Displaced

Chapter 17

The first god yawned and stretched. "Tell me," he said. "How much longer is this going to go on for? I do have other things that I need to be doing, you know."

His companion looked at him with feigned interest. "Really? Such as?"

The first god hesitated then scowled. "Important things," he said.

"Doubtful," the second god told him dismissively. "Anyway, this is important. I have a lot riding on this bet, you know."

The first reached for his drink. "The only thing you have riding on this bet is bragging rights."

"Yes," the second god agreed, "and that is important."

"Fine," the first agreed with a shrug. "But don't you think they've suffered enough now?

The second god appeared thoughtful for a moment. He tapped the end of a finger on the outside of his drinking horn. "Yes," he admitted. "But remember, I'm not doing this to make them suffer. It just happens to be an unfortunate byproduct of what we are doing with them."

"We? You did this. I just happened to be standing nearby at the time."

"Well, regardless, I am sure that given time they will get used to things as they are, and then..."

"Wait." The first god raised a hand into the air to cut off his words. "What do you mean 'given time'? How much longer do you intend to let this go on for?"

The second god didn't reply immediately, and for a moment it seemed that the question would go unanswered until, finally, he shrugged. "I already told you, that is up to them." he said. "But I am thinking that it will last just long enough for them to start to believe it is forever."

The first god frowned, then took a long gulp of his drink. He dragged the back of a hand over his lips and shook his head disapprovingly. "You are far crueler than I realised," he said.

"No, not at all," the second told him. "If I am proven right, this experience will be a positive one for them. Leaving things as they were would have been cruel. If I can change their fates, they will owe me a debt that they would never be able to repay.

"Except," the first god told him, "that if you succeed, they will never know that their fates have changed, and so they will not know that they owe you anything. If you are expecting sacrifices in thanks, you will be disappointed."

"I am not. I am generous enough to do this for no reward."

The first god shook his head. "You are doing this for bragging rights," he reminded him. "Don't try to fool yourself that you are doing it out of the goodness of your heart as some kind of favour to them. Anyway, you won't be proven right. It is impossible."

The second god shrugged as though unbothered by that. He re-filled both their drinks, and smiled. "We will see," he said.

The first nodded. "I genuinely do have other things that I need to be doing, you know," he said. He picked up his drink. "But I suppose I could stay and watch for a little longer."

Sigurd moved slowly through the house, far more wary of Ivar's legs than he had been before. The pain of the day before had faded, but was still very much present, and he was reluctant to do anything that might return it to yesterday's unbearable levels. Exhaustion dragged at him, partially from the sleepless night, but partially because pain, the unrelenting type with seemingly no end, had the power to sap his energy and leave him unable to muster the enthusiasm to do anything.