Frigga's langeleik was a bit too large for Loki's hands, but he was used to compensating for that. While it wouldn't have been beyond his reach to have an instrument made to suit him, princes didn't get their own pocket money or the option to arrange transactions discretely. He could have anything he asked for, as long as he was willing to ask, and if Father heard about his interest in one more quiet, effeminate pastime, he suspected he'd find himself consigned to the archery fields for a season just to stamp it out. Sorcery could be tolerated, as it had plenty of application in battle, but as for the scholarly and bardic arts, no one had ever thought to bar them to the princes royal, for what prince would so degrade himself?

So he borrowed his mother's and she fondly turned a blind eye. The queen was as perplexed by her youngest as the rest of the family, but she enjoyed his peculiarities rather than try to stifle them. This morning, she'd left him alone in her chambers to practice while she and a few of her ladies went riding.

Loki wasn't a great musician and would never be one. He lacked an artist's heart and his air was affected, and at his best he was nothing more than technically competent. It didn't bother him. He enjoyed the chance to create something for no one's benefit but his own, the mathematical progression of the notes and the challenge to his often clumsy fingers. Loki lived entirely too much in his own head and the meandering melodies he liked best set him free for a little while.

He bent over the instrument on the desk, comically intense concentration writ on his face. His usually impeccably neat hair hung down and the tip of his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth. Usually he was quite aware of his surroundings, but lost in the rousing war ballad (because even in music he couldn't get away from the pervasive theme of smashing giants), he missed the approach of heavy footsteps.

The door was flung open hard enough to bash against the wardrobe. "Mother? I'm to warn you that Freya will be with the Vanir delegation that... will be arriving... this evening?" Thor, typically enough, didn't think to stop delivering his message as he realized that Frigga was nowhere to be seen, and the music had been coming from a very sheepish looking little brother. "Where's Mother?"

"On a ride," Loki said, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't know yet which way Thor would react, and he was reluctant to start spinning lies before his brother's mind managed to grind its way in one direction or another.

"I didn't know you played, brother." Loki relaxed as Thor leaned against the wall, smiling cheerfully. "Don't stop on my account."

That had the potential to complicate matters. If Thor didn't care, then he'd forget about it in a little while. If he decided there was some value to Loki's music, he might insist on talking about it. The idea of Thor appreciating his performance was a pleasant one, but too risky. "Do you need to find Mother now? Or can it wait?"

Thor frowned for a moment as he puzzled that out. "Now, I suspect. There are only a few hours before they arrive."

"And Father dislikes juggling two royal Vanir at a time," Loki explained, knowing Thor didn't have a head for diplomacy. "You'd best ride after her."

"Yes. Come along, then, little bard." Thor clapped his shoulder companionably.

Loki preferred not to, but he could only imagine that the Warriors Three were elsewhere, and Sif was likely with Frigga. Thor didn't handle solitude well. "I'll call us up some horses and meet you by the east gate." Thor wasn't going to go anywhere without a weapon and gear. Loki, for his part, stopped by his room for his favorite old cloak on the way down, but beyond that he felt no need to outfit himself for a short ride after the court ladies.

Once they were off, Thor tried to lead the way, despite Loki having a better idea of where their mother had gone. While the younger prince subtly steered their ride toward the wide-open scrubland that the ladies favored for their expeditions (as opposed to the rougher hills where Thor and his friends tested their prowess as riders), Thor attempted to pontificate. "We haven't been visited by Mother's family in ages. Something must be afoot, don't you think? There's little love lost between Father and Njord, for all our treaties."

He looked so pleased with himself for retaining some knowledge of the affairs of state that Loki made an effort to be gentle. He'd been curious too, but he'd simply thought to find out, rather than regarding the visit as a matter of esoteric mystery. "Officially, they meet to revisit a few small, needling details within a trade policy. From what I understand, though, a significant storehouse maintained by the family has been robbed."

Thor reached over far enough to punch him on the arm. "Listening at doors again, Little Brother?"

"Only some," he said with a smile that was positively catlike in its smugness. "I also went ahead and asked." He sat in on some meetings of Odin's advisers. It was an important part of his education, as he'd serve Thor in such a capacity one day, but the young prince was not invited to all such discussions. He had to be creative. "What I've told you thus far proceeds from respectable channels of inquiry, but if you're too noble to know what comes of stationing myself near interesting keyholes..."

"Nay, tell all, Trickster." Thor grinned at him.

