"A simple order, for Siggen." The fat man had his vanity. "Give me a day to plan it. You have my word."
"Can I depend on it?"
"Men have said many things about Siggen, but never that his word was not good."
"Then it's settled," Ostby said. "I'll be back tomorrow."
"Just a minute before you go." The old man unclasped his puffy hands. "You are an unusual man and you intrigue me. Would you mind telling me your name?"
"Not at all. It's James Ostby."
"Ostby ... Ostby ..." the fat man pondered slowly. Then his head came up. "The Berserker!" he said. He whistled low, under his breath. "Tell me," he said, "why have we never met before. Or, if not, why are we meeting now?"
Ostby shrugged. "Perhaps because I have little confidence in others."
"You do have the reputation of being a lone wolf." Siggen remarked slowly. "After this business is over I'd be glad to consider consolidating our, ah, talents. We could go far together."
"You offer me this when you know me so little?"