Eivor sat at the tavern bar, the candlelight giving her a friendly aura. She peered at her empty cup as her brother spoke. “…and that was extraordinary, wouldn’t you agree?” Sigurd grinned. Eivor nodded, her gaze wandering the room. “When will your friend arrive? I’m bored and drunk.” she replied, ignoring his question. “Soon,” he said, then exclaimed, “Speak of the devil!”