Litany of Winter

The packets were waiting on the long table when the nine reported on the morning before Gravewatch.

They were thicker than the training forms Severin had spent the past month learning to hate. Each had a name written across the front and a strip of red paper tucked beneath the cord. A clerk from records stood behind them with an open ledger.

”Check the entries already filled in before you add anything,” he said. ”If one’s wrong, strike it once and write the correction beside it. And don’t leave a required field blank. If it’s blank, we treat it as unanswered.”

He lifted one packet, loosening the cord before he turned to the final sheet.

”If the answer’s none, write none. If it’s already there, initial it. You can still withdraw until the ritual starts. Last page is where you confirm whether you’re going through with it.”

Nobody asked him to repeat that part.

The clerk passed the packets around the table one by one. Johann opened his before the clerk finished sitting down. Rafael read the first page from top to bottom, then turned it over and began checking dates. Paul counted the enclosed sheets twice.

Severin pulled his packet closer and untied the cord.

Most of the first page had been copied from the intake forms he filled out weeks earlier. Name, age, place of birth, current assignment. The clerk had marked two lines in blue pencil where Severin’s writing had been hard to read.

Martin leaned over from the next place. ”Not bad, Hale. It’s almost readable.”

”Fuck off, Martin.”

”Hey. I was trying to be nice.”

Severin shoved his elbow away and kept reading.

The next sheet dealt with notification if he died during Gravewatch.

NEXT OF KIN: NONE RECORDED.

A small box had been drawn beside the line for confirmation, and Severin paused over it before putting his initials inside.

Below that, the space for the person to be notified first was empty.

Severin dipped the pen again and wrote NONE.

Across the table, Anna had already filled half a page. At one line, she pulled a folded note from her pocket and checked the address before copying it carefully. Beside her, Johann used the edge of another sheet to keep his writing straight.

Paul raised a hand, and the clerk looked at him.

”Does the gear we’ve been issued go under personal effects?”

”No.”

”What about stuff I bought since I came to the temple?”

”If it belongs to you, then yes.”

Paul bent over his packet again. ”Right. Thanks.”

Thomas muttered, ”Glad we cleared that up.”

Paul ignored him and went back to his packet.

Severin turned to the property page and read through the first few lines.

There were spaces for outstanding pay and personal effects, followed by a line for the person or institution authorized to receive them. Farther down, other sections covered burial wishes and any debts or obligations that still needed settling. Outstanding pay and personal effects were easy enough. The recipient line took longer.

He wrote down the few things that were actually his and stopped before the recipient line.

Martin had reached the same section and was already writing.

”Who are you giving all your riches to?” Severin asked.

”My mother.”

Severin looked at him. ”I was joking. Do you actually have anything to give her?”

Martin kept writing. ”The boots alone could start a legal dispute.”

Severin glanced at his property list. ”You own less than I do.”

”That may be true, but I own better things.”

”Like what? Those two shirts that look exactly the same?”

”No, they don’t.”

”They’re both gray.”

Martin frowned at the page. ”Different grays.”

The clerk told them to verify listed property before returning the packets, so they carried the unfinished forms back toward the sleeping quarters. Severin went into his room while Martin continued down the corridor.

Severin had barely opened his locker when Martin appeared in the doorway with his own form.

The issued clothing did not count. Neither did the training gear stacked above it. He checked the few pieces that belonged to him against the form, then pulled the old boots Hans had bought him from the bottom.

Martin glanced over. ”You’re actually listing those?”

”Of course. They’re mine.”

”I know. I’m asking whether anyone would actually want them.”

Severin put the boots back. ”Your mother can have them too.”

”Hell no. She’s suffered enough already.”

Martin checked another line on his own form.

At the recipient line, Martin came to mind and stayed there long enough to irritate him.

If Martin died first, the clerk would have to ask the same question again. If Severin died first, Martin would be left with a pair of worn boots and whatever coins remained from his pay.

He left the line empty and carried the packet back, but the clerk noticed before Severin had taken two steps from the table.

”You left the recipient blank.”

”I don’t have one.”

”Then write none. Anything unclaimed goes through standard Order procedure.”

Severin wrote NONE on the packet before returning it to the clerk.

The clerk noted the correction in the margin and moved on to Paul.

Anna was sealing an envelope at the far end of the room, the flap already pressed flat. She checked the address once more before slipping it into her packet.

Johann had an envelope too. He finished his forms first, and the clerk inspected each page before placing the packet on the completed stack.

Paul came next, but the clerk stopped him. ”You missed an initial.”

The clerk let him stare at the packet for a moment before tapping a box near the bottom of the last sheet, where Paul added the missing initial.