Loki would normally keep back at least a bit of information, but the gossip was especially fine and Thor's enthusiasm was catching. His brother was in a particularly good mood today, and it was pleasant to be praised so. He seriously considered leading their ride a bit astray so his time with Thor's attention would be longer, but they did need to find the queen, curse it all. "The storehouse is mainly concerned with mining and trade records, aboveground. An unimportant outpost watched over by a few minor officials. A secret trapdoor leads to a small cache of treasures of a valuable but mundane sort. Below that, where a satisfied thief would not think to look and hidden by old spells, is a chamber full of ancient magical artifacts. Or it was full, until a week ago."

Thor's eyes widened with enjoyable indignation. "Bold bandits indeed! And how did you come by this secret?"

"Listening outside very important doors."

He knew he'd gone a little too far when Thor's eyes darkened. "You haven't been spying on Father!"

"And if I have?"

"Go to, Loki. You forget yourself."

Always so straightforward, Thor. Loki tried to look innocent, though his thin, pale face and dark hair had taken that power from him as soon as he was too big to toddle endearingly. The best he could do was a certain cavalier superiority to silly rules. "I've nearly concluded my study of concealment magics, brother. How better to practice them?"

Thor laughed despite himself. "You complain like an old woman when confined to your chambers, so I won't carry tales. But some things ought to be above your tricks. Be bold, but not too bold."

"Aye, I'll behave. Do you want to know more of the theft?" Thor nodded, all his excitement back again. He was clearly already composing the tale of his own courageous thwarting of the bold bandits who'd dared trifle in Asgard's magics. "Ledgers were missing from among the shipping manifests, and those silver and copper coins that were in the storehouse for ordinary expenses, a reasonable effort to disguise their larceny as a petty act. The ledgers were found abandoned some leagues away. Of the treasures under the door, they were wholly undisturbed, though they were of no small worth. Through gold and emeralds and even an enchanted circlet pushed our fearless thieves." Loki hadn't yet earned himself the title "silver-tongued," but he was nearly there. His flair for storytelling was as carefully cultivated as the subtler arts of misdirection, largely because it pleased Thor. Any way he could keep the golden prince's eyes on him for a little while. "The oh-so-secret chamber beneath was ransacked. Much of what they made off with is of paltry power, largely of historical import, or useless to anyone but a sorcerer, so either there are rogue enchanters involved or in this, they were indiscriminate."

"An outrage to be sure. Was anything taken of real import?" Thor might be a bit slow, but he knew the rhythms of a good tale and trusted Loki to deliver.

"Much. But most worrisome is a relic from a very old war. It's said it was forged by a dwarf captured after a cave-in cut him off from his people, forced by enemies of Asgard to complete the task." This information had sent Loki to pester the royal archivists. He found the idea truly frightening, and added a bit more theatre to his retelling just to distance himself from the real danger. "A chain of a strange white metal that shines in darkness, fine as a lady's hair but strong as Gungnir's strike. It undoes magic."

Loki intended this to be a terrifying climax, and Thor had been nicely wound up by his lurid telling, but his older brother merely quirked an eyebrow at him. "Troubling for magicians."

"Yes, it would be most unpleasant for an individual sorcerer bound with the item, I suppose." He rolled his eyes, making only a little effort to be subtle about it. "With luck our thieves have only the knowledge of magic that you do, brother. In theory, the chain could be used to undo great magics of the kind that defend the realm." But he'd lost the tuneful, engrossing cadence of a storyteller, simply sounding like his irritable self, and Thor was clearly not interested anymore. He was so easy to lose, more and more in recent days as he approached the age of majority and the charms of ladies and arms easily overpowered the entertainments a younger brother could offer.

They lapsed into silence and Loki sulked. Half an hour into his snit, he raised his head to frown. "We should have spotted them by now."

"There's hardly cover for a party in bright gowns," Thor agreed, looking slowly over the rolling, shrubby landscape. "Do you think they might have ventured into the hills?"

"Unlikely. Mother doesn't care for the scenery. Perhaps we'd better steer toward the woods. I'll try to scry." Scrying wasn't among Loki's strengths. His magical talents, though strong, were a bit out of the usual Aesir way, and he'd had trouble picking up what was only considered intermediate by most apprentices. But he'd try.

Thor was silent while he worked. For most of a minute. "What's the trouble?"

"Scrying is essentially asking the world to tell you what's afoot. The world is seldom cooperative." Loki shook his head. "Something is wrong, though, and wrong in that direction. That much I'm sure of." He nodded to the left and drew his horse over. Loki preferred not to hurry. The situation was urgent, certainly, but not necesssarily an emergency.

