“By what authority!” said Jón. “Those are my bodyguards!”

Out the window he saw Bjarni hand each of them a purse of coins. The bodyguards were nodding.

“Not anymore,” said Tyr.

“Nonsense!” said Jón. “I’ll pay them twice as much! I’m the richest man in Iceland, after all!”

“That may be, but you have no power.”

“Yes I have!” Jón shouted. “I’ll buy an army and flatten this whole rotten town!”

He kicked over his dressing stand and punched the wall, then stood quietly for a time, massaging his hurt knuckles and watching out the window. The guards had let Blood-Axe through the gate, and now he was leading them toward the house.

Tyr laid a hand gently on Jón’s shoulder. “You’re a prisoner,” he said. “A very wealthy prisoner, but a prisoner nonetheless. And you’ll have to do as you’re told.”

Slowly, Jón raised his eyes from the floor and looked at him. “Why have you come here tonight?” he said. “To watch the seeds of misery you sowed blossom? Well, I hope you’re enjoying your handiwork. Three times I tried to quit, and three times you refused to let me — and now look what’s happened!”

“I didn’t force you to do anything. And I don’t take any pleasure from your misfortune, Jón Jónsson, I truly don’t.”

“Then why are you here?” Jón demanded.

“I thought perhaps there’s something you’d want to give me.”

“Yes, a fat lip!” said Jón, and he swung his fist at Tyr.

Tyr dodged it easily—casually, even—then smiled. “No, something else.”

Jón stared at him blankly for a moment, then realized what Tyr meant.

“The boxes.”

“Yes.”

There was a loud bang on the bedroom door. “Jón Jónsson!” shouted Blood-Axe from the hall. “Come out at once. I want to talk with you!”

In a sudden rush, Jón dove under his bed and pulled out the obsidian boxes. “Without these, I’m of no use at all!” he said. “They can’t force me to do anything!”

“Precisely,” said Tyr.

“Will you keep them safe for me?” Jón asked him.

“Have no doubt,” Tyr said.

There was more banging at the door. “Don’t make me break it down, Jón Jónsson!”

“Then take them,” said Jón, pressing the boxes into Tyr’s hands.

“What about your gold?” said Tyr. “When they find out you don’t have their sunlight, they’ll surely confiscate it. Perhaps I should keep that safe for you, too.”

“But how will you carry it?” said Jón.

“Let me worry about that,” said Tyr.

“That’s it, Jón, I warned you!” shouted Blood-Axe, and there was a thud as the door shuddered in its frame.

“All right, just hurry!” Jón said to Tyr.

Tyr took off his gray cloak and threw it over the chest of gold. “Good-bye, Jón Jónsson!” he said with a smile, and then he, the chest of gold, and the obsidian boxes all disappeared in a great puff of smoke.

A moment later, the door came flying off its hinges.

Blood-Axe stumbled into the room with two guards.