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the gait of a man who didn’t make it to the dung-hole in time. ‘It really stings.’ ‘That’ll be the mustard seed.’ On reflection it had probably been fennel seed the recipe called for, but I decided not to mention it now.
‘Let’s try honesty first and move on to lies if it proves too upsetting.’
‘Honestly … I’d much rather be back in Trond with a big plate of liver and onions. I could settle there, do a spot of fishing, find a wife.’ ‘And the axe-wetting?’ ‘Scares me shitless. The only thing that stops me running away in battle is knowing everyone else is
faster than me and I’d get cut down...
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Hardanger. He’s feared more than loved. He has a way about him. When he focuses on a man many find it hard to resist him, they’re swept along with his energy, but when he turns away often that man will remember reasons to hate him again.’
it. Our serious fighting force consisted of Snorri and Ein, both much diminished by their injuries. Tuttugu and me together could have been defeated by a single determined twelve-year-old armed with a stick.
The troops are just a bonus. What they’re really after is Rikeson’s key. Not that Rikeson fashioned it. Aslaug says he tricked Loki out of it. Or Loki let it seem that way but really it was Loki who tricked Olaaf Rikeson into taking it.’
Aslaug agrees. She is, it must be said, far more agreeable than Baraqel ever was. I’m amazed Snorri took against her so. Yes, I should grow up, and yes, I will, but there’s time for
that tomorrow. Today is for living. So here we are, snug in the Three Axes with nothing to do but do nothing. Winter has us locked in, safe from the outside world, trapped in our own little inside world. Ironic when our prize was a key that can open anything, and here we are locked in, kept in Trond until the spring unlocks the ice and sets us free.
Snorri though, he broods on the past. He’ll sit there on the porch when it’s cold enough to freeze waves in place, wrapped up, axe across his lap, staring at that key. Now I like keys by and large, but that thing, that piece of obsidian – that I don’t like. You look at it and it makes you think. Too much thinking isn’t good for anyone. Especially for a man like Snorri ver Snagason who’s apt to act
upon his thoughts. He sits there staring at it and I can tell the ideas that are spinning in his head – I didn’t need Aslaug to tell me that. He has a key that will open any door. He has a dead family. And somewhere out there is a door that leads into death, a door that swings both ways, a door that shouldn’t ever be opened, a door that couldn’t ever be opened. Until now.