Thor was a little higher up. Perhaps he also had sharper eyes. "Someone's hurt. Near the trees. Come on!" He spurred his horse, and Loki did his best to keep up.

He had always had an unreliable relationship with the animals, not particularly gifted at riding and disliked by the horses themselves. But it wasn't difficult enough to divert all his attention, and if Thor could see better, Loki still had the better sense of detail. While the body was still too far away to make out any features, the dead horse lying beside the woman was a large blue roan. That was enough to make Loki hurry. "It's Sif," he called to his brother.

Thor burst into a gallop that his favored charger wouldn't be able to keep up long. Loki didn't try to match the pace on his smaller mare. He'd likely get himself thrown, and Thor was at least something of a field nurse. He was trained for such eventualities along with other tasks that fell to warriors. Loki suspected he didn't pay those lessons much mind, but he'd be better than nothing.

When Loki caught up and hopped out of the saddle, he was pleased to see only some blood and a bruise on Sif's temple. Head wounds were dangerous, but at least she hadn't lain bleeding to death while the princes plodded along telling stories. He pulled water from the air and splashed it on her face with a thought. Her eyes opened, glaring despite their lack of focus.

"What befell you, friend?" Thor asked with a tenderness that Loki liked to pretend didn't make him jealous. He could always be sure of his brother's concern, but he was certain no one would ever look at him quite like that.

She tried to sit up and Loki had to hold her still with magic. He wasn't certain she should be allowed to do anything but lie still just yet. She did summon the strength to toss a rude gesture his way, which was heartening. "They took your mother and two of her ladies. I must be after them!"

"None doubt your valiance, Sif, but you were left unconscious," Thor said soothingly.

And his knack for leadership was all well and good, but not helpful. Loki didn't let him go on. "Who are they? Bandits? Mercenaries?" Who had his mother? Any royalty had enemies, for all Asgard was a sweet land for most of its people. Some of those who might stoop to kidnapping a queen and her ladies might be honorable, but most not at all.

She looked blearily at him a moment and he had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping. Head wound. "I took them for ordinary miscreants, but when I'd beaten most of them back, it was a Jotun who struck me down."

Head wound or not, it had taken her so long to reach that point? Loki stared at her in horror a moment, then jumped up and shoved his foot in a stirrup. He was immediately shoved backward and realized that he'd tried to mount Thor's horse. He was lucky it hadn't kicked him. "Take her to the palace and bring reinforcements," he said sharply, moving to correct his mistake.

Thor looked a bit dazed at being told what to do. Sif spoke for him. "And what do you expect to do?"

Loki swallowed hard as he clambered into his saddle. "Know where they are, at the very least. Stall them until help arrives. Those vile brutes have my mother." A long-term, deliberate scrying would give him a splitting headache, but he didn't see any other way. He was no hunter and there was no clear trail, though the signs of battle were stamped onto the ground around them. Following the magical prompting, he kicked the horse and took off.

Even a poor horseman moving alone could cover ground more quickly than a large group trying to stay quiet with three captives to manage. Three Asgardian captives. Frigga had never been a warrior by vocation, but she was a wicked fencer and hard as nails when she wished to be, and Sif was only the fiercest of her retinue by a small margin. Loki found them before the headache the spell caused made it impossible to carry on, in any case.

He counted seven men, all desperate characters by the look of them, fallen low enough to throw their lot in with monsters. They rode in tight formation with the horses bearing bound captives in the center. He saw no Jotun. While it was nice to think that perhaps Sif had been hallucinating, he suspected it was more likely that the horrors had gone ahead or were lurking somewhere.

No time. Loki was generally a master of finesse and subtlety. He carefully measured his use of magic unless he was safely ensconced in the library with his studies, and he wrapped his spells in silence and stillness that made the work far more difficult and was usually only the purview of masters. Not now, though. They had his mother. They'd wounded Sif, and the other ladies were likely nearly as battered. He had no particular love for them, but the insult to Asgard was profound. And they were in his home. Frost giants had always made his skin crawl. Even the stories had horrified him beyond any other tales of monsters he'd heard as a child.

Loki's most reliable magics were elemental spells. They were early in the standard curriculum for apprentices, but he'd taken to them with particular aplomb. His best was water, with its attendant sisters mist and ice, but he didn't dare use that when their true masters were about. He'd need to rely on his lesser skills and hope he could be bold enough.

