‘Oh, yes,’ replied the Oracle. ‘Why do you doubt it? He’s done it before. He may feel a pang or two of remorse but that won’t stop him from using you when he needs a scapegoat. Face it, Trickster, you’re alone. You’ve always been alone here. Odin was never a friend to you, any more than he was to me. And as for the others . . .’ The Oracle glowed in a way that was almost like laughter. ‘You already know what they think of you. They hate you and despise you. The moment Odin gives the word, they’ll be on you like a pack of wolves. Look what they did to Fenris. Look how they dealt with Jormungand. You know it’s just a matter of time before you’re officially declared an undesirable.’

‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’

‘Oracles don’t lie,’ it said.

‘Well, how can we stop it from happening?’

Its colours brightened. ‘You can’t,’ it said.

‘But surely—’

‘You can’t,’ it repeated. ‘You’ve heard it now. Loki, this is Destiny. I know it’s hard. But Destiny has a habit of finding you wherever you hide. Sometimes it even meets you as you go running to avoid it.’

‘Is that a prophecy?’ I said.

‘What do you think?’ said the Head.

And so I crept back to my bed, though sleep was slow in coming. I told myself that I didn’t believe in Destiny, or prophecies, or dreams, but the Oracle’s words still troubled me. Could I escape Surt’s vengeance? Could I escape the End of the Worlds? Could I somehow save myself from the Old Man’s treachery?

At last I fell into fitful sleep, and dreamed of snakes. You know I hate snakes. And then in the morning I went out to work, collecting every scrap of news or information I possibly could.

Nuts for the winter, like Ratatosk. That’s all I was really collecting. A man should always be prepared for Last Days, and if Mimir was to be believed, those were the days we were heading for. Not that it showed as yet, no. Asgard’s falltime was golden. There was peace in the Middle Worlds; Ice Folk and Rock Folk were both subdued. No enemy, no warlord, no renegade of the Vanir had come within a hundred miles of Asgard over the past six months, and Thor was getting slow and fat from lack of combat practice. There was nothing (except for Odin’s aloofness and Frigg’s maternal anxiety) to suggest that anything bad was on the cards. But it was. I knew it was. And knowing it changed everything.