Jo Nesbo - Midnight Sun

Then I left.

Even if the wind was gusty, there was something heavy in the air that seemed to press at my temples. As if there was thunder on the way. Maybe the celebrations were already over. The drink finished. The available women taken. But as I got closer I heard the same drums I’d heard two days before. I walked past the church towards the jetty. Followed the sound.

I turned off the road and headed east, up onto a hill. Before me a stony grey desert of a headland stretched out towards a steel-blue sea. At the neck of the headland, immediately below me, lay a flat, well-trodden patch of ground, and that was where they were dancing. A large fire was burning alongside a five- or six-metre-high obelisk-like rock that stuck up from the ground. Around it lay two circles of smaller stones. There wasn’t any real symmetry to the stones, no recognisable pattern, but they still looked like the foundations of a building that had never been finished. Or rather a building site that had decayed, been demolished or torched. I walked down towards them.

‘Hello!’ yelled a tall, fair-haired youth in a Sámi jacket who was having a piss on the heather at the edge of the clearing. ‘Who are you?’

‘Ulf.’

‘The southerner! Better late than never — welcome!’ He shook his cock, scattering drops in all direction, stuffed it back in his trousers and held out his hand. ‘Kornelius, Mattis’s second cousin! Oh, yes.’

I was reluctant to take his hand.

‘So that’s the cod-liver-oil stone,’ I said. ‘Is it a ruined temple?’

‘Transteinen?’ Kornelius shook his head. ‘No, Beaive-Vuolab threw it there.’

‘Really? And who’s that then?’

‘A pretty strong Sámi. A demigod, maybe. No, quarter! A quarter-god.’

‘Hmm. And why do quarter-gods chuck rocks here?’

‘Why does anyone chuck heavy rocks? To prove that they can, of course!’ He laughed. ‘Why didn’t you come earlier, Ulf? The party’s almost over now.’

‘I got it wrong, I thought the wedding was in the church.’

‘What, with that superstitious lot?’ He pulled out a hip flask. ‘Mattis is better at marrying people than those thin-blooded Lutherans.’

‘Really? So which gods is it done in the name of, then?’ I peered towards the fires and a long table. A girl in a green dress had stopped dancing and was looking at me curiously. Even from a distance I could tell she had a fine figure.

‘Gods? No gods, he marries them in the name of the Norwegian state.’

‘Is he authorised to do that?’

‘Oh, yes. He’s one of three people in the district who are.’ Kornelius raised a clenched fist and unfolded his fingers one by one: ‘The priest, the deputy judge, and the ship’s captain.’

‘Wow. So Mattis is a ship’s captain as well?’

‘Mattis?’ Kornelius laughed and took a swig from the hip flask. ‘Does he look like a seagoing Sámi? Have you seen him walk? No, Eliassen senior’s the captain, and he can only marry people on board his boats, and no women have ever set foot on one. Oh, yes.’

‘So what do you mean, have I seen Mattis walk?’

‘Only nomadic Sámi are that bow-legged, not seagoing Sámi.’

‘Really?’

‘Fish.’ He passed me the hip flask. ‘They don’t eat fish inland on the plateau. So they don’t get enough iodine. They get soft bones.’ He stuck his knees out by way of illustration.

‘And you’re...’

‘Fake Sámi. My father was from Bergen, but don’t tell anyone. Especially not my mother.’

He laughed, and I couldn’t help joining in. The drink tasted even worse than the stuff I’d got from Mattis.

‘So what is he, then? A priest?’

‘Almost,’ Kornelius said. ‘He went off to Oslo to study theology. But then he lost his faith. So he switched to law. He worked as a deputy judge in Tromsø for three years. Oh, yes.’

‘No offence, Kornelius, but unless I’m badly mistaken, something like eighty per cent of what you’ve told me is either lies or fantasy.’

He adopted a hurt expression. ‘Hell, no. First Mattis lost his faith in God. Then he lost his faith in the legal system. And now the only thing he believes in is alcohol content, or so he says.’ Kornelius laughed loudly and slapped my back so hard that the drink almost came back up again. Which might actually have been a good thing.

‘What sort of hellish brew is that?’ I asked, handing him the hip flask.

‘ Reikas ,’ he said. ‘Fermented reindeer milk.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘But the youth of today only want fizzy drinks and cola. Snow-scooters and hotdogs. Proper spirits, sledges and reindeer meat, all that will soon be gone. We’re going to the dogs. Oh, yes.’ He took a consoling swig from the flask before screwing the lid on. ‘Ah, here comes Anita.’

I watched the girl in the green dress walk towards us, apparently rather aimlessly, and straightened up automatically.

‘Now, now, Ulf,’ Kornelius said in a low voice. ‘Let her do a reading for you, but nothing more.’

‘A reading?’

‘Second sight. She’s a real shaman. But you don’t want what she wants.’

‘And that is?’

‘You can see that from here.’

‘Hmm. Why not? Is she married? Engaged?’

‘No, but you don’t want what she’s got.’

‘Got?’

‘Has and spreads.’

I nodded slowly.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

‘But have fun. Kornelius isn’t one to gossip.’

He turned towards the girl. ‘Hi, Anita!’

‘Goodbye, Kornelius.’

He laughed and walked off. The girl stopped in front of me, smiling with her mouth closed. Sweaty and still out of breath from dancing. She had two angry red pimples on her forehead, pupils the size of pinpricks, and wild eyes that spoke for themselves. Dope, probably speed.

‘Hi,’ I said.

She didn’t reply, just inspected me from top to toe.

I shifted my weight.

‘Do you want me?’ she asked.

I shook my head.

‘Why not?’

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘You look like a healthy specimen of a man. What’s wrong?’

‘I understand that you can tell things like that about people.’

She laughed. ‘Did Kornelius say that? Oh, yes, Anita can see things. And she saw that you were keen enough a few moments ago. What happened, did you get scared?’

‘It’s not you, it’s me, I’ve got a touch of syphilis.’

When she laughed, I could see why she smiled without showing her teeth. ‘I’ve got rubbers.’

‘More than a touch, actually. My cock’s fallen off.’

She came a step closer. Put her hand on my crotch. ‘It doesn’t feel like it. Come on, I live behind the church.’

I shook my head and took a firm grip of her wrist.

‘Fucking southerners,’ she hissed, and snatched her hand away from me. ‘What’s so wrong about a quick fuck? We’re all going to die soon, didn’t you know?’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard the rumours,’ I said, and looked round for a suitable escape route.

‘You don’t believe me,’ she said. ‘Look at me. Look at me, I said!’

I looked at her.

She smiled. ‘Oh, yes, Anita saw right. You’ve got death in your eyes. Don’t turn away! Anita can see you’re going to shoot the reflection. Yes, shoot the reflection.’

A small alarm had gone off inside my head. ‘What fucking southerners are you talking about?’

‘You, of course.’

‘Which other southerners?’

‘He didn’t say what his name was.’ She took my hand. ‘But now I’ve read you, now you can—’

I pulled free. ‘What did he look like?’

‘Wow, you really are scared.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Why’s it so important?’