He tore the ground open in front of the band. To move so much earth required that he speak the words aloud and use both hands to rapidly draw the signs that kept him from sapping his own power too quickly. He might have dazed himself completely otherwise. But while he halted their progress on the road, he unavoidably called attention to himself.

Five of the men collected around the women and Loki laughed. There was an edge of hysteria in it—he was not a warrior and he had no head for this sort of thing—but he'd been afraid they'd all rush him. Two, he could handle. Thank heaven for pride. One had a mace of heavy, almost pure iron, and the metal sang to him. Whenever he used a lot of magic, the whole world seemed to whisper to him to do more. Usually he resisted that siren call, but today he embraced it, reaching for the weapon with his mind. In a moment of giddy inspiration he introduced fire, and the bandit screamed horribly, trying to drop the mace and losing fingers as gravity finally claimed the weapon. Cooked.

Loki froze, fighting nausea. He hadn't meant to do that. He was still venomously angry and afraid for his mother, but the reality of his foolish mission was suddenly impossible to ignore. A constant diet of fantasies about battles really should have prepared him a bit better. Reeling, he barely had the presence of mind to unhorse the other man bearing down on him, wasting power and doing little damage by simply pushing like a fresh recruit trying to learn the process of spellwork. The mercenary hit the ground, but he and his sword were after Loki's horse immediately.

Carrying a weapon was pointless for Loki. He'd never trained and he lacked the coordination to even pretend not to be a rank amateur. With no armament, there was no real advantage to being the one on a horse, and the already strained and tired mare had never liked him. When he failed to rally fast enough to keep the man from striking at her legs with his sword, she threw him.

Loki managed to cushion his fall a little with a sharp rush of air, but that was more drain on his magic and the landing knocked the wind out of him anyway. The man he'd only mildly inconvenienced nearly spitted him through the throat before another of them called him off.

"Stay the blade, man. That's a prince you have there. Worth a damn sight more than the wenches."

"That's a witch. You saw what he did." The man didn't lower the point, but he didn't raise it. Loki shook enough of his fear and revulsion to reach over and catch hold of a tree root with a tendril of power. The towering oak reached down with a branch and pulled the man skyward, like a lady's hand plucking a flower.

The urge to remove one more threat and squeeze was there, but he could see the first man he'd attacked sobbing in pain. He tried to rally himself as a royal instead. "There are more coming. You won't escape, and whatever ransom you expected to garner this way is out of reach. Release your captives now and you may keep your miserable lives."

Now if only they didn't question whether the younger prince could make such an offer, didn't notice that he was pale and unsteady and alone. He just needed them to let their prisoners go, and then he didn't care what happened to them. He couldn't imagine what the plan was, how they thought they would escape with the queen when they were in easy reach of not only Asgard's elite troops but her mightiest sorcerers. Masters who made easy work of all the spells Loki struggled with or had yet to learn, who could snatch people safely away from unseemly hands and swallow the miscreants in burning mists from afar.

It should have worked. It should have at least made them hesitate, drawn curiosity from a few of the mercenaries who'd seen a skinny scarecrow of a prince well short of manhood defeat two of their own. Instead, one laughed, and Frigga managed to turn toward him. She couldn't talk around her gag. That, he had the magic to fix. Twisting his fingers and whispering harshly, he tore the rag stuffed in her mouth away.

At least she didn't hesitate, used as she was to having a creative sorcerer for a son. "Behind you, child!"

Loki spun. There was nothing there, but something prickled at his sense of magic, and there was a gray shifting in the corner of his eye. True invisibility required juggling several sorts of illusion magic and was difficult for even a master sorcerer, but misdirection was simpler. He knew enough to be sure his eyes were being forced away from whatever was stalking him, but not enough to be able to disrupt it. He tried a spell to neutralize other magics around him, but that was unreliable at the best of times, and the confounding effect was likely keeping him from focusing wherever the attention was needed. The other mercenaries were laughing and Frigga telling him to run was cut off with what he had to assume was another gag. How dare they lay hands on her? Furious, he lashed out in random directions, forgetting what it felt like to know he'd hurt someone and just needing it to stop. Fire drained energy, much as its destructive capability appealed at first, and he tried a blade of ice. It fell to water in his hands and refused to reform. His mouth went dry as he realized what was taunting him.

