Party Circuit
After we returned to our suite, I asked for and gained permission to go out alone and see if I could establish contact with the enigmatic Jotun. The original plan had been to keep our heads down and collect information before making a move, but since Loki was going to such lengths to get my attention, we all agreed that it’d be a waste not to accept the implied invitation.
I selected a loose, flowing tunic and trousers from the collective wardrobe, and Daucus helped me choose the colors and fabrics. Between the two of us, with some advice from Aizerue, we fussed with the clothing for quite a while before settling on its appearance. Those of us whose genders were unknown or unfamiliar to the Aesir had structured our humanoid forms to be as androgynous as possible. The Aesir fashion code called for elaborate, long gowns for females, and either armor or tunics and trousers for males, but we’d documented enough exceptions that I felt reasonably certain the assembled outfit wouldn’t violate the rules too badly in either direction. Besides, I’d chosen bright gold eyes, a shoulder-length mane of iridescent crimson fur, and burnished copper skin for my Aesir guard shape, all of which marked me clearly enough as an alien that any irregularities in my costume would likely be overlooked.
The next trick, of course, was to find my contact. Our embassy had been sent a half-dozen invitations for private gatherings, receptions, and celebrations just on the first night, but there was no way to know which if any of these he’d be at. On the other side, it seemed very likely that he’d be keeping an eye on my movements. I decided to make a leisurely tour through the party circuit and see what happened. If nothing else, I’d be able to pick up a sense of how the populace felt about our people.
Leaving the suite and navigating the halls of the enormous palace wasn’t difficult. As I neared the entrance to the first party, however, my pace began to slow. I couldn’t be a silent warrior here; this situation would call for careful observation, smooth social skills, and a good measure of guile. I found myself wondering if I was really ready to mingle with the Aesir on this level. Perhaps I should have waited a week or so, as we’d originally planned, to gather more information and get a better feel for how these people behaved?
While I hesitated in the hallway, a pair of revelers came out, laughing and leaning on each other, one waving a mug with enough drink still in it to spatter across the nearest wall. They stopped short when they saw me. With the appearance of an audience, my performing instincts and training fell into place. I smiled and half-bowed to the pair. “Good evening, gentle beings,” I said, then strolled past them and into the party.
The room was large, high-arched, and full of Aesir drinking, shouting, jostling each other, and laughing. My entrance was greeted with a moment of silence, quickly followed by a ripple of cheerful greetings and offers of hospitality. Pretending to only have a limited grasp of their language allowed me to eavesdrop on various conversations as I circulated through the room, but I wasn’t learning much I didn’t already know. An hour later, I still had no idea who the host was, or even whether this gathering was taking place in someone’s home or in some kind of public drinking hall. I felt obliged to accept every drink that was pressed into my hands, which meant frequent trips to the washroom to remove and dispose of accumulated toxins. Aesir alcohol is famously strong, and while I had a high tolerance for it in any form, the amount that I was being given would have incapacitated a being twice my normal size. As it was, I didn’t have to feign muddle-headed tipsiness.
After the third party, the tipsiness was turning to drowsiness, and I was more than a little annoyed. I leaned against the wall outside the latest drinking hall and sighed as I consulted my personal guidance pattern to determine the next party to try.
“Worn out so soon? The festivities have only just begun, you know.”
My head snapped up and I blinked at Loki, strolling towards me down the corridor. His outfit seemed only slightly less formal than what he had worn to the ceremony and banquet the night before, though I saw with some regret that he wasn’t wearing his fetching horned helmet. His smile was just shy of a smirk as he approached, hands clasped behind his back.
“It might take me a while to get used to Aesir entertainments,” I said, shutting down the guide pattern and straightening up from the wall. “It’s a bit more—boisterous than I was expecting.”
“You’ve only seen the entertainments of the commoners,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I am glad that I found you, as I’m on my way to a gathering that I suspect will be far more to your tastes. Would you care to accompany me?”
“That sounds delightful.” I smiled and fell into step beside the Jotun.
We left the palace and walked along a broad, open-air avenue, lined with huge statues and graceful trees, stone arches framing the breathtaking night sky. Light fell from enormous torches held aloft by the figures far above, providing plenty of illumination without obscuring the stars and creating the appearance of gently flickering firelight. The overall effect was lovely, although I felt it was somewhat spoiled by the looming, grandiose figures of ancient Aesir heroes.
