Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Last Rituals

"Do you remember when this was?" Matthew asked.

"The early hours of the eleventh of September," he said without a moment's thought.

Matthew nodded pensively. He looked at Thora and said in German: "He changed his will ten days later." Thora nodded too, convinced now that the young man in front of them was the Icelandic heir named in the will. He had just saved Harald's life days before the will was altered; it was unthinkable not to mention him in it.

"I understand German, you know," said Dori, grinning slyly.

His expression equally malicious, Matthew did not respond. Instead he said: "Hugi told us that Harald was sometimes nasty to you in front of the othersin fact, he humiliated you, if I remember correctly. Didn't that upset you?"

Dori snorted. "What's he going on about? You know Harald wasn't like normal people. He could wind me up, but he could be a real laugh too. Most of the time he treated me great, especially when there was just the two of us. But when we were with the others he could be a bastard every now and again. It didn't bother meHugi can tell you thatand Harald always apologized afterward. It didn't make any difference, just a drag while it lasted."

Thora didn't think it took much intelligence to see through this statement. Surely he must have found it unbearable. But there was little point in probing him for details. "So what can you tell us about Harald's research?" she asked. "Can you describe what form your help took?"

Dori answered immediately, happy to change the subject. "It was nothing special. I really only helped him with translations, with a bit of resource work too. He went all over the placeI couldn't see the connections, but I'm not a historian so that's not saying much. He sort of wandered from one thing to the nextin the middle of reading a passage I'd translated from Icelandic into English, he would suddenly ask me to read something else, and so on."

"Can you cite any examples of articles or topics he was interested in?" asked Matthew.

"Er, I can't give you a complete list. When it started I was mainly translating passages from Olina Thorvardardottir's Ph.D. dissertation on the era of witch burnings, then he became interested in Skalholt because of a text about sorcery by some of the students at the school there, and a book of witchcraft that was in circulation. He also had an old letter in DanishI wasn't so great at translating that but I did my best. It was about an emissary and something I didn't understand properly. When he got that he suddenly changed tack, stopped wondering about witch burnings so much and shifted back a century or so.

"I remember translating a passage for him from a description of Iceland by Bishop Oddur Einarsson from around 1590. It was about Hekla and I remember an account in it of a man who went mad after climbing the mountain and looking down into the crater. And he was fascinated by the eruption of Hekla in 1510, and Bishop Jon Arason and his execution in 1550, and Bishop Brynjolfur Sveinsson. Yes, then suddenly he wanted to know everything about the Irish monks. So you could say he was still going back at the time of his murderto the time before Iceland was properly settled."

From this recitation of dates it was obvious that the young man had a cast-iron memory. Not surprising that he could do his courses in spite of all that partying, Thora thought. "Irish monks?" she asked.

Dori nodded. "Yes, the hermits who were here before the Vikings arrived."

"Okay," said Thora, uncertain what to ask next. Then she remembered poor old Gunnar, who had set up the meeting with Harald's friends. "That old Danish letterdo you know where it came from or where it ended up?"

Dori shook his head. "I have no idea where he got ithe had other old letters that he was comparing with it. They were in a leather wallet, but the Danish one wasn't. It's bound to be around somewhere."

"Do you recognize the name Mal?" Matthew asked, out of the blue.

Dori looked at them and shook his head. "No, never heard of him. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," said Matthew.

Dori was about to say something when his mobile rang. He took it out, looked at the screen, pulled a face, and put it back in his pocket.

"Your mom?" Matthew asked Dori, grinning.

"Right," he replied bitterly.

A text message alert bleeped in his pocket. Since Dori made no move for his mobile, Thora fired her next question. "Do you know anything about a visitors' book that Harald may have owned or talked about? The visitors' book of the cross, or something to that effect?"

Dori looked baffled. "The visitors' book of the Cross? You mean the religious sect, the Cross?"

"No, not that," replied Thora. "So you never heard any mention of a visitors' book?"

"Nope."

Matthew clenched his fists. "Tell us about the raven Harald was trying to buy."

Dori's Adam's apple leaped in his throat. "Raven?" His voice had risen an octave.

"Yes," Thora chipped in. "We know he was trying to buy a raven. Do you know why?"

Dori shrugged. "No. But I can appreciate him wanting to own a raven. Interesting birds."

Thora was convinced that he was lying, but could not work out the best response. Matthew took over before she decided. "Do you know anything about a trip that Harald made to Holmavik to see the sorcery and witchcraft exhibition?"

"No," said Dori, clearly lying again.

"What about Hotel Ranga?" Thora asked.

"No." Another lie.

Matthew looked at Thora. "Holmavik, Ranga. Maybe we should do a bit of traveling?" Dori's expression did not suggest that he approved of this idea.

Dori was enormously relieved as he hurried away from the house. He looked over his shoulder when he had gone through the gate and onto the sidewalk, but neither Thora nor Matthew seemed to be watching him from the window. He thought he noticed a curtain twitching on the lower floor and cursed the nosy neighbor. That scraggy old bitch was still up to her tricks, he thoughtshe never gave Harald a moment's peace, complained about every cough and grunt.

The morning after one of their first parties that summer, Dori was sent to the door to hear her tirade, and how that woman could nag! He had been so hungover that every word and every wave of sound that came with it felt like the blow of a hammer on his forehead. He shuddered at the recollection, especially at how it had all endedhe had to push the woman out of the way to put his head outside the door and vomit. Understandably she was not impressed, but Harald managed to appease her that evening. For the rest of the summer, Dori had to keep a low profile whenever he visited. But the other party guests thought the story was hilarious when Dori finally managed to crawl back up to recount it.

His mobile rang. Dori took it from his pocket and saw on the screen that it was Marta Mistagain. This time he answered. "What?"

"You done?" Impatient and irritable. "We're waiting for you, come over."

"Where?" Dori didn't feel like facing anyone at the moment. He just wanted to go home and lie down but knew he wouldn't have the chance. Marta Mist would phone again and again, and she would come by in the end if he did not answer. Best to get it over and done with.

"101hurry up." She hung up and Dori quickened his pace even more. It was cold outside and he was exhausted. Before he knew it he was in the hotel lobby, shaking off the drifting snow that had gathered on his hair on the way. He ran his fingers through his hair, then shook his head again. Then he opened the door and went in. Naturally they were sitting in the smoking sectionwith a few cups of coffee and one glass of beer in front of them. Suddenly, Dori felt an uncontrollable craving for a beer. He went over to them and sat down in a chair, even though Marta Mist and Briet had shifted apart to make room for him between them. He could not bear the thought of sitting pressed up against them at the moment.