Analytical even now, Loki had just enough attention to spare to be indignant. The Jotun weren't supposed to have proper sorcerers. Their magic was old and imprecise, stuff of cold stone and colder ice and the clumsy alchemy of herbs and potions. Or so every Asgardian apprentice learned. Perhaps he ought to take that up with his tutors.

Then there was a cry, a thud, and a huge, ghastly form collapsed beside him with Thor's sword in its back. His brother was pink-cheeked and panting, but apparently not so exhausted that he couldn't save them. It was all Loki could do not to hug him, and he didn't think he'd hugged Thor since he was half as tall as now.

Sparked by anger and the thrill of his rescue, Loki was also sharply aware that his reserves were low, and fighting the inexplicably bespelled Jotun had taken a particular toll on his magic. Time to be clever and let Thor hit people with heavy things. He dropped to his knees, making contact with the ground and sketching his runes more permanently in the dirt to boost his spell. More time and more preparation meant he'd need less power.

Thor approached with his blooded sword at the ready. One of the mercenaries pulled a bow and another finally had the sense to hold a blade to Frigga's throat. "Come a step closer, highness. Do."

Loki abandoned his preparations for a moment and repeated his attack on his mother's gag, this time targeting all the prisoners' bonds. He was dizzy after he'd done it, but they were all freed, and Frigga twisted with brilliant speed to punch the villain off his horse. Asgardian queens were not easy prey, and she'd had time to rest and get angry.

Taking his chance, Loki completed his work and everything rooted in the ground grabbed for the mercenaries and their horses, dragging them to the ground and holding on. Loki reeled. He'd used more magic in the last few minutes than on some of his daylong examinations, and he felt somewhere between sick and disembodied. But Frigga and her ladies were rushing toward them and everything would be alright. And perhaps, a little voice inside him whispered, he might just once be recognized for his part.

"There's help coming, Mother." Thor smiled winningly, already the hero in his own mind. "Go up the road to meet them. We'll stay to make sure this filth doesn't escape."

"My good boys," she said with an exhausted smile. Thor had to bend to let her kiss his forehead. She'd have had to duck a bit to do the same to Loki even if he hadn't forgotten to get up. She bent double to kiss the top of his head, and said, in fiercer tones, "My good, good boys." He smiled blearily at the praise.

The women hurried away. Thor hooked his arms under Loki's and hoisted him up. "I believe Mother just took your horse."

"Oh. ...Good."

"And the other two are likely to share mine. I tethered him far enough away that they wouldn't hear my approach."

"That was very clever."

"Sif's idea." Thor frowned at him, then at the groaning captives. "Are you still maintaining that spell?"

"To some extent. It's tied to me. Whenever one of them presses at his bonds, holding them in place requires a bit from from me."

"It might be best if you stopped. You look ill, brother. I'm sure they'll surrender properly now." Thor clapped him on the back.

"I'll release them one by one. You can take the rope left over and tie them up as I do." Thor nodded and let him go. Loki tried hard to ignore the urge to sink back to the ground as he released his control over one man's bonds.

Slow going. He hoped he wouldn't faint. He'd seen it happen to one apprentice. She'd overextended herself by simply practicing too long without rest, and then a surprise visit from one of the palace's masters had led her to attempt a showy demonstration. She'd slept for a solid day and was still avoiding that particular sorcerer.

But that hyperawareness of the magic around him hadn't abated, and at the moment he was tied to the soil and all its life. It was terribly uncomfortable, and it took him a moment to realize that wasn't increasing by the moment simply because he was too tired to be overstimulated. "Brother, several someones are coming."

"Oh, is our relief here?"

"No, from the other direction. And not naturally. There's something strange..." He shook his head, trying to clear it a little, but if he were to release his link to the ground, he'd let the mercenaries go, and Thor only had half of them bound. "A great deal of strangeness, like many magics in one place... At once..." Finally, his groggy mind snapped into place. A Jotun who'd been nearly invisible. A quest that would bring the awful creatures to Asgard and justify collecting dregs like these bandits. A secret cellar once full of magical artifacts. "Leave them, brother. It's time to go."

"Leave the bastards who meant to kidnap Mother?" Thor looked more confused than anything else. He knew enough to assume Loki had a reason, but doubtless lacked the creativity to think of one that would suffice.

"I suspect we're about to meet some number of monsters with a very large number of magical relics."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean forget about the-" Too late. Quite suddenly, they were all surrounded by a heavy, freezing mist. If Loki had tried a similar magic, the fog would have rolled in and thickened. This one simply appeared, so dense he couldn't even see Thor.