We spent the rest of the evening eating, drinking and listening to music played by the king’s servants. No lutes in Utgard, thank the gods, but lots of heavy guitars, playing complicated, interminable solos. In victory, Utgard-Loki was as genial as he’d previously been rude; offering us the best cuts of meat, the best seats at his table. We didn’t enjoy the experience much – Thor and I were too ashamed, and Thialfi and Roskva were suffering from a serious emotional let-down – but the giant king was at pains to make the rest of our stay as pleasant as he could. We slept on soft beds covered in furs, and in the morning, when we rose, our host was there to greet us. Once more he plied us with food and drink, although the rest of his people were still asleep on the floor of the hall, and then he accompanied us out of the gates and back to the ridge of mountains.

‘This is where I leave you,’ he said, stopping at last to address us. None of us had been especially talkative on the way out of Utgard. Thor was still angry about his defeat; Roskva was sulking because no one had asked her to demonstrate her skills, and Thialfi was still limping. Face it, we’d all been humiliated, and we wanted to forget the experience as soon as we could.

‘So, what did you think of my city?’ said Utgard-Loki with a smile. ‘What kind of impression do you think you made on me, and on my people?’

Thor shook his head listlessly. ‘I think we’re all more than aware we didn’t exactly shine,’ he said.

Once more Utgard-Loki smiled. ‘Let me tell you this,’ he said. ‘If I’d known how strong you were, Asa-Thor, and how powerful the gods of Asgard were in comparison to my folk, I would never have let you within a hundred miles of the city. Do you know you were nearly the death of us all?’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Thor, perplexed.

But I was beginning to guess at the truth. The city was filled with glamours. The great hall had been thick with them, far too many to identify. A game of smoke and mirrors, I thought; enhanced by powerful runelore. And the giant king? A trickster, Skrymir had told us; a trickster to rival even the Trickster himself.

‘I think I do,’ I told him. ‘You were Skrymir, weren’t you?’