“Were you trying to get my attention earlier today so you could bring me to this other party?” I asked as we walked. I suppressed a wince at my own bluntness, but I was intoxicated enough that attempting a more subtle approach would probably just end up confusing myself.
Loki chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Although it’s more accurate to say that this party is a result of your response to my unspoken overtures.” I nodded slowly, digesting this information.
“As far as why I am attempting to contact you particularly, rather than one of the diplomats…” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Something bright flickered across his aura, too quickly for me to identify. “You were the one facing me in the throne room. Target of opportunity, as it were.”
“Ah. Fair enough,” I replied, accepting this explanation at face value, although it was obvious that it wasn’t the whole story. I made a mental note to try to tease the real reason out—probably at some later time when I was more alert.
“Speaking of the throne room—you obviously know who I am.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows, but it took me a moment to catch on.
“Sigynazor,” I said, sounding out my name as closely as possible in the Aesir dialect. “But please, call me Sigyn.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sigyn.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure if the distance was really so far, or if he was deliberately taking a longer route.
“May I ask you a—potentially delicate question?” he said.
“Of course,” I responded a bit absently, still trying to figure out where exactly we were.
“What gender are you?”
I stiffened, breaking stride a little, then took a silent deep breath and gathered my composure. I had been warned about this, we’d discussed and rehearsed it thoroughly, but I had been distracted, and perhaps not expecting it so soon. I also felt a tiny bit disappointed in the Jotun, though it was very likely that he hadn’t known better.
“I’ve offended you,” he said, pausing in the shadows beneath an enormous tree. “I apologize, and withdraw the question. Please, forget I asked.”
“No… it’s all right.” I looked at him and made an effort to smile. “Just so you know—we don’t mind talking about our genders or reproduction in general terms at all, but among my people it’s considered incredibly rude to ask a person their gender directly. If a person wants it known, they’ll signal it one way or another, though we wouldn’t expect someone of another species to be able to decode or even notice the signals.”
Loki half-bowed with an open-handed gesture. “I understand, will remember, and will endeavor to discreetly let others know, to avoid future offense.” If we hadn’t been standing in a dimly-lit patch, shaded from the wavering light of the giant torches above, I probably would have missed the flicker of golden curls that spun across his aura as he spoke like faint smoke in a breeze, and dissipated in seconds.
I nodded to him briefly. “Thank you. I use the pronoun set zie-zir—’Zie is over there, I have met zir.’ Perhaps we can… discuss it later, when we’ve gotten to know each other better,” I added, unsure whether he would pick up what would have been a blatantly flirtatious hint to another of my kind. He smiled in response, the colors of his aura flowing rapidly in patterns I didn’t quite know how to decipher. After all the work I’d done to research the Aesir, being unable to read Loki was both frustrating and intriguing.
“Please allow me to clumsily change the subject,” he said, his smile widening to almost a smirk as he gestured to a nearby archway. “We are nearly at our destination.” We walked the rest of the short distance to an unimpressive wooden door in silence.
I had been expecting a blast of the usual noise—cheers, laughter, singing—when the door opened, but instead the first thing I heard was delicate instrumental music. Two Aesir sat on a dais on the far side of the room, playing unfamiliar instruments in a haunting, complicated duet. The rest of the room was occupied with a scattering of young people, sitting or standing, listening to the music or talking quietly. Loki paused in the doorway without speaking, and I took advantage of the opportunity to close my eyes and enjoy the sensory experience. The aetheric currents, the low murmur of the crowd, the smells of food and flowers, the gentle brush of a light breeze, all wove together into an intricate tapestry of sensation as I imprinted the scene on my memory, saving a few minutes of unexpected beauty in Asgard to be recalled and savored again over the course of my long life to come.
The music ended, and there was a wave of light applause as I opened my eyes. The partygoers turned to face us with expressions of pleased anticipation. Stepping forward, Loki gestured across the room. “Good evening, my friends,” he said, and just that easily, he became the focus of the entire gathering. I would have suspected some kind of sensory magic or even mind control, but I could see that he wasn’t manipulating the aether.
“I am pleased to introduce you to Sigyn,” he continued, “a member of the delegation from Nastrond. Sigyn, this unruly rabble is collectively known as the New Constellation.” He half-turned in my direction and added in a theatrical whisper that could clearly be heard across the room, “They wouldn’t let me pick the name.” Far from being offended, there was a ripple of laughter from the crowd, and even some applause.
