Under A Winter Sun by Johan Dahlgren (ink ebook reader txt) 📕

“So, Asher.” He brushes snow from my anorak and ushers me back inside the bar. “What brings you to Nifelheimr?”

Now that he has my name, I may as well put the rest of our cards on the table. “Thought I'd drop in on Finn, see how he's doing. And we're here to see your father.”

He squints, suspicious. “The Jarl? Why?”

“We're looking for someone. Or rather, they are.” I point to the girls, and Eirik turns towards them.

“What have we here? Little women? Beautiful ones at that. I had no idea you were this pretty. I am Eirik Wagner. Welcome.” He spreads his arms and beams at them, showing perfect teeth under his immaculately groomed golden moustache.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jagr snaps. Her face is unreadable. This is not going according to her plan.

“Oh, come now,” Eirik tuts. “That's no way to start a relationship.”

Jagr ignores him. “We have business with your father, Goliath. Business that could be lucrative for him. And for you.”

Eirik chews on nothing for a while. Then he turns his back on us, rests his massive hands on the bar and lowers his head like he's trying to divine his future in the mead and blood covering the surface. He drums his thick fingers against the concrete. “What business is this?” He turns back to Jagr. There's a strange smile playing at the corner of his mouth. This whole charade rings false.

“Our business is for your father's ears only.”

Eirik inclines his head. “Will you tell me if I buy you a round?”

He is a smooth talker, but this whole thing feels like a shoddily rehearsed play.

Soledad cuts in. “Try it and find out, Goliath.”

Eirik laughs. That was not in the script. “A round for the little ones,” he calls to the barman who pours fresh drinks. When the barman hands them over, he scowls at me and says something to Eirik that includes the words åttio and kronor.

Eirik looks at me. Then he laughs again.

“Put it on my tab,” he says to the bartender and hands out the drinks.

He raises his vessel. “Here's to lucrative business.”

“To lucrative business,” we echo and bang our jugs together, splashing foul mead all over the bar and the floor. This ancient Goliath custom probably arose as a legitimate excuse to spill the vile drink. I can't blame them. It tastes like ass.

Eirik empties his drink in one go. We don't.

“Well then, let's go see my father,” Eirik says as he slams the empty vessel on the bar. “We'll ride with you.”

His face says it's not something to be argued about.

“Well then,” Jagr echoes. “Excellent.”

She slams her still half-full jug down next to Eirik's. “Let's go.”

I thought she was smarter than this. Eirik is up to something.

The redhead in the corner gets up and throws a handful of coins on the table. She nods and gives me a smile that warms me down to my balls.

“Hildr, are you coming?”, Eirik calls to her.

“Going for a piss. I'll meet you outside.” She heads for a frost-rimmed metal door in the back, crudely marked with something resembling a toilet.

Who is she? Must be someone important if she rides with Eirik.

Eirik reaches behind the bar and pulls something from a shelf. “Here, little people. Take these. I don't want my guests to freeze their faces off.”

He hands out bulky knitted scarves made from off-white woolly fabric. Mine smells like something took a crap and died in it.

The Goliaths wrap their shaggy faces, and we follow suit. The smell is horrible, but the warmth is nice. We head for the door with Eirik in front and Berengar and the twins making up the rear like an honour guard. Or a prison detail.

On the way out I smile at the bartender. “I told you I'd get your money.”

He gives me a sour face and spits in the jug he's holding. Then he cleans it out with his dirty towel.

I knew it.

* * *

Back on the Sundowner, we strap in for the short hop over the mountains to the Jarl's fortress. Eirik sits next to me. The redhead sits on his other side. She appears to have fallen asleep. Jagr sits across the aisle, studying our guests.

On the way in I noticed Eirik eyeing the hardware in the cargo bay. There's no reason to doubt Eirik knows who we are, and if he's still playing along with this charade, he wants something.

As soon as we're airborne, he slaps a ham-sized fist on my knee.

“Good to see you again, Perez.”

He sounds sincere enough, but there's no warmth in his eyes when I meet them.

“Likewise. It's been too long. When was it we last met, you and I? Twenty years ago?”

“Something like that. We were both young. A lot of dark water under Bifrost since.”

“Yes, those were the days. What have you been up to?”

He peers off into the distance.

“I spent a decade in the Varangian guard.”

That must have been a heaven and hell experience, judging by his facial expression. I nod, impressed. If he served in the Cardinal's personal Goliath guard, he's not all fancy clothes and manicured beards these days. The Guards are mean bastards.

“But then father called me back when mother died, and he remarried. A kingdom doesn't run itself, and with Finn gone to breeding, there's a lot for my father to handle on his own.”

“How is your father? Well, I hope.”

“He is splendid. He's old, but he still has his strength. The old man will live for decades.”

Do I detect a slight frustration there?

“Let's hope he does. He is an honourable man, your father.”

“That he is.” Eirik falls silent. Then he looks at Jagr. “A word, if I may, little woman.” His voice is almost jovial.

“I'm listening, Eirik.”

“You are the one I've talked to?”

“I am.”

Do they know each other?

“Does our deal stand?”

Jagr chews her lower lip. “If you can guarantee your end of the bargain, then yes, our deal stands.”

I scowl at Jagr. What's this talk of a deal? She