The Ship of the Dead (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard #3)

The daughters of Aegir shot to their feet. Some picked up steak knives, forks, or napkins to stab, poke, or strangle us with.

Aegir screamed, “Magnus Chase? What is this deception?”

My friends and I didn’t move a muscle. We all knew how guest rights worked. We still might be able to talk our way out of a fight, but once we drew our weapons, we stopped being considered guests and started being the catch of the day. Against an entire family of jotun deities on their home turf, I didn’t like our odds.

“Wait!” I said, as calmly as I could with a woman named Blood-Red Hair holding a knife over me. “We’re still guests at your table. We haven’t broken any rules.”

Steam rolled beneath the brim of Aegir’s panama hat. His gold-rimmed glasses fogged up. Under his arm, the mead cask began to creak like a pecan in a nutcracker.

“You lied to me,” Aegir snarled. “You said you weren’t Magnus Chase!”

“You’re going to break your cask,” I warned.

That got his attention. Aegir shifted the mead cask forward and held it in both arms like a baby. “Guest rights do not apply! I granted you a place at my table under false pretenses!”

“I never actually said I wasn’t Magnus Chase,” I reminded him. “Besides, your daughters also brought us here because we mentioned mead.”

Kolga snarled. “And because you have an ugly yellow ship.”

I wondered if everyone could see my heart beating through my shirt. It definitely felt that strong. “Right, but also mead. We’re here to talk about mead!”

“We are?” Halfborn asked.

Mallory looked like she would have hit him, except there was a sea giantess in the way. “Of course we are, you oaf!”

“So, you see,” I continued, “that wasn’t a false pretense. That pretense was completely true!”

The daughters of Aegir muttered to themselves, unable to counter my flawless logic.

Aegir cradled his cask. “What exactly do you have to say about mead?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Then I realized I had no answer.

Once again, Samirah to the rescue. “We will explain!” she promised. “But stories are better told over dinner, with good mead, are they not?”

Aegir stroked his cask affectionately. “An aperitif, with a fruity edge.”

“Exactly,” Sam agreed. “So, let’s break our fast together. If you are not completely satisfied with our explanations at the end of the dinner, then you can kill us.”

“He can?” T.J. asked. “I mean…sure. He can.”

On my right, Blod’s clawlike fingernails dripped with red salt water. On my left, a miniature hailstorm swirled around Kolga. Interspersed between my friends, the other seven daughters snarled like Tasmanian devil waterspouts.

Blitzen put his hands on his chain mail vest. After getting stabbed by the Skofnung Sword a few months ago, he was a little sensitive about knife attacks. Hearthstone’s eyes flicked from face to face, trying to keep track of the conversation. Lip-reading a single person was hard enough. Trying to read an entire room was nearly impossible.

Mallory Keen gripped her mead goblet, ready to imprint its decorative design on the nearest giantess’s face. Halfborn frowned sleepily, no doubt convinced now that this was all a dream. T.J. tried to look inconspicuous as he dug into his pack of firing caps, and Alex Fierro just sat back calmly, sipping his peach lambic mead. Alex needed no preparation for battle. I’d seen how fast he could draw his garrote.

The sea god Aegir was the tipping point. All he had to say was kill them, and we were cooked like honey mead. We’d fight ferociously, no doubt. But we would die.

“I don’t know…” Aegir mused. “My wife said to kill you if I ever saw you. I was to drown you slowly, revive you, then drown you again.”

That sounded like Ran talking.

“Great lord,” Blitzen chimed in. “Did you swear a formal oath to kill Magnus Chase?”

“Well, no,” Aegir admitted. “But when my wife asks—”

“You have to consider her wishes, of course!” Blitz agreed. “But you also have to weigh that against guest rights, eh? And how can you be sure what to do, before you’ve given us time to tell our whole story?”

“Let me kill them, Father!” growled the daughter with exceptionally big hands. “I will grasp them until they scream!”

“Silence, Grasping Wave,” Aegir commanded.

“Let me do the honors!” said another daughter, throwing her plate to the floor. “I will pitch them into Jormungand’s mouth!”

“Hold, Pitching Wave.” Aegir frowned. “The dwarf has a point. This is a quandary….”

He stroked his keg. I waited for him to say: My mead cask is angry. And when my mead cask is angry, people DIE!

Instead, finally, he heaved a sigh. “It would be a shame to waste all this good mead. We will eat and drink together. You will tell me your story, paying special attention to how it relates to mead.”

He gestured to his daughters to be seated again. “But I warn you, Magnus Chase, if I decide to kill you, my vengeance shall be terrible. I am a jotun deity, a primordial force! Like my brothers Fire and Air, I, the Sea, am a raging power that will not be contained!”

The kitchen door burst open. In a cloud of smoke, Eldir appeared, his beard still smoldering and his chef’s hat now on fire. In his arms was a leaning tower of covered platters.

“Who had the gluten-free meal?” he growled.

“Gluten-free?” Aegir asked. “I don’t think we had gluten-free.”

“That’s mine,” said Blod. She noticed my expression and scowled defensively. “What? I’m on an all-blood diet.”

“That’s fine,” I squeaked.

“Okay, then,” Aegir said, taking charge of the orders. “Halal meal—that is Samirah’s. The vegetarian is Magnus Kill-Him-Later Chase. The green-hair entrée—”

“Right here,” said Alex, which was probably unnecessary. Even in a room filled with sea giantesses, he was still the only one present with green hair.

Platters were distributed. Mead was poured.

“Right,” Aegir said, lowering himself into his throne. “Everybody good?”

“Got one left!” Eldir yelled. “The Buddhist meal?”

“That’s me,” said Aegir.

Don’t stare, I told myself, as the primordial deity uncovered his platter of tofu and bean sprouts. This is all completely normal.

“Now, where was I?” Aegir said. “Oh, yes. A raging power that cannot be contained! I will rip you all limb from limb!”

The threat would have been more frightening if he hadn’t been waving a steamed snow pea at us.

Alex sipped from his goblet. “Can I just say that this mead is excellent? If I’m not mistaken, it has a fruity edge. How do you brew it?”

Aegir’s eyes lit up. “You have a discerning palate! You see, the secret is in the temperature of the honey.”

Aegir began to hold forth. Alex nodded politely and asked more questions.

I realized he was buying us time, hoping to draw out the meal while we thought of amazing things to say about mead. But I was fresh out of mead-related ideas.

I glanced at Blod’s plate. Big mistake. She was slurping away at a large red gelatin mold.