Of course, by then it was too late to review terms. And so the Vanir, in revenge, grabbed Mimir and cut off his head, and sent Honir back with it to Asgard. But the Old Man took the Head and, using his newly acquired skills, preserved it with runes, and made it speak, so that Mimir’s well of knowledge was passed onto the General, and Odin the Ruthless became Odin the Wise, unchallenged and beloved by all – except perhaps by Mimir’s Head, which he kept in a cold spring that led straight down to the River Dream.

But in the end Odin paid for sacrificing Mimir. The first down-payment was his eye, as part of the spell that kept Mimir alive. The rest, well. More of that later. Suffice it to say at this point: never trust an oracle. And never trust a wise man to do the work of a felon.

If I’d been in Asgard then, I’d have stolen the runes and kept my head and saved us all a lot of unpleasantness. Wisdom isn’t everything. Survival requires an element of trickery; Chaos; subterfuge. All qualities I possess (if I may say so) in abundance. I would have been in my element spying for the Aesir. I would have taught them a trick or two that even the Vanir didn’t possess. Mimir the Wise wasn’t wise enough. Honir ‘The Silent’ should have kept shtum. And Odin should have known from the first that perfect Order does not bend; it simply stands until it breaks, which is why it rarely survives for any meaningful length of time. The General didn’t know it then, but what he needed was a friend; a friend whose morals were flexible enough to handle the moral low ground while Odin lorded it on high, keeping Order, untouchable . . .

Basically, he needed me.

Lesson 3 Blood and Water

LESSON 3

Blood and Water

Never trust a relative.

Lokabrenna

NOW I’M NOT CLAIMING Odin made the Worlds. Even Odin doesn’t say that. The Worlds have ended and been rebuilt so many times that no one knows how they came about. But Odin certainly shaped them. To the Folk of the Middle Worlds, that kind of power meant godhood, and with Asgard and the runes on his side, the Old Man was unstoppable. From the shores of the One Sea to the banks of the river Dream, everything was under his command, and his rivals – the Rock Folk, the unruly Ice Folk – were, if not entirely subdued, at least obliged to watch his triumphant ascent in sullen, angry silence.

But with power comes responsibility. And with responsibility comes fear. And with fear, comes violence. And with violence comes Chaos . . .