First Impressions
Our assigned apartments were huge by Aesir standards. Had we shifted into our natural forms, they would have been quite cramped, but there was at least enough room for that to be possible. Our hosts had also been thoughtful enough to add a large, stone-lined sauna to the suite for us, which was big enough for all four of us guards in our native shapes, or for Aizerue, the eldest and therefore largest, alone. We gathered in the main sitting room in the humanoid forms we had been wearing and looked at each other for a few moments, then all turned to stare at Scathsa, who stared back blankly for a minute before remembering eir job. E wiggled eir fingers, then consulted a device embedded in eir bracer, and nodded. “Heimdall’s still watching, of course, but there were also three other observation sources, all now blocked,” e confirmed. “And Heimdall can see us, but he can’t hear.”
“As far as we know,” Aizerue added, in the best approximation of our native language that was possible to pronounce without a muzzle. “Best to avoid using their tongue when discussing confidential matters.”
Laharu took off his crested guard helmet, releasing his short fire-red hair to tumble over his shoulders, then stuck out his own tongue, looking down at it cross-eyed. It was a lighter blue than the skin of his face. Like the rest of us, he’d retained the natural narrow, fluted shape of his tongue, which was more than agile enough for any humanoid form of speech. Pulling it back into his mouth with a comical slurp, he remarked, “I don’t think I could use one of their tongues if I tried!” The rest of us snickered, and even Aizerue cracked a smile.
This seemed to break the feeling of stiff formality that we’d fallen into since our arrival. All of us stretched, groaning with relief as we removed various items of restrictive or uncomfortable clothing, and tried to figure out how to relax on the Aesir furniture in our humanoid shapes.
“Well, one of us has to say it,” Daucus said, sprawled across some kind of couch. Hir emerald green eyes stood out amid the orange skin of hir face, matching the short, feathery hair that wisped around hir head as hie glanced around at the rest of us. “What in all the Realms is a Jotun doing on the royal dais of Asgard?”
“I have a guess,” I volunteered. The others listened as I explained my hostage theory, Daucus nodding thoughtful agreement.
“It’s a sound theory, and unless we’re given information to the contrary, we’ll go with it.” Aizerue sighed and leaned back, then winced and leaned forward again, gingerly patting the sculpted mass of eir long, light blue hair. There were sympathetic grimaces all around, but we had agreed when we were grafted with our carefully tailored humanoid forms to keep them on as much as possible while in Asgard, and not to shift out of them for convenience or comfort—especially since we knew there would always be at least one observer—except in the sauna, set aside especially for that purpose.
“But you mustn’t ask, or being it up directly,” Daucus cautioned us. “If this theory is correct, it’s probably a delicate diplomatic situation. They didn’t provide us with that information for a reason, and whatever the reason is, we’ll have to be very careful around the subject.”
“If we can get the information in other ways…” Scathsa said, trailing off suggestively.
Daucus snorted. “Sigyn performed much better in tests of subterfuge than you did. I think you should leave the more subtle information gathering to zir.”
I grinned at Scathsa, twitching my fingers in a clumsy approximation of a friendly wing-flutter. “Yeah, leave the subtlety to me, Stonefoot.” Scathsa, who had scored the lowest of us all in intrigue to earn that nickname, growled and threw a cushion at my head, but e had a wry grin on eir flat, purple humanoid face.
“I’d also guess that the Jotun already thinks favorably of us, for whatever reason,” I mused, stretching out on the floor. “Zie—he—winked at us. Or his illusions did, anyway. That gesture usually means approval and possibly collusion, right?” I looked over at Daucus, who looked back blankly. “You know—the one-eyed blink thing?” I made an exaggerated wink to demonstrate.
“I didn’t see that,” Daucus replied. Looking around, everybody else was shrugging or shaking their heads. “It seems that wink was intended for you alone, Sigyn.”
“A wink can also indicate flirtatious intent,” Malalik added. “For whatever reason, Loki definitely wove that particular illusion so only you could see it.”
I nodded, already building plans and scenarios in my imagination. “I’ll start work on him right away, then. He could be a valuable ally.”
“Or he could be an extremely dangerous enemy.” Aizerue leaned forward, eir piercing ice-blue eyes intent in eir pale face. “Any appearance of friendship could be a ruse, to trick you into giving away information or even trap you in a position to be harmed or killed. We must never forget our history with the ruling family of Asgard, or rely too much on their seemingly innocent intentions.” We all nodded grimly, and there was a long moment of silence.
“We should start preparing for the banquet tonight,” Daucus eventually reminded us, to a chorus of groans. “The guards should eat before leaving—you’ll be expected to continue guarding us through the whole thing, so you won’t be given food or a seat at the table.”
“More standing,” Laharu grumbled, weaving a few strands of aether to soothe the muscles of his unaccustomed plantigrade legs.
Malalik, the midnight-colored leader of our little quartet of guards, looked back over her shoulder at him as she was collecting plates of food from the well-stocked buffet table in our suite. “Be thankful you’re not one of the diplomats,” she told him as she handed him a plate. “Trying to eat politely while navigating the politics involved would give me a headache.”
We all peered curiously at the contents of our plates, poking and sniffing each object dubiously, while our ambassadors watched us with faintly amused smiles. Finally, Scathsa picked up a squishy, off-white cube of something and popped it into eir mouth. “At least the food is good,” e said indistinctly. The rest of us began picking at the unfamiliar items, and were pleased to discover that more of them were pleasantly tasty than otherwise. The two elders discussed diplomatic strategy while we ate.
After nearly an hour of getting properly attired again, with much mutual advice and assistance, an Aesir courier and several guards were summoned to guide us to the banquet hall. Armored and inscrutable once more, we followed them to our first dinner in Asgard.