Thruor shook her head. “You couldn’t do much without killing yourself.”

 

“I think that’s Surtur’s plan. Use the apples to super boost himself and then…”

 

She frowned. “Except that the theft would start Ragnarok, I don’t think I’d actually have a problem with that.”

 

I certainly wasn’t dying permanently to save Muspelheim. Except as a last resort craziness. “I don’t think I would either. But then, I might just be a bit biased against him.”

 

In all honestly, yes, I was. Hugely biased against him. I wouldn’t mourn his death.

 

“But he wants you…and not just to help him with the theft.”

 

“To be somebody maybe all of the factions can support so his death won’t start another war and undo everything he did.” I sighed. “You know, maybe if he’d come to me with this and maybe if we could…”

 

“…trust Odin not to be stubborn.”

 

“But I don’t want to be a queen anyway.”

 

“Sure about that?” There was a slight twinkle in Thruor’s eyes.

 

“Positive. I don’t think I’d be all that good at it.”

 

“You might be surprised. In any case? I can warn Idun.”

 

“Don’t ask why she was throwing apple cores at Loki.”

 

Thruor laughed. “I don’t need to ask.”

 

“No more than I do, but, ya know, I can only handle hearing about my father’s sexual shenanigans so much.”

 

“Yeah, I can imagine it gets…awkward.”

 

Awkward was one word for it. On the other hand, I’d asked him to…well…we were never going to have a normal father-daughter relationship. I supposed the best I could hope for was a reasonably healthy one.

 

Which it was right now. “In any case…so, it wouldn’t really work as a time-buying option.”

 

“Not really. You might slow things down a bit, but not by more than a couple of years if they’re as bad as they seem to be.”

 

“So, we need another source of fire. Could the dwarves do something?”

 

“Dwarves make things. I suppose they could make a gem or jewel to transport fire from somewhere else that you could release,” Thruor mused. “But we don’t have a good source.”

 

“Okay. So, how was the fire made in the first place?” And I thought there was a source, just not one we could get to.

 

“Part of the creation of the Nine Realms.”

 

“So, a one off thing, supposed to last until Ragnarok.”

 

“Supposed to last a long time yet,” Thruor admitted. “There’s one entity that might have a clue.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Ratatosk.”

 

I choked. “The squirrel?”

 

“The squirrel. He talks to Yggdrasil and stands at the foundation of the realms. And talking to him isn’t the problem.”

 

“What is?”

 

“Getting him to stop talking.”