"I'll hurry," promised Kevan. He waved to Thrud and started the jeep. Within seconds, he had it traveling at top speed.
Alviss was still stirring his cauldron when Kevan MacGreene came bursting back through the tunnel. "Oh, it's you," he said. "Where's Thrud? Don't tell me you didn't get her!"
"I did and I didn't," panted Kevan. He quickly explained what had happened, neglecting only to make it clear that the television set had been entirely his own idea. The dwarf's face paled throughout the recital.
"I don't know if Ragnarok can be stopped," he muttered when Kevan had finished. "But maybe we can find out. I've long had a suspicion...." He walked over to one of the tunnels leading from where they stood. "Fialer," he bellowed at the top of his voice. "Galar!"
There was a distant answering shout and Alviss came back to where Kevan stood. "If anybody will know," he said, "it will be Fialer and Galar. They're the two who killed Kvaser, the god who knew all answers. You may remember hearing of the mead which they made of Kvaser's blood and honey, one draught of which would create a great poet."
"I'm afraid I never heard of it," confessed Kevan, at a total loss.
"Never mind," said Alviss. He stopped as two white-bearded dwarfs came running into the chamber. He reached out and grabbed each of them by the beard before the startled dwarfs had any idea of what was happening.
"Remember when the two of you killed Kvaser?" he asked.
"Hey, that's old stuff," one of the dwarfs said. "It's not fair dragging it up now."
"Besides," said the other, "the statute of limitations has run out."