Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Last Rituals

"Well, I have his number somewhere," Thorgrimur said, much calmer than they were. "I suppose the best thing is if I call him and talk to him firstgive him the rundown. He can contact you afterward."

Thorgrimur went behind the counter, produced a notebook and flicked through it. Then he reached for the telephone and dialed a number, taking care not to let them see it. A short while passed before he started speakingonly to leave a voice mail message.

"Sorry. He didn't answer. He's bound to call as soon as he gets the messagemaybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day."

Making no attempt to conceal their disappointment, Thora and Matthew gave Thorgrimur their cards. She asked him to let them know the moment he got in touch with Pall. He gladly agreed and put their cards inside his notebook. "What about that friend of yoursdid you want to know why he was here?" he said when he had finished.

"Yes, certainly," Thora replied. "Did anything besides the manuscripts interest him or did he mention that he was looking for anything?"

"It was mainly the manuscripts, if I recall correctly," Thorgrimur said, thinking back. "Actually he made me an offer to buy the sacrificial bowl in here, but I couldn't tell if he was joking."

"Sacrificial bowl? What sacrificial bowl?" Matthew asked.

"Follow meit's just inside." They followed him into a small room where a stone bowl was in a display case in the center. "This is a bowl that was used during sacrificesit was found nearby and the police forensics team has confirmed that there are traces of blood in it. Centuries old as it turns out."

"That's a hell of a lump of rock," exclaimed Thora. "Couldn't they have made do with a wooden one?" The stone artifact had to weigh at least several pounds. It had been hollowed out to make the middle concave.

"So it's not for sale, then?" Matthew asked.

"No, definitely not. It's the only original exhibit at this museum, and I don't have the authority to sell the objects here anyway."

Thora peered at the stone. Could this be the object that Harald had coveted? It seemed unlikely, but stranger things had come to light during their investigation. "This is definitely the same stone?"

"What do you mean?" Thorgrimur asked in surprise.

"Well, I was just wondering if the director could have taken Harald at his word, sold him the stone bowl, and had another made to replace it?"

Thorgrimur smiled. "Not a chance. It's the same stone that's always been here. I'd bet my head on it." He turned round and left the room, with them in hot pursuit. "As I saidhe just mentioned it casually."

"But was there anything else he said or asked about?" Thora asked. "Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Well, as I said he was mainly interested in the old sorcery books and manuscripts," Thorgrimur repeated. "He did ask me about The Witches' Hammer, if I'd ever heard or seen anything about an old edition of it in Iceland. I'd never heard such a story and told him so. Maybe you don't know what I'm talking about?" He looked at them.

"Oh, yes. We've heard of it," Matthew answered for them both.

"I asked him what he based his claim on and he said that some old letters suggested a copy found its way to Iceland."

The stately approach to the main building of the University of Iceland was in a league of its own when compared with other local buildings. Briet admired the view as she sat on the steps of the crescent-shaped driveway. For some reason she suddenly wanted to own a car. But that was out of the question on her pittance of a student loanshe'd love to meet the miser who calculated the cost of living it was supposed to meet.

It would be nice to finish her course and start workingnot that historians were big earners. If she wanted money she was in the wrong field. So she yearned to sink her claws into a good provider, as her elder sister had done when she married a lawyer. He worked for one of the big banks and was rolling in money. Her sister lived a life of luxury. Now they were building a huge house on the outskirts of the city and her sister, a political science graduate, worked mornings in one of the ministries and could play around shopping for the rest of the day.

Briet leaned up against Dori's side; he was sitting next to her. He was so handsome, a great guy reallyand, to top it off, doctors generally did very well for themselves.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked as he threw a snowball he had been busy making.

"Oh, I don't know," Briet answered wearily. "Hugi, mainly."

Dori followed the snowball's trajectory as it soared high into the air and landed right beside the statue of Saemundur the Wise and the seal. "He was a sorcerer," Dori said. "Did you know that?"

"Who?" Briet said in surprise. "Hugi?"

"No, Saemundur the Wise."

"Oh, him. Yes, of course I knew."

Dori gazed at the statue of the sorcerer beating a seal over the head with a prayer book. According to legend the seal was actually the devil himself, in disguise. It was a strange statue to put in front of a university, and Dori had long been fascinated with it.

Briet took a pack of cigarettes out of her bag. "Want one? Your favorite brand." She smirked as she handed him the white packet.

Dori smiled back at her as he looked up from the packet. "No, thanks. I've got some." He took one of his own and they both lit up. He leaned forward so that Briet had to take her hand off his shoulder. "What a mess."

"Tell me about it." Unsure of the best reply, Briet decided to play safe. She did not want him to do anything stupid that would have bad repercussions for her, and of course for him too. But she also wanted to show him that she had more understanding and integrity than Marta Mist.

"I'm sick of this bullshit." He stared straight ahead and thought a moment before continuing. "The other students here are totally different from us."

"I know," Briet said. "We're not exactly typical university students. I'm fed up with it too." She had no idea what they were talking about.

Dori went on talking and Briet had the impression he had not been listening to what she said. "What really strikes me most is that the other studentswho aren't always going out and partyingseem just as happy with life as we are. If anything, more satisfied."

Briet took her chance. She put her arm over Dori's shoulder and pressed her face toward his. "I've been thinking exactly the same thing. We've gone too far; if Andri and the others want to keep on, they can do it without me. I'm going to get a grip on myself, on my studies and everything really. It's no fun anymore." She had deliberately avoided mentioning Marta Mist by name for fear of giving herself away.

"That's funnyI kind of feel the same way." He turned to her and grinned. "We're not so different, you and me."

Briet gave him a peck on the cheek. "We're a good team. Forget the others."

"Not Hugi," said Dori, and his smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"No, of course not him," she hurried to say. "I'm always thinking about himhow do you reckon he feels?"

"Awful. I can't take this anymore."

"What?" Briet was afraid to askshe would have preferred to make a guess at what he meant, but she wasn't sure she'd get it right and she didn't want to spoil the way things were going.

Dori started to get to his feet. "I'll give that lawyer a couple more daysthen I'm going to the police. I don't give a shit what happens."

Damn. Briet desperately tried to think of a way to make Dori see some senseshe would even have gladly handed him over to Marta Mist, had she been there with them. "Dori, you didn't kill Harald, did you? You were at Kaffibrennslan, weren't you?"

He stood up and looked down at her, his expression far from pleasant. "Yes, I was at Kaffibrennslan. Where were you?" He walked away.