Thor's face flamed crimson as he sprang to his feet, clutching his mighty weapon.
"The arch-traitor still seeks to ruin Asgard and the Aesir!" he roared in overpowering rage. "Oh, that I could bring Miolnir down upon his skull this moment!"
"Even your strength and mighty weapon would fail against the dark science of Loki," Odin said somberly.
I looked down bewilderedly at the gold cylinder hanging on my chest. Into my mind flashed the last lines of the rune-rhyme graven on it.
While I lie far,
The Aesir safe are.
Bring me not home
Lest Ragnarok come.
Those lines seemed to throb in my mind like a beating drum of black, dire menace that cannot be seen yet can be felt.
"I do not understand, lord Odin," I faltered. "Have I done wrong in bringing this small and apparently harmless key into your land?"