such, but I could get it. I thought you'd prefer to keep the knowledge to yourself... unless you've discovered the thief."

"Not yet. Tell me how it was hidden."

Fey quickly explained. When she finished, Amalthea felt her heart swelling with respect and admiration for her lover. First things first, however. "Send a data-flash to Queen Vanadis; copy it to Minister Nerton and Admiral Genjuso. Tell them that King Knut's Battle Banner is safe and at the Primacy's residence. I'll do a follow-up report later."

"As you command, thus do I obey."

"And by the way... I love you."

"My mind, body and soul are yours," Fey replied sweetly. "Now find that thief!"

"Yes, mem. End it." Amalthea turned back to Sigona, whose face was pasty white with shock. "Not a word to anyone, not even your bondmate Cwen," she said sternly.

The Volu nodded. Her indigo rune-tattooes seemed black in comparison to her ghostly complexion. "My casting was wrong," she said.

"No, it was correct to a point. Had we not found the banner, there would have been a disaster," Amalthea replied. "Now tell me, mem Heghaim... do you any skilled carpenters in the monastery?"

Sigona was puzzled by the question, but answered it promptly.

"Good." On impulse, Amalthea drew the chamois bag from between Sigona's hands and pulled out another rune plaque.

"Tyr," the Volu said. "Victory will be yours if you act wisely."

"Oh, I don't know about wisely," Amalthea said, "but I always act. There's no further need for questioning. Gather your brothers and sisters together in the shrine. It's time to unveil the past, as opposed to the future."

Still wondering at her meaning, Sigona glided away, the great gold Tree of Life around her neck jingling faintly.

Amalthea surveyed the group of monks. "As you all know, the Battle Banner of King Knut was stolen. Some believed it had been destroyed, and indeed, ashes were found that seem to confirm this."

There was a general muttering. The tall Yggdrasilan held up a hand, and Fey said loudly, "Order! Order!" Silence descended. Max's mobile unit crouched beside her, the barrel of a needle gun protruding from the top of its fat round body.

"This assumption was incorrect," Amalthea continued, "as subsequent analysis has confirmed."

Color drained from Cwen's face, then flooded back again strongly; the crimson hue clashed alarmingly with his ginger hair. "Thank Odin All-Father, Freya and Frigg!"

"Thank all the gods, but especially thank Vashti," Amalthea said.

"Who?" The chief priest frowned.

The Yggdrasilan woman put a hand on her partner's shoulder. "Vashti, the Illuminating Flame... a Tyvesh goddess of immense wisdom and penetrating insight. You were correct, Primate. The banner never left the residence. Indeed, it never left this room."

Sigona's fingers were locked around her bond-mate's upper arm. "How is that possible?"

"By a clever bit of misdirection." Amalthea walked over to the eastern wall. "What is the best place to hid something that you don't want to be found?" She made a fist and tapped a section of the wall. "The answer is... in plain sight."

Fey gave her a pry bar, taken from the residence's wood working shop. The taller woman shoved the blunt end into the seam between two panels, working it back and forth. The panel came loose from the wall with a loud crack. Amalthea carefully pulled it away and turned the meter length of wood over.

Cwen burst into tears. "The Battle Banner!"

"Yes." Amalthea could hardly contain her awe. The most sacred relic of her homeworld was there, cradled carefully in her hands. "King Knut's legacy, preserved by Bowswayer." Her face darkened. "Stolen by a person without morals or honor."

"I do not think the thief meant to cause an intergalactic disaster," Fey said. "He probably never considered the larger implications. Although this relic is priceless by Yggdrasilan standards, it would have a monetary value to specialist collectors."

"I'm sure that'll be considered at his trial," Amalthea remarked dryly. She gave the banner to Cwen, who clutched it to his chest protectively. "Here's how it was done. The thief - who has to be one of the monks, as no stranger could have entered at a late hour - came into the shrine. He took the banner from its place, knowing there was no conventional hiding place that would be overlooked in the subsequent search. Being a skilled carpenter, he carefully removed one panel from the eastern wall, which was damaged and replaced two years ago. He put the banner face-down in the hole and fastened it in, using trixavarium dye to stain the back to match the existing wall."

"So the banner vanishes." Fey picked up the thread, watching the monks' faces. "He burned the section he'd removed and left the ashes, hoping that would fool investigators into believing King Knut's relic was destroyed. At a later date, when the danger of discovery passed, he could simply take the banner from its hiding place and leave Yggdrasil."

Amalthea grimaced. "He cleaned up the evidence, but not well enough. Minute traces of wood dust and analysis of the ashes told the tale. Now we have only to learn the thief's identity."

