Litany of Winter

By the time Silverlight appeared beyond the carriage window, Severin’s left knee had stiffened almost straight.

He had slept badly in pieces, waking whenever the train jolted through a junction or somebody opened the compartment door. The countryside had changed while he wasn’t looking. Flat fields had given way to low hills and denser towns. Now rows of slate roofs were sliding past beneath a pale afternoon sky.

Hans stood and pulled the leather case down from the rack.

”Come on. We don’t have long.”

Severin planted his right foot and pushed himself upright. The bad leg followed slowly. Pain tightened behind the kneecap before it finally straightened enough to hold him.

”Could’ve mentioned that sooner.”

”You were sleeping like a child. Didn’t want to wake you.”

Severin muttered something under his breath and reached for the brass rail as the train began to slow.

Silverlight station was smaller than Blackhaven’s, but Severin knew none of its layout. Porters moved between heaps of luggage. Painted boards hung above the platforms with arrows toward exits and connections he did not recognize. He could read every word and still had no idea which one mattered.

Hans knew which stairway they needed without stopping to read twice. He found the cab rank just as easily, ignored two drivers and chose a third, then gave the man an address near the harbor that meant nothing to Severin.

Severin eased himself onto the seat after him. ”You’ve been here before?”

”Several times. Fastest crossing to the Empire.”

The ride to the waterfront took them through streets Severin had never seen and had no reason to remember. Brick buildings packed closer together as they neared the harbor, with warehouses crowding the lower roads. Masts and cargo cranes rose beyond the rooftops. Severin smelled the salt before he saw open water.

Hans paid the driver and headed toward a long brick passenger building beside the quay.

Inside, people stood in several queues beneath painted signs. One led to ticket windows, another to a desk where a clerk copied names into a ledger. Hans joined the line at the ledger desk without hesitating.

Severin leaned against the wall beside him and watched the clerk work through the queue, trying to work out what would be expected when they reached the desk.

When their turn came, Hans gave both names. The clerk asked two questions, Hans answered them, and money changed hands. A line was added to the ledger.

Severin watched the pen move. ”What was that?”

”Passenger register.”

”Why do they need our names?”

”For the ship’s manifest.” Hans looked at him for a moment. ”Keep your head down.”

The clerk handed over two tickets and pointed toward the quay doors.

The ship was already taking passengers aboard. Severin made it halfway up the gangway before the boards shifted beneath his feet and his left knee threatened to fold. His right hand closed around the rope rail, but the little finger lagged behind the others. He swore and changed hands.

Hans stopped above him. ”I’ve got it.”

”I can handle myself,” Severin muttered.

Severin climbed the rest without looking down.

They found seats inside the passenger saloon, where Hans put the case beneath the bench and told Severin to keep the injured leg stretched out. Severin ignored him until the first hard roll of the ship pulled at the stitches in his abdomen. After that, he kept the leg stretched out.

The crossing took several days. By the first evening, the Aethermere coast had disappeared behind them.

Severin spent much of the voyage near a window, drinking bad tea and watching the gray water rise and fall beyond the glass. He still had not worked out whether looking at the horizon made the rolling better or worse. Hans read for a while. Later he spoke to one of the crewmen near the passage door.

The words changed, and Severin looked over.

Hans was speaking quickly in a language Severin could not follow. The crewman answered in the same one, pointed toward the forward end of the ship and left.

Hans sat back down.

”What’d he say?”

”We’re scheduled to dock at Westhold tomorrow morning.”

”Bloody hell. Could’ve warned me the crossing took this long.”

Hans smiled. ”You’ll survive.”

❈ ❈ ❈

Westhold made Silverlight seem simple.

Sea walls enclosed the gray military harbor, with signal masts rising above customs roofs blackened by engine smoke. Imperial soldiers watched the quay. Inside the landing hall, every sign was in Vhaldrik.

Hans moved through it as if he had stepped into another Blackhaven street.

At the first inspection desk, an official in a black uniform with red accents looked at Hans’s documents, then turned to Severin.

He asked something, and Severin waited.

The man repeated it, slower this time.

”Sorry. I don’t understand.”

Hans answered in Vhaldrik.

The official looked back at Severin, then spoke to Hans again. Their exchange continued while Severin stood between the desk and a line of passengers building behind him. He hated that more than he expected.

They were talking about him. The official glanced over once, and Severin heard his own name. Hans could have been explaining his injuries or calling him an idiot. For all Severin knew, he was agreeing to have him arrested.