Loki then led me on to a few more individual introductions. It was interesting to watch these young Aesir nobles competing to catch Loki’s attention, and their almost giddy responses when he spoke to them personally. I wasn’t sure how much of it could be attributed to his lofty position in the ruling court of Asgard, and how much of it was a result of his personal charm. He deposited me in a small group under the care of an Aesir named Ragnar, who was fascinated by the political and social structures of other realms, particularly in the idea of government by elected representation. There was a constant circulation of people in and out of our little half-circle of chairs, but all of them were at least passingly interested in the discussion. Some of zir questions were clumsy and misguided, but others were surprisingly insightful, and at times I had difficulty maintaining the shroud of mystery that we habitually used among outsiders. I had unexpected help from Loki, who always seemed to drift past the conversation just in time to deflect it away from uncomfortable lines of inquiry. Although I couldn’t give him my full attention, I did notice that Loki had made a minor aetheric connection to me that allowed him to listen in on my conversation. Amused, I allowed the link to remain in place.
As the night wore on and the alcohol continued to flow, the conversation became more abstract, then downright silly. We were exchanging and explaining jokes when I felt a gentle pulse of warning from the aetheric assistant-pattern woven around my wrist, reminding me that I would be expected to be on guard duty in the morning and that I needed at least a few hours of sleep.
Even as I began to make fumbling excuses and farewells, Loki appeared at my side. I relaxed and let him do the social work of extracting me from the conversation, and then from the party. A few minutes later, we stood once again on the torchlit avenue. The light, chilly breeze helped clear my mind a little, but I was still more than slightly intoxicated, and the palace looked very far away.
“I don’t suppose you can ride a horse,” Loki said, with an appraising look.
“I do suppose I could,” I replied with tipsy dignity. “I never have, though, and I’d prefer not to try learning tonight.”
He smirked at me. “A boat, then,” he said, taking a trinket from his pocket. He blew into it, producing a piercing whistle, then put the device away. “We shouldn’t have more than a few minutes to wait—less, if the boatman is sufficiently attentive.”
I nodded, then yawned hugely, remembering halfway through that I was supposed to cover my mouth. “Why horses?” I asked.
Loki blinked at me. “Why what?”
“Why do you use horses?” I clarified, leaning against a low wall and trying not to yawn again. “You have skybarges. Wouldn’t they be more efficient?” I didn’t mention teleportation, since it was obvious that the Aesir either didn’t have that technology or chose not to use it casually for whatever reason.
“Hmm… that’s the kind of question that would have delighted the New Constellation,” Loki said. We both looked up as a quiet hum descended from above. The skybarge came to rest alongside us and we stepped aboard. Loki said a few words to its pilot, and then we were gliding through the night sky, the lights of Asgard diminishing and flowing below us.
“Some people from that party we just left would say it’s because our society is stagnating in anachronism,” he said, leaning back on the barge’s padded bench. “When Asgard was created, it was an island of stability in an ocean of war. The foundation of this city is an ancient citadel, and everything that was first built here had to have a strategic reason. In that age, horses were a priceless resource, and they became a symbol of Aesir civilization as we rode them across the realms.”
I nodded. “Yes, but—surely you could have used them as, well, symbols, without having to keep the actual animals?”
Loki laughed. “You think they’re just animals?” he said, in a gently mocking tone. “They may be an archaic affectation, kept mostly for reasons of sentimentality, but we’ve been raising and breeding them for hundreds of thousands of years.”
The skybarge landed on a platform that I recognized as being fairly near our suite. We disembarked, and Loki waved the driver away, then turned back to me. I realized that he was noticeably shorter than the form I was wearing. Between his ancestry as a Frost Giant and the larger-than-life force of his personality, this detail caught me by surprise.
“Aesir horses are nearly as strong as our warriors,” he continued. His tone and stance were casual, but I could see curling tendrils of green in his aura that seemed to reach out towards me and then twine back on themselves, like strands of water weeds in a gentle current. “They regenerate almost as quickly, and are intelligent enough to carry out complex battle maneuvers on their own initiative—as well as decide when to follow orders and when to ignore them.”
“Almost as smart as Aesir?” I teased, but Loki nodded.
“They live for centuries. Those of us fortunate enough to have horses think of them… less as property, and more as companions, even friends.” He paused, and as I tried not to stare at the wisps of his aura swaying towards me, he suddenly smiled. “I hope one day I might take you to meet my friend, Svadilfari.”