Sigona was quivering with fury. She turned to the assembled monks, hazel eyes flashing fire. "Child of no father!" she spat. "Come forward and show yourself, nidhingr! Coward! How dare you put a sword over my bond-mate's head!"

"Oh, yes." Amalthea nodded. "That's another thing the thief never expected - the reaction of the populace when King Knut's banner went missing. Primate Cwen could have been charged with treason. Or lynched on his way to trial. Certainly, there would have been a long period of disorder and anarchy stretching across the Confederation. That isn't going to happen. So once again, as a judge-advocate, I enjoin the responsible party to admit their guilt and request clemency." She tilted her head to one side, waiting.

There was no response. The monks stared back at her, owl-eyed. "Very well," Amalthea sighed. "It happens that we can identity the guilty party. Trixavarium leaves indelible stains on clothing and skin. Everyone line up and show me your hands."

Fey walked up the line, peering at the offered hands. Suddenly, she pounced on a monk, and dug her claws into his shoulder when he struggled. "He is marked!" she called.

"Brother Rannir!" Cwen exclaimed. "There must be a mistake. He's been with us for two years..." His voice trailed off.

Sigona added, "He was one of the carpenters who helped replace the fire-damaged wall. Rannir said he was drawn to the monastic life and wished to join our order."

Fey marched the squealing Rannir closer to Amalthea. She poked him in the chest with a finger. "Why did you do it?"

"Hey, tell your foreigner to ease up," he bawled. "She's drawing blood!" Amalthea ignored him. She grabbed his flailing hands and examined them closely. There were a few black smears, already beginning to fade; she suspected he'd used a chemical cleanser but couldn't eradicate the stains entirely.

"I want a skin sample," she said to the waiting mobile. "Max, analyze it for trixavarium trace." Althougth Rannir struggled, Fey held him firmly so the AI could take a scraping. After a moment, Max said, "Trixavarium detected."

"Why?" Sigona demanded. "Why betray our trust? Why betray your own heritage?"

Rannir said sullenly, "I needed the money. The Primate... he could've just replaced it like you said. Nobody would've known the difference."

"Are you sure you're Yggdrasilan?" Amalthea asked in disbelief. "The Battle Banner of King Knut is sacred."

"What do you take me for?" Rannir looked at his fellow monks until his eyes reached Cwen's, then he flinched. "The banner would never have left the planet. There's a man in Thorshavn..."

"And you will give us his name, I'm sure," a voice said from the doorway. Everyone turned, and immediately got down on one knee - including Fey, whose diplomatic training left her well equipped to deal with royalty. Queen Vanadis, ruler of Yggdrasil, surveyed them with her stony gray eyes, her hair a river of liquid fire pouring down her back. She was flanked by a squad of royal guards.

Amalthea was the first to rise. "Your Majesty."

"Judge-Advocate Quint." Vanadis walked into the room. She was tall, even for an Yggdrasilan, and topped Amalthea by a full head. "I trust you have recovered our kinsman's banner."

"I have." Amalthea motioned to Cwen, who got up and showed the banner to the queen.

She glanced at it and said, "Excellent work." Vanadis' expression was perfectly blank as she turned back to the blonde woman. "What do you intend to do, mem Quint? It is your right to conduct a trial."

"I waive that right," Amalthea replied. She, too, had a neutral expression. "I believe it's best that ser Rannir be tried by the Yggdrasilan High Court. This has ceased to be a Confederation matter."

"I'm glad we're of a similar mind in that respect." Vanadis suddenly smiled. "Now that the banner has been found, a closed trial will be handled internally and discreetly. It's unnecessary for the news to be generally broadcast and create a panic. So I trust we will all keep this affair to ourselves?" She swept the room with an iron gaze. No one was inclined to argue, except Fey.

"With all due respect," the Tyvesh priest said, "how are you going to ensure a fair trial for ser Rannir if the details are kept secret?"

Vanadis raised her brows. "If he cooperates by supplying us with the name of his buyer, the court will offer him a palatable deal. The same applies to the man he mentioned in Thorshavn. If he does not... well, I'll crack that egg when I get to it. If you're still unsure that justice is being done, I invite you to be an official Confederation observer. Will that satisfy?"

Fey nodded, hairbells chiming. "Your offer is proof enough. I have no further objections."

Amalthea hastened to introduce her partner to the queen. "This is Fey Lonyali, a First of Fist, my pledged bond-mate and assistant. She discovered the banner's hiding place."

