Odin seen so much activity in Opal.

“We are wrecking our buildings for this ship,” Wolden mourned. “Given time, my experiments would have made worlds and space unnecessary. But it has been voted that we go after Maya and punish Grim Hagen, even though we drive to the edge of space. So be it. We are now building in weeks what it would once have taken years to do. Those on our experimental ship who have already gone out into space, they have helped us immensely. Daily they report the results of their tests to us. The good points—the bad ones—the improvements. Oh, when this is finished it will be a greater ship than we ever dreamed of. I did dream of such a ship when I was young. But now I find that I do not want it. Even so, I will go out among the stars. Wolden was never a coward, nor his fathers before him.”

“So be it,” Odin answered and he leaned his head back and looked high up at the scaffolding where the welders’ torches flashed like stars. “So be it, Wolden. But I would have gone anyway.”

And Gunnar spoke: “I would have gone beside you. My sword is thirsty.”

High up on the hour-glass shape a bit of magnesium caught fire and burned brilliantly for a second, its sparks flashing out and down. A worker, who was no more than a shadow, smothered the flame.

The sparks drifted downward like lost suns seeking a course that they could find no more. They sparkled and burned. Then they winked out, and there was nothing left upon the scaffolding but lancing flames and scurrying shadows.

All about them now, the smiths were beating out old chanteys on the ancient anvils and the newer, clashing machines.

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