Rafael’s packet required one correction to an estate instruction. After reading the clerk’s note, he changed the wording and signed beside it without argument. Andreas spent longer on the section covering what could be told outside the Order. He read the prefilled wording twice before accepting it.

Thomas reached the final page and stopped.

CONTINUATION OF CANDIDACY.

Severin’s packet carried the same heading, with two boxes beneath it.

Thomas rested the pen against the paper. Rafael was already signing his. Madeleine had folded her hands over her own packet while she read the page.

Nobody spoke while Thomas marked one box and signed. Severin followed.

The clerk collected the packets and tied the stack once with fresh cord. He wrote the cohort number across the top sheet before carrying them through the records door.

By dinner, Martin was claiming the hard cheese served with the stew and black bread could stop a knife.

Paul spent most of the meal arguing that the cheese was meant to be eaten in smaller pieces. Thomas told him the problem was not technique. Rafael asked for the salt and received it without comment.

Madeleine left most of her stew untouched.

”You all right?” Anna asked.

”Yeah. I’m just tired.”

Anna watched her for another second, then nodded.

By the time Severin finished, Madeleine had already left.

He and Martin stayed long enough to scrape their bowls and carry them to the wash counter. Martin worked at a piece of dried stew with the edge of a spoon.

”Your mother getting a letter?” Severin asked.

Martin glanced at him. ”Maybe.”

”Does that mean no?”

”It means maybe.”

Severin shook his head and started rinsing his bowl.

Martin dropped the spoon into the basin. ”What the fuck would I even write? Hello, Mother. I’ve joined a sect full of marked lunatics. There’s a fair chance I’ll be dead before this even reaches you.”

”Yeah. That does sound like you.”

”Exactly why I’m probably not writing it.”

Martin held Severin’s bowl toward the light. A smear remained near the rim.

”Not good. You missed a spot.”

Severin inspected it. ”Ah, fuck. I hate you, you know that?”

”I know.”

They finished washing and headed back toward the quarters.

Before they reached the stairs, a door opened farther down the corridor and Anna stepped out with one arm around Madeleine.

Madeleine was barefoot. Her hair had come loose on one side, and one hand was pressed hard against the Eternal Ring beneath her collar.

Rafael came from the other direction. ”What happened?”

”No idea. She woke up shouting,” Anna said. ”I was taking her to the healers.”

”I’m fine.” Madeleine pulled away enough to stand on her own. ”I was asleep.”

Her voice was still rough from shouting.

Anna turned toward Severin and Martin. ”Go on.”

Madeleine caught her sleeve. ”No. Please.”

Anna waited while Madeleine kept hold of her sleeve and glanced between the four of them.

”It’s just that I saw... something.”

Rafael rubbed his face. ”A nightmare?”

”I don’t know. Maybe.”

”What did you see?” Anna asked.

Madeleine pulled the Eternal Ring free of her collar and looked down at it.

”Total darkness. There were stars, but they were very far away.” She swallowed. ”There was a sun too. Enormous. I couldn’t even see all of it.”

Severin stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.

”Then something started spreading from it. Like wings, I think, but far too large. The light hurt my eyes, but I still kept looking.”

Martin stopped smiling as Madeleine’s thumb moved along the edge of the ring.

”There was a black shape in the center. Like a sunburst cut out of the light. When the voice came, it started twitching and pulsing.”

”What voice?” Rafael asked.

Madeleine took a moment. ”I don’t know. I don’t even remember the words.”

”You were dreaming,” Rafael said. ”That’s all.”

Madeleine turned to him. ”No. I know what a dream feels like. This wasn’t one.”

”We’ve all been thinking about the pact for days, Madeleine. Gravewatch is tomorrow. That gets into your head.”

Madeleine closed her hand around the ring. ”That’s not it. It was the Eternal.”

Severin had never been religious enough to believe in the Eternal the way Madeleine did. He had met plenty of zealots over the years who would have given their lives for their faith without hesitation.

Anna took Madeleine’s arm again. ”Healing wing. You can argue theology after someone looks you over.”

This time, Madeleine went without arguing, and Rafael stayed in the corridor to watch them leave.

Martin scratched at the back of his neck. ”Good night, then.”

Rafael turned toward him.

”What?”

”Nothing.”

They separated at the stairs.

Inside his room, Severin changed his shirt and checked his locker once more. The death packet was gone. The old boots were still at the bottom where he had left them.

Severin set his clothes out for morning and placed his current boots beside the bed.

The schedule card pinned inside the locker door had one line for the next day.

GRAVEWATCH. FIRST BELL.