"Queen Frigga," Heimdall greeted her, turning his golden eyes back out on his post, to look over the stars, the swirling galaxies, the Void.

She drew up beside him, her long skirts soft and rustling against her legs. "How fare the Realms, Gatekeeper?"

"As well as might be expected, my Queen."

She allowed herself a thin smile.

"Have you a task for me, my Lady?" he asked, "Or have you come merely to see the stars?"

She turned, sharply, and she faced him. "I have task for you, and I rode here myself for fear that you should not heed me should I send another."

"My Lady?"

"This stone," she held a gem, smooth and milky white in her palm. It was the size of an egg, and it glowed with the fractured light of a fire within it. She held it out to him, "will hold what visions you place within it."

"You would have me hold it?"
"I would have you surveil my sons. I would have it on their return that I might see what it is that they have done."

He bowed his head, "You have my word, my Queen." He bent and extended his hand to her.

Her mouth was tight as she put the stone into his dark palm. She made no effort to gentle her expression. "See to it," she said.