"Ur-Greece," said Throttler, "is nothing like it used to be. The vineyards are taking the place over. Little Pan and Bacchus have been very busy. Anyway. It's a negative. I went and checked with Circe first, Medea. She sends her love by the way, and says she could use some more fish and a visit from your cooking Americans. She thanks you very much for the shampoo. And if possible she would like another one of those Landrace pigs. Your John Salinas did improve her stock, but he disappeared after the Krim did."
She looked cross, for a moment. "I had to fly all over to find Prometheus, but the same story. There were a rash of disappearances just after we attacked and conquered Olympus. Then we went to Ur-Egypt."
Bes took over. "Harmakhis was very cooperative. He confirmed the same thing."
"Bes dear," said Throttler, patting her breasts. "Do you think I should get one of those boob-jobs?"
Bes looked at his hands, at her frontage, at his hands. "They say that more than a handful is a waste." He looked at his large hands again. "So, maybe. If you want one."
"Well, I'd look carefully at fur-lined bras if you do," said Cruz. "Because from what we can work out this Norse Ur-Mythworld is as cold as ice, and then some. It's having some kind of three-year winter."
Throttler looked disapproving. "I don't like hiding my assets, and I don't like snow. Has the professor located a 'carrier' for us?"
"Yes," said Cruz. "One of the PSA operatives arrested by Fish and Wildlife. He's agreed in exchange for immunity from prosecution." He started rubbing down a dragon with a lifeboat oar acquired especially for the purpose. "Their scales are looking magnificent, eh?"
He was very proud of the way the two dragons were looking. It had been a tough interview with the officials and zoologists from Fish and Wildlife. But the fact that the two dragons were positively gleaming with a new metallic sheen and good health, and so obviously affectionate and happy, had won the biologists over. Eventually. The park might want them back, but the health and welfare of such irreplaceable creatures had to come first. It was a real tragedy that they could never be bred. Anibal Cruz was just glad that the Fish and Wildlife boys didn't know that Bitar and Smitar were planning on going along with the sphinx on her next venture. He was also planning to go. He had a stepson to fetch home.
His new commanding officer, Lieutenant Evans, put his foot down. "No, Sergeant. You can't. Not this first trip.
"With respect, sir. I can see Mac staying put. But we need a reliable, and uh, experienced soldier along. Throttler and Bes are not used to American military methods, sir. And we can't trust that PSA shit as far as we can throw him."
"I take your point, Sergeant. Also the point about the dragons. Dr. Gunnarsson has pointed out that they'll automatically have respect in a Norse environment whereas Throttler and Bes will have to establish it. But I think they'll do that quite fast. Let them go through. If they succeed in planting the Sphinx image . . . You can go on the next trip. My word on it."
As Cruz had seen Bes in his new down-padded jacket swatting a dragon that fancied his new epaulettes, he had no doubt about that. Bes looked like a short, squat Michelin man on steroids in that outfit. No sane Viking was going to give him too much trouble. And it did make sense. That way the pyramid got a minimum amount of energy. It didn't appear to register Throttler's flights in and out.
So Cruz had to wait, with the rest of the team, while Throttler and Bes went alone with the PSA agent.
"Some man with fake wings and hamstrung legs," said Throttler when they returned.
"Ah. Völund. Or as you might say Wayland," said Dr. Gunnarsson eagerly.
"Wrong way to land, you mean," said Bes. "I need thicker boots, by the way, Cruz. Wrong way to land shouldn't have argued about sky space with us."
Bes hefted Agent Schmitt off Throttler's broad back. Cruz caught the bundle of a man who hung limply in his arms. He was breathing. "He seems to have lost his wits. I had to subdue him, or he'd have had us out of the sky too. This Norse place is full of snow and people with no manners." Bes seemed to relish the idea of teaching them some. "Anyway. It's all set up. Throtsy needs a rest, though, before we fly again."
Throttler nodded. "At least four hours. And I need lots of food."
Three hours and fifty-eight minutes later, Bes and Throttler were ready to go again. Cruz was waiting, with his pack, a composite bow and a jungle knife, being hugged by a crying little boy and a woman with pride and tears on her face.
"I'll bring him back, Medea," said Bes indulgently.
"And my big brother," said Priones.
"Do my best," said Cruz, getting up on Smitar's back.
"Don't you dare chew," said Throttler to Bitar, as the creatures formed a daisy chain, preparing for flight.
"You sure you don't want me along?" asked Mac, looking up at him.
"Yeah. Someone has to keep the army going," said Cruz, knowing what the offer meant, and knowing just how little his buddy wanted to go into the Mythworlds again. "Okay, let's move out."
Cruz found himself airborne above the island of Sævarstad where the newly erected military issue kit-sphinx now stood.
"Hello. What's that?"
It was a dragon in the water, a huge dragon, at least twice the size of Bitar or Smitar. The last time these two had seen a dragon—which had proved to be a shape-shifter and not the real thing—they'd plunged headlong. Now both of them coughed nervously, almost in unison. "Uh, Cruz."
"Yeah?"
"What do we say?" demanded the dragons.
"We don't know how to talk to lady dragons," said Smitar.
"Yeah, you haven't told us about those birds and bees yet," complained Bitar.
"Should we . . . er, go and ask her if she's doing anything Saturday night?" suggested Smitar. "We could go clubbing . . ."
Bitar wrinkled his nose. "But I don't like them after they've been clubbed. Too tender. Maybe we could just give her a florist?"
"Offer to buy her a drink?" asked Smitar. "Candy is dandy but liquor is . . ."
"Let's just fly down and see what happens," said Cruz who really had no idea what pick-up lines worked on dragons. "How do you know she's female? You might want to say 'hello sailor.' "
"She's swimming. Females are aquatic," explained Bitar.
"It figures. Beach romances. Do they wear bikinis?" asked Cruz bemusedly.
"Not as far as I know. Is my crest straight?" asked Smitar nervously.
They were skimming the wave tops in aerobatic elegance now. The female dragon put her head up from the water. "Bitar and Smitar?" she said.
The two dragons ended up crashing into each other and splashing down into the waves, both puce with embarrassment and too tongue-tied to speak.
Cruz stood on Smitar's back. "That's them," he said. "Can I introduce my two suave dragon buddies to you, lovely lady?"
She answered him in Norse.
Beneath him Smitar quivered. "What a voice," he said faintly. "And a Swedish accent too."
"Sweetish? She's pure sugar." Bitar seemed completely besotted by the huge dragon. "I wonder how good my dragonish is?"
"Do you mind taking me to the beach before you start trying?" asked Cruz. He'd have got more response out of a brick wall.