Hreidmar drew his knife and grinned. ‘Talk all you want. Otter’s still dead. And now you’ll pay for what you’ve done. In full. In blood.’

In blood. That again.

‘Does it have to be blood?’ I said. ‘How much do you want? I’ll raise it.’

Hreidmar’s eyes narrowed. ‘A ransom?’ he said. ‘I’m warning you, it won’t be cheap.’

‘Anything,’ I said. ‘I swear.’

Hreidmar and his sons conferred. Finally, he spoke up again. ‘All right. I agree,’ he said. ‘If you can bring me enough red gold to fill this otter skin in my hand, and then to cover it completely, I’ll let you and your friends go free. Otherwise . . .’ He ran his knife over the ball of his thumb, and smiled. The blade made a nasty stropping sound.

‘I get it,’ I said. ‘Just let me go. You can keep my friends here as hostages.’

Honir looked alarmed at this, but the General just looked inscrutable. I guessed he was trying to assess how likely it was that I would just opt to save my own skin and leave the two of them to face the music.

I turned to him. ‘You can trust me,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ And then as Hreidmar released the runes, I took hawk Aspect and flew away to find the gold that would ransom my life.

I know. I know what you’re thinking. Why bother with a ransom at all? That was my chance to finish him; to strike at the heart of Asgard; to take the revenge that I’d so long desired . . .

Stop. Stop there a moment. Follow the thread to where it leads.

If Hreidmar killed the Old Man, the whole of Nine Worlds would hear about it. Thor would be quick to avenge him. And there would be no way to escape the fact that I was responsible for his death. The gods would be after me in force. They would hunt me wherever I tried to hide. They would never leave me in peace. They would slaughter my twin sons, just to make sure that neither boy grew up with thoughts of vengeance in mind. And when they caught me – and they would – they would torture me to death as sure as snakes are slippery.