Midnight Sun by Jo Nesbø

nomadic Sámi are that bow-legged, not seagoing Sámi.’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜And you’re . . .’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜So what is he, then? A priest?’
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜What sort of hellish brew is that?’ I asked, handing him the hip flask.
    â€˜
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.
    â€˜Now, now, Ulf,’ Kornelius said in a low voice. ‘Let her do a reading for you, but nothing more.’
    â€˜A reading?’
    â€˜Second sight. She’s a real shaman. But you don’t want what she wants.’
    â€˜And that is?’
    â€˜You can see that from here.’
    â€˜Hmm. Why not? Is she married? Engaged?’
    â€˜No, but you don’t want what she’s got.’
    â€˜Got?’
    â€˜Has and spreads.’
    I nodded slowly.
    He put his hand on my shoulder.
    â€˜But have fun. Kornelius isn’t one to gossip.’
    He turned towards the girl. ‘Hi, Anita!’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜Hi,’ I said.
    She didn’t reply, just inspected me from top to toe.
    I shifted my weight.
    â€˜Do you want me?’ she asked.
    I shook my head.
    â€˜Why not?’
    I shrugged my shoulders.
    â€˜You look like a healthy specimen of a man. What’s wrong?’
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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,