Page 37 of The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul (Dirk Gently 2)

He overheard one remark to his companion that it was the left-handed three-fingered flat grip on the opponent's sternum that was all-important at the crucial moment of finally not quite falling over in a complete stupor, to which his companion responded with a benign "Oh ah."

Dirk stopped, looked and backtracked.

Sitting hunched in a thoughtful posture over his iron plate, and clad in heavily stained and matted furs and buckles which were, if anything, more rank and stinking than the ensemble Dirk had last encountered him in, was Dirk's companion from the concourse at King's Cross station.

Dirk wondered how to approach him. A quick backslap and a "Hey! Good party. Lot of energy," was one strategy, but Dirk didn't think it was the right one.

While he was wondering, an eagle suddenly swooped down from out of the air and, with a lot of beating and thrashing, landed on the table in front of the old man, folded its wings and advanced on him, demanding to be fed. Easily, the old man pulled a bit of meat off a bone and held it up to the great bird, which pecked it sharply but accurately out of his fingers.

Dirk thought that this was the key to a friendly approach. He leant over the table and picked up a small hunk of meat and offered it in turn to the bird. The bird attacked him and went for his neck, forcing him to try and beat the savage creature off with his hat, but the introduction was made.

"Oh ah," said the man, shooed the eagle away and shifted a couple of inches along the bench. Though it was not a fulsome invitation, it was at least an invitation. Dirk clambered over the bench and sat down.

'"Thank you," said Dirk, puffing.

"Oh ah."

"If you remember, we--"

At that moment the most tremendous reverberating thump sounded out across Valhalla. It was the sound of a drum being beaten, but it sounded like a drum of immense proportions, as it had to be to make itself heard over the tumult of noise with which the hall was filled. The drum sounded three times, in slow and massive beats, like the heartbeat of the hall itself.

Dirk looked up to see where the sound might have come from. He noticed for the first time that at the south end of the hall, to which he had been heading, a great balcony or bridge extended across most of its width. There were some figures up there, dimly visible through the heat haze and the eagles, but Dirk had a sense that whoever was up there presided over whoever was down here.

Odin, thought Dirk. Odin the All-Father must be up on the balcony.

The sound of the revels died down quickly, though it was several seconds before the reverberations of the noise finally fell away.

When all was quiet, but expectant, a great voice rang out from the balcony and through the hall.

The voice said, '"The time of the Challenging Hour is nearly at an end. The Challenging Hour has been called by the God Thor. For the third time of asking, where is Thor?"

A murmuring throughout the hall suggested that nobody knew where Thor was and why he had not come to make his challenge.

The voice said, "This is a very grave affront to the dignity of the All-Father. If there is no challenge before the expiration of the hour, the penalty for Thor shall be correspondingly grave."

The drum beat again three times, and the consternation in the hall increased. Where was Thor?

"He's with some girl," said a voice above the rest, and there were loud shouts of laughter, and a return to the hubbub of before.

"Yes." said Dirk, quietly, "I expect he probably is."

"Oh ah."

Dirk had supposed that he was talking to himself and was surprised to have elicited a response from the man, though not particularly surprised at the response that had been elicited.

"Thor called this meeting tonight?" Dirk asked him.

"Oh ah."

"Bit rude not to turn up."

"Oh ah."

"I expect everyone's n bit upset."

"Not as long as there's enough pigs to go round."

"Pigs?"

"Oh ah."

Dirk didn't immediately know how to go on from here.

"Oh ah," he said, resignedly.

"It's only Thor as really cares, you see," said the old man. "Keeps on issuing his challenge, then not being able to prove it. Can't argue. Gets all confused and angry, does something stupid, can't sort it out and gets made to do a penance. Everybody else just turns up for the pigs."

"Oh ah." Dirk was learning a whole new conversational technique and was astonished at how successful it was. He regarded the man with a new-found respect.

"Do you know how many stones there are in Wales?" asked the man suddenly.

"Oh ah," said Dirk warily. He didn't know this joke.

"Nor do I. He won't tell anybody. Says count 'em yourself and goes off in a sulk."

"Oh ah." He didn't think it was a very good one.

"So this time he hasn't even turned up. Can't say I blame him. But I'm sorry, because I think he might be right."

"Oh ah."

The man lapsed into silence.

Dirk waited.

"Oh ah," he said again, hopefully.

Nothing.

"So, er," said Dirk, going for a cautious prompt, "you think he might be right, eh?"

"Oh ah."

"So. Old Thor might be right, eh? That's the story," said Dirk.

"Oh ah."

"In what way," said Dirk, running out of patience at last, "do you think he might be right?"

"Oh, every way."

"Oh ah," said Dirk, defeated.

"It's no secret that the gods have fallen on hard times," said the old man, grimly. "That's clear for all to see, even for the ones who only care about the pigs, which is most of 'em. And when you feel you're not needed any more it can be hard to think beyond the next pig, even if you used to have the whole world there with you. Everyone just accepts it as inevitable. Everyone except Thor, that is. And now he's given up. Hasn't even bothered to turn up and break a pig with us. Given up his challenge. Oh ah."

"Oh ah," said Dirk.

"Oh ah."

"So, er, Thor's challenge then," said Dirk tentatively.

"Oh ah."

"What was it?"

"Oh ah."

Dirk lost his patience entirely and rounded on the man.

"What was Thor's challenge to Odin?" he insisted angrily.

The man looked round at him in slow surprise, looked him up and down with his big sagging eyes.

"You're a mortal, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Dirk testily, "I'm a mortal. Of course I'm a mortal. What has being a mortal got to do with it?"

"How did you get here?"

"I followed you." He pulled the screwed up, empty cigarette packet out of his pocket and put it on the table. "Thanks," he said, "I owe you."

It was a pretty feeble type of apology, he thought, but it was the best he could manage.

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