VII
Five thousand four hundred and thirty seventh cycle of Odin Borsson's reign
Midgard's single moon begins its ascent in the village the mortals call East-of-Ragnar's-Fjord
It is most curious. The mortals cut the throat of a goat last evening, before the feast, and did not even consume the meat. Instead, they presented the carcass to Father. I do not know what they were expecting he needed a dead goat for, if not to eat it.
I pointed this out to Thor, but he was too busy stuffing his cheeks. I swear, he ate nearly ten drumsticks. The sight was utterly revolting. But the mortals cheered and coaxed him to consume even more. They do not possess much in the way of gracious table manners themselves, so I suppose Thor fits right in. They successfully chivvied him into drinking copious amounts of their ale as well, but seemed disappointed when he was not falling over by the close of the feast. If they'd asked, I could have told them their ale is weak enough to nurse babes with back in Asgard.
The mortal caretaker – priest, they call him. A new word I have learned. He lights the fires in the temple and keeps it tidy. He was the one to present the goat to Father. A sacrifice. Another new word, or at least a new context. Apparently, the mortals use it to refer to dead goats. I have not determined why the mortals dislike the little animals so fiercely, though I asked several washerwomen this morn. They only laughed.
It does not seem quite fair. If it were my decision, I would not kill them at all - they do produce a rather tasty cheese.
I shall endeavor to unravel this mystery. Perhaps I may save at least one goat from the needless slaughter.
Loki Odinsson, Prince of Asgard
VIII
Lukas stares up at the temple's brick edifice and wonders why Roseanne insisted he accompany her. When she had first realized he knew nothing of her religious rituals or the pantheon of gods she worshipped, Roseanne had muttered something about secular government and 'how passing strange them foreigners are.' But she had never pressed him to attend her weekly rites. The most he'd learned about her gods had been their names, which she often cursed by and then asked for forgiveness from in the next moment.
He surmises the period of seasonal renewal represented by spring must be a time of spiritual importance. Roseanne had refused to serve him any animal flesh today and then dragged him to this event, along with her three grandchildren.
A large white banner is draped over three tables, proclaiming 'The Thirty-Fifth Annual Mother of Mercy Fish Fry!' Roseanne ushers them forward to the two middle-aged women sitting behind the banner, handling sums of Midgardian currency.
"Hello, Barb! Hello, Phyllis!" she trills.
"Hello, Roseanne!" the women return.
"Hello, Roseanne!" Caroline mimics in a falsely high, nasally tone. The twelve-year-old girl has her arms crossed over her chest, face set in a scowl. She had protested attending this event on the grounds that she is 'still exploring my options and am not sure I want to belong to a church that is essentially a patriarchy.'
Her two younger brothers are a whirlwind around Lukas's feet, tussling and shoving. "Clayton! Connor!" Roseanne snaps. "On your feet and mind your manners! Say hello to Barb and Phyllis."
The boys drag themselves to their feet. Roseanne brushes dirt from their shirts and wipes a smudge from Clayton's broad nose. "Hello, Barb-and-Phyllis," they chorus.
"Aren't y'all just the cutest lil' things?" Barb-and-Phyllis squeal. Connor digs a finger into his nostril and Caroline snorts.
"Do you offer a discount on exorcisms if the subjects are under the age of eighteen?" she asks.
Roseanne clucks her tongue in disapproval. "Caroline, we talked about this."
The girl rolls her brown eyes. "Yeah, yeah, politeness is its own reward. We also talked about how I'm going by Lina now, but I don't hear you remembering that."
"That doesn't even make sense," Clayton complains. "Your name isn't Caro-lina."
"Whatever, snotbucket."
"Don't call me that!"
"Why not? That's your name, isn't it?"
Lukas watches with a grin. Barb-and-Phyllis exchange glances and raise their respective eyebrows. Roseanne hurriedly drops a few green papers on the table and picks up several red strips that she fastens on the children's wrists.
"Have a nice day, now," Roseanne says.
"Make sure to say hi to Father John." Barb-and-Phyllis reply. "God bless y'all." Roseanne sees Lukas hovering and motions to him, coaxing him to step up to the table.
"I'm covering his entry fee too. Go on and grab a wrist band, Lukas." He obliges, picking up one of the red strips, but fumbles with it, not knowing how Roseanne fastened it.
