Dream of Me/Believe in Me

way deserved?
    Slowly, less sure of anything than she had ever been in her life, Cymbra nodded.
    T HERE WERE PROPRIETIES TO BE OBSERVED. PEOPLE expected certain things. Rituals were important, serving as they did to strengthen a community. Wolf reminded himself of that yet again. It didn't help. He was rock hard, his blood throbbed more fiercely than the music, and he burned with a fire that threatened to consume him.
    Cymbra, by contrast, seemed to be enjoying herself. Dragon was being charming, curse him to an eternity of icebound hell. His brother had started in on yet another story; he appeared to have an endless supply of them. Had he not been born to a warrior, no doubt he would have been a skald.
    Wolf had a sudden, unbidden glimpse of his brother as a storyteller, going from holding to holding, keeping alive the great sagas of their people. He wondered for just a moment if Dragon might really have preferred that life.
    As for himself, he had never given any thought but to the life he had. A life of duty and responsibility often harsh, sometimes outright savage. But for all that, a life not without its compensations.
    The most obvious of which sat at his right side, attending to Dragon's tale, her lips slightly parted and her eyes rapt with interest. She looked perfectly content to remain there all night. That impression was confirmed a few minutes later when Dragon concluded his story, or tried to. At once, Cymbra asked, “What was the name of the giant who challenged Odin to race?” Truth be told, she had no particular interest in a story that under other circumstances would have genuinely enthralled her. Indeed, she could think of scarcely anything save the terrible danger to her brother and the equally momentous step she had just taken to try to allay it. But Dragon was unexpectedly kind, reminding her yet again of her own brother and the kindess Hawk had so often shown her. Reminding her, too, of how reluctant she was to submit herself to the man so rightly called Wolf, who now possessed absolute authority over her.
    Dragon smiled at her gently, as though he sensed the direction of her thoughts and sought to soothe them. “Hrungnir, who was foolish enough to believe his steed faster than Odin's own Sleipnir, the most magnificent of stallions.”
    “Surely they must have had many adventures together. Will you tell us of them?”
    “Well, there was the time Odin rescued a warrior named Hadding from his enemies. He wrapped Hadding in a cloak and took him up on the saddle in front of him. As they rode, Hadding peered out from between the folds and saw to his astonishment that they were galloping over the open sea, Sleipnir's hooves pounding the waves just as though they were stone.”
    “Extraordinary,” Cymbra said. “Does Odin make it a habit to rescue warriors?”
    “Those he favors. Those he does not are often favored by Frigg, Odin's wife. These two are generally at odds over something or other.” Dragon cast a quick glance in his brother's direction and grinned broadly. “Of course, that's not unusual in marriages.”
    Wolf waved away the slave attempting to refill his drinking horn. He'd drunk little this night and all but ignored the lavish feast. Neither food nor drink would satisfy the appetite raging within him.
    “I've always thought,” he said, looking hard at Dragon, “that most of Odin and Frigg's problems come from interfering relatives.”
    “And I,” Dragon shot back, “have always thought Odin doesn't appreciate Frigg enough. She is, after all, the most beautiful, most courageous, and most clever of women … of goddesses, that is.” He leaned back in his chair, still smiling, and added, “Maybe she's just too much for him.”
    Cymbra frowned, finding all this talk of gods and goddesses difficult to follow. She gathered that Odin was supreme among the Norse deities, and she had been startled by the story of his death and rebirth with its obvious parallels to her own faith. But it seemed very odd for him to have a wife and for the two of them to have all-too human problems.
    Then, too, she was struck by the exchange between Wolf and Dragon, redolent as it was of unspoken messages. She glanced from one brother to the other. Dragon appeared in high good humor although she felt beneath it the lingering pain of the wound responsible for his limp. She wondered what care he had received and if he would be willing to talk with her about it. But there was little time to think of