Amarok snatched a torch from the post behind him, and held it over the bowl. With supernatural rapidity, the ice melted, and the surface of the mjod churned with miniature waves. Russ raised the lanx again. Amarok followed the bowl with the torch so that it singed Russ' hair. The mjod thrashed and bubbled, steaming now. Russ raised it to his lips and drank, and drank, and drank. The mjod was boiling hot. Its fumes pushed up his nose and made his eyes stream. Still he drank, ignoring the pain.

He set it down with a gasp. Amarok looked at him with wide eyes and bared teeth. All Russ' great efforts had succeeded in lowering the level of the mjod by a finger's width, but it amazed the shadow wolf nonetheless.

'You… you drank,' it growled. 'You have supped enough to make the level drop.'

'Most refreshing,' said Russ. He belched appreciatively.

Amarok recovered. 'Then drink more.'

'Oh, I thank you but no. I have had my fill. Such a marvellous lanx could sate the hersirs of four aetts. Your generosity knows no bounds - for this I am thankful, and will sing the praises of your tribe in the lands of above.' He ran his finger over the section he had bitten away. 'I am sorry about the bowl's edge, it was a pretty thing.'

The shadow wolves laughed, all except Amarok.

'You insult me!' he snarled, and lunged for Russ.

The primarch backhanded the wolf across the muzzle as casually as if he were chastising one of his own animals. Amarok tumbled backwards with a yelp, rolled into a crouch and prepared to leap.

'Enough!' roared the Great Wolf. 'This man of the Russ is our guest, no matter how unwelcome. You offered him meat, he declined it politely in the proper form. You offered him drink, he imbibed his fill. He abides by the hearthlaw. You cannot harm him, Amarok, or you risk expulsion from this place. You are a guest here, as much as he.'

Amarok's ears pressed against his skull, and he bowed his head, turning it to the side to expose his throat to his king.

'I recognise my failing and will be sure to correct it.'

Russ' skin crawled to see this malefic abomination display the customs of the Rout.

Tension receded a little. The Great Wolf barked out a command. Servants appeared from nowhere, whisking away the platters and bones of the feast. They were the shades of men and women of advanced years; the dead who had been slain by shameful age alone.

'If our guest is mighty enough to drink of our mjod, perhaps he would enjoy another challenge?'

'Most certainly,' replied Russ, and clapped his hands together. 'The nights here are long. I am sure you would appreciate the diversion.'