"This is your renter, now, isn't it, Roseanne?" the rather more rotund woman asks. She stands up from her chair and relieves Lukas of the strip, quickly attaching it to his right wrist. He frowns at the band, still not managing to catch how she had fashioned it into a bracelet.
"Yes, ma'am! Lukas here is a real gentleman. Helps me in the garden and round the house, and at the museum. Pickles just adores him." Roseanne beams in his direction.
Lukas feels this is the appropriate moment to be generous. "Would that I could do more," he demurs. "If not for Roseanne's mastery of the art of cooking, I would be reduced once more to a diet of bread and water."
The second woman flutters her hand as if wafting a breeze to her face. "Oh, my! You are a perfect gentleman. And isn't that just the most charmin' accent!"
"Isn't it just, Phyllis?" Roseanne agrees. Truthfully, Lukas is not sure why his accent differs from the local populace. But he has noticed the tendency of the women of this realm to be flustered by it. Not a wholly unpleasant occurrence.
The other woman, who must be Barb, by the process of elimination, winks at him. And there's the disadvantage to the allure of his accent in all her paunchy, overly made-up glory.
"If only all the young fellas round here talked like you," Barb says with a sigh. "Why, I'd spend so much longer in confession."
"Barbara Johnson!" Roseanne gasps with a laugh. The jest passes Lukas by, but he's grasped her intentions.
He takes Barb's hand and bends over, lightly touching his lips to her knuckles. "I'm afraid you'll have to settle for me, dear lady," he returns smoothly. The trio of women giggles and Caroline groans.
Roseanne's granddaughter tugs at their sleeves. Lukas releases Barb's hand and gives the women a smile. "Take care now, Lukas," Phyllis says.
He lets Caroline pull him away to another table laden with roasted, battered fish. Roseanne introduces him to nearly every person in line. At the end is a man in a buttoned shirt, the Midgardian version of court attire, Lukas has found. Not quite formal dress, but more appropriate than his zip-up 'hoodie', as Caroline refers to it.
"Roseanne," he greets warmly.
"Father John! We got lucky with such lovely weather today, didn't we?"
"Ain't that a fact." Father-John extends a hand to Lukas. "Hello there, young man."
"Lukas," Roseanne supplies. He shakes the proffered appendage. He had made a careful study of Midgardian greeting customs before venturing into society. Mostly through the television, though he was beginning to suspect Roseanne's 'soaps' were not quite realistic as she claimed. For one, there seemed altogether too many illegitimate children running about for a fictional town of such trifling size.
"Don't forget the bake sale the fourth graders are puttin' on over near the sweet tea," Father-John reminds them. "God bless, Roseanne. God bless, Lukas."
Lukas tilts his head in puzzlement. "I have done nothing worthy of obtaining your god's personal favor."
"Huh?"
"Excuse him. He's foreign." Roseanne prods him in the side until he moves to a flimsy-looking feasting table where Caroline has planted herself with a book. He turns to Roseanne.
"How do you gain this god's favor? Is there a quest to which his devotees must pledge themselves? I know not what would impress the god of the land of Virginia."
Caroline speaks without taking her eyes from the pages. "It wouldn't take much. Bake a good pecan pie. Catch a catfish that weighs more than forty pounds. Bring down a ten-point buck."
"Have some respect, missy –" Roseanne begins with a frown.
Her granddaughter sighs with an excess of drama. "It's true." She glances at Lukas. "These are people with simple tastes."
Lukas grins at her irreverence. It reminds him much of his own youth and his disdain for Asgardian tradition and courtly ceremonies. No one had ever been able to explain to his satisfaction why those particular traditions must be followed. He could never accept the answer because it has always been this way.
"I shall endeavor to accomplish all three." A smile tugs at Caroline's lips. He wonders if fish are sacred creatures in this mortal religion, or if it is simply the process of capturing them and the consumption of their flesh that are imbued with mystical meaning. The sickly white lump he pokes with his fork does not look particularly sacrosanct.
"Lukas, are we still going to get you a cell phone today?" Caroline asks.
He glances at Roseanne, who nods. "Yes, I do require a phone. There is a chance I will be aiding some colleagues in their research and I would like a method of contacting them."
