Changer (Athanor) by Jane Lindskold Page A

Odin from his own death on the battlefield of Ragnarokk.
    In recent years, Odin had taken to wearing his hair long and straight, cloaking one side of his face.  Some said that he had lost an eye to an assassin and sought to conceal the damage.  Others whispered darker things.  Cunningly approaching from that blinded side, the Fenris Wolf swallowed the Aesir warlord whole.
    After Ragnarokk had muddled to its bloody end, the Changer had swept from the skies, leaving his fellow ravens to feed with the wolves on the bodies of the slain.  As an ancient, he took part in the conference to reset the balance of power.
    Even the human legends of Ragnarokk do not claim a clear winner.  Instead, legend says, the survivors stepped back from the affairs of humankind and the children of Lif and Lifthrasir populated a new Earth beneath a new sun and moon.
    The reality was a little different.  Loki was presumed dead (although this was later proven untrue), and the most powerful of his allies were either slain or, as was the Changer’s brother, Jormungandr, severely wounded.  The Aesir were little better off.
    Odin was dead, but Mimir remained.  He raised up Frey, who had been stunned but not slain by the flaming sword of Surt, hailing him as a new ruler for their people, a champion of ideals, and one who could work both with humans and athanor.
    Mimir discoursed with eloquence as was his wont, but, even more than that eloquence, what swayed the dissidents was the frightful rawness on one shoulder near to his neck.  The rawness resembled the stump of a tree when the trunk has been shorn away.  Those who knew what had dwelt beneath Mimir’s hood feared, with a base, primal fear of black sorcery, what he had done to himself.
    Following Mimir’s nomination, Frey was accepted as ruler of a freshly forged Accord.  Then the battle-worn and battle-scarred survivors had returned to their homes.  
    Rumors continued to spread, though, rumors that became accepted as fact.  Soon everyone knew why Odin had worn his hair straight and long over one side of his face, knew what had been the price that he had paid for the counsel of Mimir: counsel that had won him his battle and his cause, but cost him his life.

    Sprawled in a teak patio chair, the Changer remembers this and considers the possibility that Mimir has learned more wisdom over the centuries.  Certainly Arthur has thrived and while there have been many wars, there have been no other Ragnarokks.
    He will meet with Lovern, hear his council.  Such is no great difficulty for him.  After all, he hasn’t finished acquainting himself with the changes to New Mexico and, even if Arthur thinks that the knowledge remains secret, the Changer has learned that his prey now dwells a mere sixty-five miles away in the city of Santa Fe.

    Arthur is anxious as the moment arrives to bring the Changer and Lovern together.  He has not been a ruler of men and athanor these past centuries without learning to read something of their feelings, even when those feelings are masked by manners.
    Clearly, the Changer does not bear Lovern any great respect or even admiration.  Lovern, in turn, regards the Changer with that slight edge of insecurity that he brings, even this late in life, to his meetings with those athanor he does not overawe.  Fortunately, there are few enough who have not learned to flatter the sorcerer.  It is just Arthur’s luck that the Changer’s insouciant disregard for just about everyone extends to Lovern.
    The five residents of Arthur’s hacienda assemble in the courtyard, a move that gives a home-turf advantage to the Changer, since he has been residing there since his arrival.
    Viewing the damage the coyote pup has done to the shrubbery and to the outdoor furniture, Arthur is grateful for the Changer’s choice of residence.
    The Changer is waiting for them in human form, his black hair loose around his shoulders.  As part of crafting the Changer’s human identity, Eddie had