The official held out one hand toward Severin.

Hans switched back to Aethermerian. ”He wants your travel papers. Keep quiet and let me handle this.”

Hans turned back and answered in Vhaldrik. The official replied without lowering his hand.

Then Hans opened his coat and touched the metal pin fixed near his lapel. The open eye within the jagged crown caught the light.

The official studied the pin for a moment, then lowered his hand. After one last question and a brief answer from Hans, he took a stamp from beside the ledger, pressed it onto one of Hans’s papers and motioned them through.

Severin waited until they were clear of the desk. ”What the hell did you tell him?”

”That you’re travelling with me.”

”That all?” Severin looked back. The next passenger was already at the desk. ”What about the badge?”

”The Order’s insignia.”

”He knows about the Order?”

Hans adjusted the leather case in his hand. ”He knows enough to mind his own business.”

Severin looked at the pin again. It had opened doors in Blackhaven and apparently worked here too.

They crossed another hall and emerged into the port district. Hans headed for the imperial rail office without slowing, and Severin stayed close behind.

Inside the station, Severin’s lack of education became harder to hide.

Departure boards covered most of one wall. Severin found KRONVAAL after a moment, but everything printed beneath it was useless to him.

Hans bought the tickets at a window Severin would not have chosen on his own. When Hans asked a porter something in Vhaldrik, Severin paid attention to where the man pointed.

A bell rang somewhere beyond the booking hall. Half the room seemed to know what it meant, so Severin watched which passengers started moving.

”Hold these.”

Hans put the two tickets into his hand and stepped toward a nearby counter where another clerk was arguing with a woman over a trunk.

Severin looked down at the tickets. One had KRONVAAL printed across it beneath the Empire’s black-and-red double eagle, with numbers below the name and two shorter lines he could not read.

He turned it over. More Vhaldrik. Thirty yards away, the platform boards stood above the passage.

If Hans disappeared into the crowd, Severin could probably find the right train eventually. With a good leg and enough time, he could have stopped someone and asked in Aethermerian.

He had none of those things. A porter passed carrying two cases while Severin turned the ticket over again, trying to make something useful out of it.

When Hans returned, Severin held out the ticket. ”What does this bit say?”

Hans followed his finger. ”Second class.”

”And that?”

”Platform four.”

Severin looked toward the boards. ”Which word means platform?”

Hans pointed it out.

Severin read the unfamiliar word twice in his head, matching it to the sign above the passage.

”Right.”

Hans took his ticket back. ”Planning to abandon me?”

”Not yet.”

The next train to Kronvaal did not leave until late afternoon. They reached platform four a few minutes before departure.

The train waiting there was longer than the one from Blackhaven. Hans found their carriage while Severin paid attention to the painted number beside the door. He climbed aboard carefully, leading with the right leg and refusing help until the last step forced him to catch Hans’s sleeve.

By the time he sat, the muscles above his left knee were trembling.

Hans pushed the case onto the rack and dropped into the opposite seat.

”Still enjoying the journey?”

”Yeah. Best day of my life.”

”Oh, we’re only getting started.”

Severin laughed once and immediately pressed a hand to his abdomen. ”Bastard.”

Hans looked pleased with himself.

The train left Westhold under a sky already beginning to darken. Hans told him they would not reach Kronvaal until morning.

For the first hour, Severin tried to follow the stations, matching names on the signs to what he heard announced. Hans corrected him when he got the Vhaldrik numbers wrong.

The farther inland they went, the less Aethermerian he heard.

At one stop, a man entered their compartment, nodded to Hans and said something to Severin.

Severin looked at Hans.

”He said good evening.”

”How do I say it back?”

Hans gave him the words. Severin repeated them badly enough that the man smiled.

The man sat by the window and opened a newspaper.

Severin waited until Hans was looking elsewhere before studying the masthead. He could sound out parts of it in his head, but the words meant nothing.

Blackhaven had never required any of this.

A man could work, steal, fight, drink and disappear there without knowing what foreign officials wanted from him. Severin had known gang boundaries by street and which publicans would extend credit. He also knew the policemen who could be paid to forget a face.

Night settled outside the windows. The stations grew farther apart, and after a while Severin stopped trying to follow every one.

By the time the conductor came through again, gray morning light had begun to show beyond the windows. He checked their tickets and spoke to Hans. Severin caught nothing until one word came clear at the end. Kronvaal.

Hans stood and reached for the leather case.