EV B2 Chapter 24:

  I struggled to follow along with Jorg's explanation. Despite having spent less time here than I had in an absolute sense, he seemed to have spent more time in Valhalla proper rather than off-world. He knew a lot more about what was happening than I did. I did my best to hide my ignorance because, as much as Jorg and I had in common, the parts of him that most aligned with me weren't ones I'd trust. The traits that meshed with mine were likely what got him into Loki's little club. But I wouldn't exactly call those qualities worthy of faith or respect. Not that they were inherently bad.

  I was still struggling to follow until I realized Jorg was talking about priests and priestesses of other gods—and priests and priestesses of Loki. I couldn't help but interrupt.

  "Wait. So this… Chara Sharon? She's your point of contact for anything related to Loki's order?"

  "Um, yeah," Jorg said, nodding thoughtfully. His expression was calm, but his eyes betrayed a hint of confusion. "Whenever I need to interface with the Cult of the World Eater, yes."

  "Cult of—" I started, but a sudden cough made me turn my head. I looked behind me, but no one was there. Then Loki's voice spoke softly in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

  "That name was supposed to be a joke," the god said. "People took it too seriously, and it stuck. Don't worry about it too much."

  "What?" I said aloud, hoping Loki would explain if he was listening to my conversations—or reading my mind. What the hell is happening? But there was no response.

  Jorg looked at me strangely, tilting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow. "I can see your brand... So… who is your point of contact?"

  I swallowed, realizing for the first time that maybe Loki didn't have avatars running around talking to every warrior—or, I guess, mage. I wasn't sure if the female warriors of Valhalla considered themselves warriors or mages, but I'd stick with "warriors." That worked for me. Perhaps my interactions with Loki were more special than I'd realized. The thought was disturbing and mind-blowing, and it completely shifted my perspective. I didn't have the time or attention to figure that out now.

  Jorg was still staring.

  "Uh-huh," I said, stalling as I took a long pull of my drink. One swallow turned into two. My mind blanked. I couldn't think of a good excuse, but I didn't want to just admit I interfaced with Loki directly.

  "I don't think I'm allowed to say who," I finally said, wishing Loki had given me some kind of cover or excuse.

  Thankfully, there was a bit of a commotion as a bar fight started behind us. Two teams of five were yelling, and a pitcher of beer was poured over someone's head. The proprietor pulled a fucking claymore from behind the counter and screamed at them to take it outside.

  The unarmed warriors froze, some with fists cocked back, and looked at each other before filing out the back door in an orderly manner. Then I heard several yells, shouts, and the unmistakable thumps of fists on flesh. The proprietor slid the claymore back under his counter and went back to cleaning the glass.

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  George and I had turned to see what the commotion was, carefully looking around us to make sure there was still no one nearby who could overhear our low, whispered conversation. No one was paying attention. Thankfully, the distraction had given Jorg a chance to think, and he seemed to have come to his own conclusions.

  Jorg's eyes were wide when he turned back to me. "You must have a personal handler if you don't have more contacts in the cult."

  I suppressed a frown. "Um, you could say that."

  He nodded slowly. "No wonder you came so highly recommended for this mission. Apparently, someone very close to the top vouched for you. You're enough of an outsider and such a hidden asset that I guess it makes sense why you wouldn't be interfacing with any public part of the church. I mean, I'm nominally a member of the cult, but I'm not considered close to it. Talking with me, though—should we even be having this conversation out in the open?"

  Jorg hesitated, glancing around as if to ensure no one was eavesdropping, then lowered his voice and asked, "Is this going to blow your cover or something?"

  I shook my head. "No, I don't think it'll be an issue. I'm supposed to interact with everyone. Besides, we knew each other before this, so it's not that weird. And if you're just hiring me for a job as a mercenary, I'm sure I can get it done."

  I had no idea how much of this was true, but I was almost certain I wasn't some secret hidden asset of Loki's. I wasn't a brainwashed assassin for the CIA or anything. For one, I had all my memories—or so I thought. And two, that had never been part of the deal with Loki. If it had been his intention, well, he'd better have made that clear. He had approved this mission, though. I assumed the person "close to the top" who recommended me was Loki himself.

  "Why don't you finish explaining about this priest of Tyr?" I prompted.

  Jorg continued, explaining how their rival faction was growing in strength under one particular leader. This leader's rise caused issues with the rule-bending that the Cult of the World Eater usually got away with. Loki's priests wanted the situation handled. They'd asked for blessings and signs on how to proceed and received the right portents.

  It was still a low-level matter, but if the priest climbed the hierarchy too fast, there wouldn't be enough time to deal with it. They wanted someone to send him back—or demote him into the lower halls—to buy them a few extra months. The implications of what they were planning didn't make much sense to me, but if all they needed was someone who could get in close and leave without suspicion—or court some—then I was willing to help.

  No matter what Jorg thought about me being a super-secret agent, I'd already been the subject of a manhunt once. If I got caught, well, Loki had mentioned I could go off-world again. I wasn't thrilled about playing an assassin, but the knife at my hip was a comfort. No one could see it, but its hilt felt reassuring in my hand.

  After everything was explained, I leaned forward, more intent now, narrowing my eyes as I spoke. My fingers tapped rhythmically against the table as I said, "Okay, so I think I understand what you want. I'm pretty sure I can do it—but it won't be easy."

  Jorg smiled. "Really? You're going to do it?"

  I nodded. "I can do it. But like I said, it won't be easy—and it won't be cheap. What's your best offer?"

  Jorg leaned back in his chair, the faint smile on his face turning calculating. He folded his arms, and for a moment, I could see him weighing his response, deciding just how much information and leverage he was willing to share.

  "Let's get one thing straight," he said finally, voice low. "We didn't pick you because you're new and therefore cheap. You come highly recommended... However, that doesn't change the fact that you have no real history in this line of work."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Flattery isn't a currency, Jorg. And don't try to soften the lowball you were about to feed me. What's your actual offer?"

  Despite my interest and the nudges from Loki, I didn't actually need to do this. It was a choice. I could just walk away. That was the best place to negotiate. I just needed to make that clear, and I should have a lot more leverage.

  He chuckled. "Fine. Straight to the point."