we would all be better for it. Warm air thins a man’s blood, makes him effete, weak, languid. Only in the cold, conquering nature, has man developed to his highest peak.” “It’s a matter of opinion,” Durell murmured. “Was Peter serious?”
“He made it his life’s work.”
“And was he successful?”
“He told me so, the last time I spoke to him.”
“When was that? And where?”
She faced the dark sea, her amber hair agleam with drops of salt spray. The night mists shrouded the clifftop and cut them off from all the rest of the world.
“What will you do to him, if you find him?”
“We’re not sure he’s responsible for what has happened.” Durell told her briefly what was known and suspected. Elgiva listened attentively, with a small smile. She was strikingly elemental, and he could understand why the local people thought of her as a witch. “We don’t even know if Professor Peter is alive. If so, we think he must be an unwilling captive of people who use his genius for political ends.”
“But you do not understand dear Peter at all,” she murmured. “He is a dreamer, yes, and a most impractical man in everything but his scientific achievements. He has nothing to do with politics. He shuns the world of today.”
“He uses today’s technology to tamper with the balance of the earth’s climate. We’re sure of this. It’s too dangerous to be allowed to go on. Surely you understand this, Elgiva.”
“I am like Peter,” she said flatly.
He stared. “Does that mean you refuse to help?”
“Why should I?” she asked. “I want nothing to do with it.”
“You say you love him.”
“It is not a love you could understand, however.”
“Do you want him to die?” Durell asked.
“Would you kill him?”
“If I must. If there is no other way.”
“I see.” She turned abruptly and descended to the ledge which circled the sea pool. The ocean exploded with thunder all around them. “I felt this in you at once, Mr. Durell. You are not a man of this world, either.”
“I’m very much of this world.”
“An American agent,” she mused. “And very strong, with a strength of the olden times. Yes, you would kill Peter, if you had to. I believe you.”
“But I don’t want to. I want to save him. He’s in danger, a prisoner of those who use his climate control techniques for political purposes.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“Have you heard from him recently?” he insisted.
“Not for many months. I had a letter—She shrugged. “It was from the East. He was touring the Orient. He was to confer in Manila with Pacific meteorologists.”
“And he vanished from there?”
“I have not heard from him since.”
“Elgiva, he was kidnapped.”
Again she was silent, staring at the seething maelstrom twenty feet below the ledge. “Peter and Eric and I had this dream. You could not comprehend it.”
“Perhaps I do.” His voice went savage. “You three are a little mad, trying to retreat into the past to escape the problems of today. You write of ancient times and call yourself a skald. But the old bards are dead. They served a purpose in their day. Now Peter works to recreate a world of ice that existed mainly in pagan myths, and dreams of giants with bloody swords. And Eric is wrapped in the past, too, with his archaeology and recreation of Viking days. All three of you only seek escape.”
She slapped him with furious strength. Her amber eyes blazed. She said something in Swedish and turned sharply, her cloak swirling about her. Durell caught her arm and flung her back against the cliff wall.
“Elgiva, Peter is in danger. Accept it and show you believe in what you say, and help me.”
“I will not help you to trap Peter! You lie to me! Go away! I have heard enough of your schemes! Your people want Peter to use him for your own ends—”
“We just want him to stop doing what he’s doing to the weather. It’s time you all gave up the past and