"I still can't believe you don't already have one." Caroline shakes her head. Lukas had concluded from previous conversations with the twelve-year-old girl that it was very conspicuous not to be outfitted with such a device.
"Can we go now?" Connor whines. "I don't like fish."
"Eat your strawberries and then we'll go," Roseanne compromises.
The next hour and a half finds Lukas having yet another novel experience. He and the three children huddle around a display of cell phones. "I like this one," Caroline points.
"That's pink. Lukas doesn't want a girl phone," Clayton protests.
"Pink isn't just for girls. Don't let the misogynistic propaganda of the majority influence your choices, Clay. They're all old white men who are so out of touch with our generation."
"What's mih-sojah-nissik mean?"
Lukas intervenes before Caroline is able to turn this into a thirty-minute lecture. "It refers to prejudice and hatred against women. It is a philosophy I personally cannot fathom, as I have seen for myself female warriors capable of wielding a glaive or sword as well as a man, if not better, who can easily cut down foes twice their size." He thinks of dark hair, snapping like a silky flag in the wind, a fierce grin that's all teeth, and flashing hazel eyes. Lukas blinks several times and returns his attention to the array of cell phones.
Connor and Clayton's brown eyes are wide. "Whoa."
"Can you teach me how to use a sword?" Caroline asks with slightly disturbing fervor.
"Er… so you want the pink model?" The store's attendant glances between them all with a faintly alarmed expression.
He darts a look at the boys from the corner of his eye. "Yes, please." Caroline grins brightly at him.
"Gramma, I want a pink phone!" Clayton demands, turning to shout over his shoulder.
Roseanne appears bewildered. "You're too young for a cell phone. Ask your mother."
The attendant returns quickly with a small cardboard box. Lukas settles the sum he owes with money he has gained from helping Roseanne manage the museum. Caroline instructs him in the nuances of cell phone usage on the drive back to Roseanne's estate. She promptly saves a string of digits into his contacts under the title 'Lina' with three pink and yellow hearts following her name.
"Here, I'll text you now. Watch how it comes up on your screen." She whips out her own phone and her fingers fly across the illusory board of Midgardian characters. Lukas thanks the Norns he had made it a priority to learn the modern American script when he first arrived.
Allspeak is a brilliant magical intervention, but is only sufficient for the spoken word. He could cast an interpretation enchantment, but he would have to renew the working with every separate document or book. Most Æsir did not bother to listen closely enough to distinguish separate languages from each other; they simply relied on the bland word-for-word translation. Lukas has always had a special talent for picking out meaning and context that is often reliant on the specific choice of vocabulary, even if the terms themselves are unfamiliar. Once he had mastered the basic Midgardian characters and syntax, he could easily compare the written word to the unique cadence and tones he heard when the Allspeak translated speech for him. From there, it was not terribly difficult to become proficient in written American.
His new phone chimes. The flat screen lights up, displaying a message – lol its me Lina sup.
Lukas blinks at her. She rolls her eyes again and points at the first part of her message. "That means 'laugh out loud'. I had to explain it to Gramma too. Basically, you say it when you want the other person to know you think something they said is funny. Or sometimes it's just easier to type that, even if it's not that funny. They won't know you didn't really laugh out loud."
The phone clicks when he slides his finger across the screen. He calls up the board of characters and laboriously taps out a reply.
Caroline holds up her purple phone. The message materializes - hello caroline lol. She giggles and proceeds to introduce him to the intricacies of eh-moh-jees.
He is able to put his new phone to use the very next day. When he arrives to his office in the museum, there is a message waiting from Agent Roberts. Excitement kindles in his chest when he recognizes her voice.
"You must not be in the office yet, Mr. Eld. Sorry to call so early. I thought you might be willing to take a drive up to Washington D.C. this weekend. Your insights on the Tesseract were very helpful, so I thought of you when we received some strange information. We could use your expertise in deciphering it, if you're interested. You'd be compensated for your time, of course. Give me a call back at this number."
Lukas programs the number she gave into his contacts. He now has Caroline's number, the number for the phone that is peculiarly tethered to the wall of Roseanne's kitchen, and the number for the museum all lined up on his screen next to Agent Roberts. Something about the sight brings a warm flush to his cheeks.
He returns her call. "Good morning, Agent Roberts. I'm very intrigued by the message you left…"