“I’d be honored.” I smiled back, then hesitantly reached up to make the Aesir shoulder-patting gesture that indicated friendship. Before I could touch his shoulder, Loki intercepted my hand and gently pulled it aside, pressing the back of it to his lips while keeping eye contact with me.
At the end of a long, eventful day, trying to process large quantities of alcohol while perilously close to exhaustion, I was at a complete loss for a response. I stood frozen, staring at him as my body reacted for me. My heartbeat and respiration rate quickened, blood rushing through my veins. I tried to slow my breathing, and quickly realized that if I did I might actually lose consciousness. My face felt uncomfortably warm.
Loki held my hand still, watching my face, then released me with an enigmatic smile, even while his aura coiled around my hand as if trying to maintain contact. I made an inarticulate noise, still wondering if I was about to pass out.
“Thank you for a delightful evening,” he said, giving me one last half-bow before turning and walking down the corridor without a backwards look.
I stood there for several minutes, until I was reasonably sure I could make it into our suite without falling over. As soon as I entered, Laharu told me rather grumpily that I had won the draw to sleep in the sauna room with Daucus. I immediately stripped off my clothes and stepped into the cozy, steaming warmth. Daucus was already deeply asleep, only twitching hir tailtip once as I transformed into my native shape and then sprawled out alongside hir.
The heat helped me burn the last of the alcohol toxins from my body, and I sighed deeply, then began replaying the events of the evening in my mind. I was expecting to fall asleep while doing so, engraving the memories for later detailed scrutiny. Instead I lay awake, dozing but not quite sleeping, eyes half-closed in the darkness as I inspected the scenes I had witnessed. I lingered over the last few minutes, when Loki had kissed the back of my hand, with particular enjoyment. My quiet, rumbling purr echoed through the chamber, until a combination of ideas snapped together and I reared my head up with an abrupt snort. Daucus’ tailtip twitched again, and I rested my head back down on my forelimbs, but I wasn’t purring any more.
When Loki had asked my gender, I’d assumed it was a lack of understanding on his part. But I knew the descriptions of the forms we were all officially to use in Asgard were in the documents we’d supplied for the embassy long ahead of time, including our preferred genders and pronouns. Not to mention that the dossier we’d sent ahead had specific explanations and instructions about discussing such things diplomatically. It seemed unlikely that Thor would have read the documents, but even without knowing beforehand that he’d be part of the negotiations, it seemed even more unlikely that Loki hadn’t. It still might have been an innocent misunderstanding—but the timing of when he’d asked, just before bringing me into the party, was a factor as well. What better way to ensure I’d be a bit off-kilter right before introducing me to the gathering? He’d surely noticed that I was at least mildly intoxicated, and while he hadn’t brought me any drinks at the party, plenty of others had been happy to keep a full cup in my hands at all times. Had he been hoping that I’d let something slip? Had he, in fact, set up the entire situation to impress me, draw me into the orbit of his charisma with the appearance of informal, reliable friendliness? And then sealing the evening with a kiss on the back of my hand, a gesture that he had to know I would recognize as an Aesir courtship signal?
Looking back over the memory of when he’d asked my gender, I saw again the tracery of golden curls that flickered across his aura. As I examined my memories of the evening, I realized that I’d seen it a few other times as well, though not so clearly. In fact, I’d seen hints of it almost every time he’d moved in to intercept my questioners.
My tail lashed fretfully against the floor as I understood that I’d just learned how to recognize the aetheric representation of guile in a Jotun.
Aizerue had been right, I reflected as I coiled my tail tightly around myself. He was a Frost Giant, but he’d been raised in Asgard, and I couldn’t trust Loki any more than I could any of the other Aesir. He was playing political games with me, just as I was supposed to be doing with him. Though it had happened long before I was hatched, our people’s betrayal by the ruling family of Asgard was the reason we were here—the reason we had gone to war against them, and the reason I could never trust anyone related to Odin Borson, even by adoption.
I reminded myself to debrief my memories of the evening to Aizerue in detail as soon as possible to make sure I hadn’t inadvertently spilled any of our secrets, and see if we could figure out if any of theirs had been revealed. As I began my sleep-inducing meditations, I thought again about the attention-seekers that had clustered around Loki at the party, and resolved myself not to become one of them.