The meeting began – in Odin’s new hall – and all the gods had plenty to say. The Old Man let them vent for a while, watching through his living eye. The atmosphere darkened progressively as Thor clenched his hairy fists and growled and one by one, my fickle new friends turned their vengeful gaze on me.

‘This never would have happened,’ said Frey, ‘if you hadn’t listened to Loki.’

Odin said nothing and did not move, silent on his high throne.

‘We all thought he had a plan,’ Frey went on. ‘Now he’s lost us the Sun and Moon, and Freyja into the bargain.’ He turned on me, drawing his runesword. ‘Well, what do you say? What are we going to do now?’

‘I say make him bleed,’ said Thor, taking a step towards me.

Odin gave him a look. ‘Hands off. No violence from my people.’

‘What about my people?’ said Frey. ‘The Vanir never made any promises.’

‘Too right, we didn’t,’ said Freyja. ‘I second Thor.’

‘Me too,’ said Týr.

At that I started to back away. I could feel the temperature rising. The little hairs at the back of my neck started to prickle with cold sweat.

‘Guys, come on,’ I protested. ‘We all agreed to the deal, right? We all agreed to the stonemason’s terms—’

‘But you were the one who told him that he could use his horse,’ Odin said.

I looked up, startled. The General was standing behind me, tall and stern as the World Ash. His hand fell onto my shoulder. He was wearing iron gauntlets. He tightened his grip, and I recalled how deceptively strong he was.

‘Please, it’s not my fault!’ I said.

Freyja, cold as carrion, eyed me with a baleful glare. ‘I want to see him suffer,’ she said. ‘I want to hear him screaming. I’ll wear a necklace made from his teeth when I go walking down the aisle . . .’

Odin’s grasp on my shoulder was really hurting now. I winced. I’d set up this situation myself, but even so I was afraid.

‘I swear, I’ve got a plan!’ I said.

‘You’d better, or you’re toast,’ said Thor.

The gauntleted hand on my shoulder gripped me harder than ever now, forcing me to my knees. I yelped. ‘Please! Give me a chance!’ I said.

For a moment the grip held fast. Then, to my relief, it relaxed.

‘You’ll have your chance,’ said the General. ‘But your plan had better work. Because if it doesn’t, I promise you’ll be in Nine Worlds of hurt.’

I nodded, dry-mouthed. I believed him. What an actor.

Painfully, I got to my feet, rubbing my aching shoulder. ‘I told you I had a plan,’ I said, feeling quite rightly resentful. ‘I promise, by tomorrow night we’ll be in the clear, with nothing to pay, honour and promises intact.’