"You should be proud of such a mate," Vanadis replied while Amalthea blushed. "Wit, intelligence, beauty, courage... all the attributes one desires in a life partner." She momentarily turned her back to the pair while issuing instructions to her guards for Rannir's arrest, then gave them her attention once more. "Now, I wish to reward you both... as a token of gratitude, not a bribe," she said, quirking her lips in a smile.

The Tyvesh priest grinned in return. Max piped up, "Hey, what about me?" and received a knuckle rap from Fey.

Amalthea clenched her teeth together, fighting the urge to drop-kick the mobile into orbit. Suddenly, she was struck by a brilliant idea and forgot her ire altogether. "Your Majesty, there is something you can do for me, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Ask."

"Well..." She explained the situation, and the queen frowned.

"That's all?" Vanadis asked. "Nothing else?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Amalthea waited for a reply.

Vanadis considered. At last, she said, "If it means so much to you, mem Quint, I would be happy to comply."

"You have no idea."

Fey had to cover her mouth with both hands to stifle an attack of giggles.

Sigona muttered in satisfaction, "It's nothing less than she deserves."

Amalthea couldn't agree more. And for once, Max had nothing to say.

Gerda Quint snapped at her bond-mate, "Orm, I wish you'd call your daughter and demand an apology for the way she's treated me."

Orm Quint, a big-boned, sandy-haired man, sighed in his beard. "She's a judge-advocate on business, not vacation. You shouldn't push her so much."

"She is blood of my blood," Gerda insisted. "I carried her for nine months in my own body, when I could have used an incubation womb. But no, I have old-fashioned values. I didn't get a nanny 'bot. I fed her, bathed her, clothed her..."

Drove her fekkit crazy, Orm added silently. His other two daughters were meek creatures, happy to dance attendence on their mother and obey her every whim. Amalthea was a rebel from the start. Orm was fond of his youngest child, but he knew there was more of Gerda than himself in the girl's personality. Probably why they clash like sword and ax all the time, he thought.

"Are you listening to me?" Gerda put her hands on her hips. "Why is she so difficult? There's nothing wrong with Freyja Thanopax. She'd make a perfectly acceptable mate. Why align herself with a foreigner, an off-world barbarian priest with Odin-knows what kind of heathenish ideas and standards. Hah! It will all come to grief. Mark my words, Amalthea will drown  in tears and it'll be no one's fault but her own."

Orm hunched his shoulders and toyed with a horn of ale. "Amalthea is different from our other children. She has to make her own way." That was as far as his defiance went.

"You've always favored her above the rest. By the gods, it was you who spoiled her, indulged her until 'Althea doesn't know her duty to family and clan," Gerda sniffed. "Look at the way she's embarrassed me! I go to the trouble of preparing a welcome feast, even after her behavior at the spaceport. I summon her relatives. And she has the audacity to insult and disconnect me! Is this gratitude? Is this the way she's been taught to follow? What will the ladies at the Blood Hag Social Club think of me?"

Before Orm could think of a reply, the doorchime rang. Gerda threw her hands into the air. "Now what?" She stomped off, muttering.

A few seconds later, a shriek made Orm vault from his chair and race into the entrance hall. He'd been a warrior in his day, and automatically noted the position of every spear, sword and ax that hung upon the walls. To his shock, Queen Vanadis was on the doorstep, looking bemused.

Gerda's face had gone crimson. She gobbled something incoherently, shaking from head to toe. Orm instinctively straightened his tunic, smoothed hair and beard, and stepped to his bond-mate's side. "Welcome to your longhouse, Your Majesty," he said. "How may we serve you?"

"May we come in?" Vanadis asked. She was perched on a ceremonial shield, held aloft by two beefy guards in full panoply of glittering armor, winged helmets and braided mustaches. The queen wore a glorious gown and breastplate, fiery hair in twin braids wound with jeweled threads. The diamond-studded crown of Yggdrasil, massive and golden, rose from her head like a turreted city wall.

Orm moved aside, realized that Gerda was frozen to the spot, and gently pulled her away from the door. "Please do."

By this time, the other relatives had come from various rooms to see what the commotion was about. Upon catching sight of their queen, all the cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings and relations gasped. Amalthea and Fey were right behind Vanadis, with a mobile unit skittering on their heels. It took a moment before anyone realized they were there.

The bearers carefully lowered the shield until Vanadis could step off. "Do I have the honor of addressing the Quint family?" she asked politely.

Prompted by Orm's elbow, a speechless Gerda nodded. Amalthea winked at her father, who nearly choked trying to swallow a laugh. He was as quick-witted as his offspring, and immediately guessed what was up.

