"I was about," Kevan said with dignity, "to announce that I was leaving. I wondered if perhaps you might know of a shorter way back than the way I came. I'm rather tired and would like to get home as soon as I can."
"Put me down, dear," Alviss told Thrud. She obeyed and the little dwarf seemed to listen a moment. Then he picked up his pickaxe and strode over to the wall. With a few swings, he'd opened a fairly large hole.
"There," he said to Kevan, "that'll let you into a subway passage that's right beneath Shanachie's office. I must admit that I'm grateful to you, Kevan MacGreene."
"Think nothing of it," Kevan said. He started to step through the hole, then hesitated. "There is one thing I'd like to know," he said.
"What?"
"What was in that mixture that stopped Ragnarok and is strong enough to hold the evil gods of Asgard?"
"Just what the recipe called for," Alviss said proudly. "All of the pitch-blende in the world. The egos of a general, a dictator, and a number of lesser persons. The vanity of some American Congressmen. The greed of an infinite number of men. One drop of blood from the left thumb of a communist, a capitalist, a religious fanatic, a censor, a racist, and from every man in the world who would like to be a little better than some other man. A drop of marrow, as a substitute for blood, from all executive vice-presidents. One page each from a contract, a mortgage, a promissory note, an international cartel agreement. Three corporation charters. One lobbyist's expense account. Finger-nail cuttings from every politician in the world. All of these boiled together in the juice of man's inhumanity to man. Your world is now minus all of those things, but we achieved a brew which possessed more evil than Loki and his pack could stand."
"I can still remember the odor," Kevan said nodding.
"What it contained that may be of value, if used differently," said Alviss, "can sometime be regained by a world in which the mortals cannot misuse them. Although such action will also release Loki, it will then do no harm. When men are not evil, then their gods dare not be. Now, be along with you, Kevan MacGreene—I have a spot of courting to do."
Kevan stepped through the hole and found himself in a subway station. He hurried up the stairs and a moment later stepped out on the streets of New York.