All right, so the end result wasn’t what you’d call advantageous to Yours Truly. But in this crazy god-eat-god world, you have to learn to move with the times. And when times are bad, when darkness comes, people always go back to fire. Fire never goes out of style. In time of war, in time of fear, fire is what unites us, huddled together around the glow of something warm and dangerous. Predictably, many of the Folk turned away from the gods of Asgard and started to worship me instead. They burnt their books to keep themselves warm; made firewalls against the night. Once more I had a new name – Loki Light-Bringer – and finally, I had some respect.

Up in Asgard, the General watched the collapse of the Middle Worlds. His birds were never far away, keeping watch, reporting home. In spite of the absence of Sun and Moon, I knew that he could see me. I bit my thumb at him from afar, grinning to myself. And then, one night . . .

Well, of course, it might have been day. By then there was no difference. In any case, they arrived at my tent in human, rather than raven form; Odin’s Spirit and Odin’s mind, finally wanting to make a deal.

I’d only seen them in their human Aspects a handful of times over the years. Odin’s messengers favoured bird form, and even now their Aspects were more raven than human; both dark-haired and golden-eyed and with a tendency to crow when they got excited. Hugin was male, Munin female; other than that, and the white streak in her hair, they could easily have been twins. Both wore a great deal of jewellery: bracelets that jangled as they moved; rings in the shape of birds’ skulls on their long, dark fingers.

Hugin was the most talkative; Munin seemed the most alert. Both were nervous, and rightly so; Ironwood was no place for them now, not with Fenris running wild and my army of Firefolk and half-blood demons so close by. But I guessed they had come to talk, and although I had no intention of cutting the Old Man any more slack than he had cut me, I wouldn’t have missed this chance for the Worlds.

I shot them my friendliest smile. ‘Come in.’

They followed me into the tent and sat down on the cushions. There was a dish of crystallized fruit standing on one of the tables. Munin crawked and took a pear, eating it deftly with small, nervous bites.

‘And to what do I owe this visit?’ I said. ‘Is the Old Man lonely? Could it be that he’s having second thoughts about throwing his brother onto the pile? And if that’s the case, then why didn’t he call by in person?’

‘We speak for the Auld Man,’ said Hugin, in his hoarse voice. ‘Our words are his words.’

Munin crawked agreement and started on an orange.