"Your Majesty, may I present my mooter, Gerda Astrid Rannsdottir Quint, and my poppi, Orm Quint." Amalthea went through the list of present relatives. One by one, the awe-stricken family came to bow before Queen Vanadis.

When she was through, Vanadis nodded at Gerda. "You are the most fortunate woman on Yggdrasil," she said, reaching out a hand to draw Fey closer to her side. "Mem Lonyali is a paragon, a treasure beyond price. Today, she and your own daughter solved a problem of immense political importance to our world. I envy you, mem Quint."

"You do?" The color in Gerda's cheeks was fading back to normal.

"Yes." Vanadis lowered her voice. "By Odin, I wish I had an un-pledged daughter to offer. Such an alliance would bring untold prestige to my house. You do know that mem Lonyali's family are of the ruling class?" It wasn't a lie, as such. Fey's mother Xan was a First of Wisdom, and therefore possessed a responsible position in Tyvesh government.

Gerda didn't know anything about Tyvesh, but the words 'ruling class' made a huge impression. "Is that so?" She looked at Fey with new eyes. "My daughter never mentioned it."

"Ah, she's being modest." Vanadis had been coached, but she had a good instinct for melodrama. "Nevetheless, we all owe mem Lonyali a debt of gratitude, myself more than any other. Why, without her intervention, the consequences could have been devastating beyond all recovery... but you understand, I cannot speak further on this. Planetary security, of course."

"Of course."

Vanadis produced a gaudy gem-crusted bauble, which she pinned on Fey's tunic front. "Please accept this small token of our affection and thankfulness. You are a hero of the nation, and I'm proud to call you friend."

Fey bowed in acknowledgement. Amalthea also got a medal, to join the others on her uniform. She also received a royal accolade - a kiss on each cheek. While they were formally embracing, Vanadis bent her head to hiss in Amalthea's ear, "Have I laid it on thickly enough?"

Amalthea whispered back: "Yes. Thank you."

"It was worth it, if only to see the strangled-frog expression on your mooter's face." Vanadis released her, turning back to Gerda. "Cherish your daughter and daughter-in-law, mem Quint. They are a credit to your clan."

"I will, Your Majesty." Gerda made a fluttering curtsey.

At a signal, the guards lowered the shield so Vanadis could mount it once more. "Farewell, good people!" she called, waving. They exited, the sun striking sparkling highlights from the queen's hair and jewels. When they had gone, Orm slowly closed the door.

Gerda glanced triumphantly at the gathered relatives, and said to Orm, "I told you that mem Lonyali was something special, didn't I?"

Orm chewed on his beard and choked again. He was turning an alarming shade of magenta.

"'Althea, my child... doing service for the Queen herself! Why didn't you tell me?" Gerda whirled around and clasped her hands beneath her chin. "Oh, the Queen in my own household! Who could have imagined it! The honor, the prestige... none of the other Social ladies can boast that Vanadis visited them personally! She was so gracious. Oh, Orm! Why didn't you get the holo-recorder?"

"I take it there are no further objections to my mate-bond with Fey?" Amalthea asked, going over to pound her father on his back before he collapsed.

"When did I ever object?" Gerda scowled. "Foolish girl! Anyone with sense could tell that mem Lonyali is the perfect partner for you! She's a credit to our clan." She suddenly smiled brilliantly. "We'll have a huge ceremony, of course. And we'll invite Queen Vanadis, and her consort, and the rest of the court. By Odin, it'll be the event of the year!"

"Oh, gods... can I open my veins yet?" Amalthea muttered. Now recovered, Orm patted his daughter's shoulder. "Your mooter's got the bit between her teeth, youngling. I suggest you hang on and endure the ride."

She  kissed her father affectionately. Fey came over to whisper, "That's two ceremonies we'll have to endure. Are you sure you don't want to elope?" There was a mischievous twinkle in her lime-green eyes.

Amalthea enveloped her lover in an embrace. "Valkyrie-sweet, you have no idea."

Fey's laugh was smothered, but clear enough to lift Amalthea's heart.

"Hellooooo," Max called, sending the mobile skittering towards them. "Group hug! I wanna kiss the bride. Gimme some sugar, sweetie pie!"

Amalthea sighed, bent over, scooped up the unit and bussed it vigorously on one of its sensors.

Max waved his skinny legs feebly. "I meant the other bride..." Spitting, spluttering noises came from his throat speaker.

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Amalthea winked at Fey, who dissolved into giggles.

Life was good. No matter what the future held, they would face it together... and that was all that mattered.

THE END

<~~~~~ Return to the Library