Alea spoke up. “It is because he tries to speak as you do.”
“I do that,” Gar admitted. “I thought it a sign of respect.”
“And a slighter chance that we might misunderstand you?” The older woman smiled, but it was only a quirk of the lips. “Speak as you would without such effort.”
“Why, then, this is how I sound,” Gar said, without his imitation Jotunish. “Can you understand me clearly?”
“Aye, but you still do not sound like a Midgarder,” the woman said, “nor even like the woman who accompanies you.”
“That’s because I’m from far away,” Gar said, glibly but truthfully. “I came into Midgard as a friend, and was forced to my knees and enslaved within minutes.”
Alea stared at him in surprise.
“It would seem your companion has not heard of this,” the giant woman said.
Gar shrugged. “There was no reason to tell her. She has troubles enough of her own.”
“But I asked.” The giant nodded. “You must have known nothing of Midgard indeed—or you must be a mighty fool.”
“A fool I am,” Gar returned, “for I believe that giants, Midgarders, and dwarves can learn to live with one another in peace.”
All the giants shouted with laughter, and the sound struck Alea and Gar as a physical sensation.
When she could bring her laughter under control, Riara wiped her eyes and said, “Foolish indeed! We giants might live as friends with the dwarves, but the Midgarders would never cease to attack us both! Don’t mistake me, they would cheerfully enslave all of Nibelheim if they could—but I would not call that living in peace.”
“No, nor would I,” Gar assured her. “Of course, you might choose to enslave them.”
The last chuckles cut off as though by the blow of an axe, and a giant rumbled, “That is not our way.”
“Even if it were, there are too many of them,” Riara said. Gar didn’t look convinced.
But Riara nodded. “You must indeed be from very far away, if you know so little of the Midgarders—and so little of us. Nay, come home with us, wayfarers, for if you insist on going ahead with your folly, you might as well have a night or two under a real roof—and you surely must learn something more about Jotuns.”
Alea stared in amazement, then stepped back and a little behind Gar out of fear.
Gar, though, only looked surprised. “We are honored, good woman—but dare you trust Midgarders among you?”
“Only two of you, and so small?” Riara waved a hand to dismiss the notion. “Be our guests, strangers, and let us show you that giants are not monsters.”
Fear made a taste—like metal on Alea’s tongue, fear made her belly clench, nearly cramp, and she could have screamed with frustration when Gar gave a courtly bow and said, “How good of you to offer—and what a mannerless churl I would be if I declined!, Thank you, thank you a thousand times for your hospitality. We will be very pleased to accept.”
“We will be pleased to have you,” Riara said, smiling. “Come with us, then.”
But Alea seized his upper arm in a grip so hard and unexpected that it made him wince. “How can you feel safe among people so much bigger than yourself?” she hissed.
“I am supremely conceited,” he whispered back. She glared at him, knowing it wasn’t true.
“If you’ll excuse me a minute,” Gar said to the giant woman, “my companion needs a word in private.”
Riara nodded, her face stolid. “Of course. Step aside; we’ll not listen.” And she turned to discuss the event with her friends. One or two glanced at Gar and Alea as they moved a few paces away, but they turned back to the conversation resolutely, determined to honor privacy.
“You may be able to fight a dog pack,” Alea told Gar angrily, “but you can’t fight a whole village full of giants!”
“Oh, I can fight them,” Gar told her. “I’ll lose, but I can fight them. Still, I don’t think I’ll have to. Even if they do become angry with us or try to imprison us, there are always ways to escape.”
Alea scowled, suddenly aware that there was something he wasn’t telling. “How can you be so sure!”
“If I can escape from a Midgarder farm,” Gar told her, “I can escape from a giant’s pen. They’re not even used to trying to keep people in.”
“How do you know that?” she asked suspiciously.
“You heard them yourself—they don’t take slaves,” Gar told her. “Besides, they look to be the kind of people to whom hospitality is sacred. Still, I can understand your reluctance to spend a night among them. I can escort you to a safe hiding place, then go back to follow the giants’ trail to their village.” Alea felt a sudden determination not to show the slightest sign of fear in Gar’s presence. “What you do, I’ll do! But by all the gods, you’d better be right!”
Why on earth should he have given her such a shining look? She could almost have sworn he was proud of her stand! But all he said was, “I chose better than I knew when I asked you to travel with me. Let’s go be good guests to generous hosts, then.”
He turned away, and Alea followed, only a pace or two to the side, wondering why her knees felt weak. It must have been her fear of the giants. She found herself hoping that none of them would find her pretty.
The first sign that they were coming to the village was a dozen giants leveling the earth of the roadway with six-foot-wide rakes, then spreading sand over it, then levering slabs of rock two feet thick and six feet square into place on top. Riara and her party hailed them, and the giants grinned and waved back, then stared at the two guests and clustered around, gesturing and bombarding them with questions. Alea shrank back, she couldn’t help it, but Gar grinned widely and answered every question and asked a number in his turn. He seemed very interested in their system of roadwork, and Alea could have screamed at him in frustration—but she saw his strategy quickly enough; in minutes, the road crew were discussing construction techniques with him, and not the viciousness and prejudices of Midgarders. In fact, they seemed to accept him as an equal, and not even all that much of a stranger.
“How did you manage to make them friends so quickly?” she asked as Riara led their party onward.
“Masons welcome one another everywhere there are people,” Gar told her.
Alea frowned. “I didn’t know you were a mason.”
“Well, not that kind,” Gar admitted, “but I’m interested in everything.” He looked up at the nearest giant. “Where is that road going?”
“Back to Jotunheim,” the big fellow told him. “We’re only a colony, you know, up here in the North Country. Things were getting crowded back home—we could see the smoke of three other villages on the horizon.”
“Yes, definitely time to look for more elbow room,” Gar agreed. “But your colony must be doing very well, if you can spare the time to build a road.”
The giant shrugged. “We enjoy building. When we have an hour or two free, we like to use it to make things of stone.” They had obviously had quite a few hours to lavish on their village. Gar and Alea’s first sight of it was a huge wall twenty-five feet high, and all of stone. It stretched out a quarter mile to either side. She stopped and stared. “Do you call this a village?”
Orla, the young giant woman beside her, shrugged. They had become acquainted while they were walking, and Alea was amazed how quickly Orla had put her at her ease. “There are only a few hundred of us living here—but we do need more room than you…” She stopped abruptly, leaving the word hanging, and Alea had just time enough to realize Orla had kept herself from saying “Midgarders” before the giant woman hurried on. “You would think that, if we’re only half again as tall, we’d need only half as much room—but it isn’t like that, any more than my being half again as tall should mean I’m only half again as wide.” She grinned down at Alea. “I’m more than twice as wide as you, as you can see, and I need four times as much space.”