[he takes the images in his hand, going through them just once (it was all the time he had) trying to commit it to memory. he tosses them behind him and stands in the center of the circle, steadying his breath.]

All right, let's do this. Please, please work.

[he begins speaking again, but it's not English. it's some dialect of Norse that probably hasn't been used for a few hundred years. the lines by his feet begin to glow, panning out slowly outward as he continues his chat. the runes lift from the chalk in a dim green light.

around him the nine circles around him crackle to life and Loki swoons a bit.]

So where to, first? The last one, most likely. That's where he'll be.