“Youleavethisland？“shesaid。“Thatmeansthatyouleaveme，wholoveyou，togoforthastheWandererwent——followingadreamtotheSouth。Well，itisbestthatyoushouldgo，forwhatevertheyhavepromisedyoubutnow，itissurethatthepriestswillkillyou，evenifyouescapethevengeanceofthegod。“Andshelookedaskanceattheshatteredstatuewhichhadsatinitsplaceforsomanygenerationsthatnoneknewwhohadsetitthere，orwhen。
“Ihavekilledthegod，“Ianswered，pointingtothecrushedviper。
“Notquite，Olaf，for，see，itstailstillmoves。“
Thenshewent，leavingmealone。IsatmyselfdownbythemurderedSteinar，andstaredathim。Couldhebereallydead，Iwondered，ordidheliveonelsewhere？MyfaithhadtaughtmeofaplacecalledValhallawherebravemenwent，butinthatfaithanditsgodsI
believednomore。ThisValhallawasbutachild’stale，inventedbyabloody-mindedfolkwholovedslaughter。WhereverSteinarandtheotherswere，itwasnotinValhalla。Then，perhaps，theysleptlikethebeastsdoafterthesehavebeenbutchered。Perhapsdeathwastheendofall。Itmightbeso，andyetIdidnotbelieveit。TherewereothergodsbesidesOdinandhiscompany，forwhatwerethosewhichwehadfoundintheWanderer’stomb？Ilongedtoknow。