As I entered, Thor sat up, grabbing one of the daughters in each fist. Gjalp and Greip were cawing like crows, trying to shift Aspect, but Grid’s borrowed gauntlets held them fast and all they could do was struggle.

I adopted the casual approach.

‘Oh. I see you’ve met Gjalp and Greip,’ I said.

‘What the Hel?’ roared the Thunderer. ‘These crones were trying to strangle me!’

I quickly disposed of the length of wire. ‘Thor, this is hardly chivalrous. Not when our host’s lovely daughters were trying to give you a relaxing massage, using – er – the traditional massage cord for which the Ice Folk are famous.’

Thor made an explosive sound. ‘Lovely daughters?’

I had to admit that was quite a leap. I pointed out that, though muffin-faced, Greip did have quite a nice figure, and besides, not everyone finds body hair unappealing.

Thor looked a little more closely at Gjalp. ‘Isn’t that the hag who tried to drown us earlier?’ he said in a piercing whisper.

‘Oh, no, I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘That one was much uglier.’ Then, addressing the two beauties, I said: ‘Perhaps we’d better go and see your father before we accept any more hospitality? I’m sure he’s keen to welcome us.’

I looked at Thor, who reluctantly loosened his hold on the two hags, and now stood looking vaguely confused, as if alarmed at his own strength. Grid’s belt might have helped him, but even without it, half the time, Thor has no idea of his power. Just looking at those hands of his in their iron gauntlets, I felt a growing discomfort, and I was about to suggest we left when Geirrod’s servant re-entered the tent and announced that his master was ready.

‘He is?’ I said.

‘Oh, yes,’ said the servant. ‘He thought perhaps you might like to join in a few games before dinner.’

‘Dinner?’ said Thor.

‘Games?’ I said.

It crossed my mind that the kind of games Geirrod liked to indulge in were probably not the kind of games I was likely to enjoy. But Thor, to whom the word dinner was like a clarion call to arms, was halfway out of the door by the time I could voice my objection.

I followed – what else could I do? – and as we entered Geirrod’s place we saw that, instead of the usual fire, there was a row of furnaces all down both sides of the long hall. It was already sweltering inside; the light was red and treacherous. Just the way I like it, in fact, but Thor was squinting against the smoke.