"I don't care about that," growled Alviss. "I've always had a hunch that before you made the mead, one or both of you drank his blood straight and gained his power of all knowledge. I want to know if that's true and I'm going to find out or I'll knock your heads together until there's an earthquake up above."
For a minute the two dwarfs met Alviss' gaze, but one of them finally weakened. "It was him," he said, jerking a thumb in the direction of his companion.
"Is that true, Fialer?" Alviss asked.
"Yes," the dwarf gulped. "But—"
"I don't care about the reason," snapped Alviss. "Ragnarok has started and I want to know if there's any way it can be stopped?"
"Yes," said the dwarf.
"How?"
"A special brew of the same forces which permitted Loki and his children to escape will imprison them again," said Fialer. "I can write out the prescription for you in a few minutes."
"All right," said Alviss. "Get busy and write it out. Galar, you get going. I want every available gnome, dwarf, fairy, leprechaun, brownie—in short, everyone here as quickly as they can make it. As for you," he added, whirling on Kevan, "you get over in the corner and stay out of the way until I'm ready for you."