Litany of Winter

The Order carriage was waiting in the lower court when the nine came down at first bell, its lamps still burning against the gray before dawn. Neumann stood beside the open door with a folded list and called each name before allowing anyone aboard.

Madeleine answered when he reached her. She looked worse than she had at dinner, pale beneath the courtyard lamps, but she was dressed and steady on her feet. Anna stayed close without touching her. She had told Severin that the healers examined Madeleine during the night and found nothing that would keep her from traveling.

Paul climbed in first and took in the two facing benches. ”This is smaller than I expected.”

”What, you don’t think we’ll all fit?” Martin asked.

”Might be a little cramped. We’ve spent the last month smelling one another anyway.”

Neumann glanced up from his list. ”If either of you plans to complain for the whole journey, I’ll put you beside the driver.”

Paul looked outside. ”How cold is it out there?”

”Get the fuck in.”

Severin followed Martin aboard. Neumann took the place nearest the door with the folded list tucked inside his coat. By the time he pulled the door shut, Kronvaal was only beginning to emerge beyond the court walls. The carriage rolled out before the sun had cleared the eastern rooftops.

Paul filled most of the first hour himself. He wanted to know whether the northern road stayed this bad the whole way and whether Gravewatch had its own kitchens. At some point he also asked if anyone had ever been sick in an Order carriage. Johann answered two of those questions more seriously than they deserved. Rafael sat opposite Severin with his coat buttoned to the throat, listening more than speaking. Thomas watched Kronvaal thin beyond the glass.

The outer districts gave way to farms. Frozen fields stretched beside the road, broken by low stone walls and stands of bare trees. Old snow lay gray in the ditches where the weak sun could not reach it.

By late morning the farms had spread farther apart. Johann checked his watch whenever they passed a milestone and once compared the time against something written in the small notebook he carried. Andreas slept for part of the climb. When the road turned rough, Anna offered Madeleine water. Madeleine quietly refused, and Anna put the flask away without asking again.

Paul was still talking after midday, although the pauses had grown longer.

”Could this road get any worse?” Paul asked after one hard jolt. ”I’d take the train back.”

”There’s no train here, dumbass,” Rafael said.

”I know. I’m just making conversation.”

Severin looked across at Martin. ”He’s going to miss this.”

Martin had been watching the trees. ”What, the road?”

”The sound of his own voice.”

Paul heard him and gave Severin a rude gesture. That bought another few minutes of conversation.

The forest closed around the road as the afternoon faded. Pine replaced most of the bare woodland, dark trunks rising close on either side while the carriage climbed through old snow and frozen ruts. They passed one timber cart heading south and, later, a farmhouse set well back among the trees. After that Severin saw no one.

Thomas kept his attention on the window. Madeleine had one hand beneath her collar, fingers resting around the Eternal Ring. Anna noticed and said nothing.

Johann checked his watch again, and this time Paul did not ask him the time.

Near dusk, the road bent through a cut in the ridge and the trees opened onto the valley, with Gravewatch lying below them.

Low walls of dark stone sat beneath a steep slate roof. Narrow slits showed beneath the eastern eaves instead of ordinary windows. Forest crowded both ridgelines and stopped short of the building, leaving a strip of bare ground around the walls where the snow had melted away. Warmth lifted from the stone into the cold air. Severin could see no chimney smoke.

He had heard the name for a month. The building was smaller than he had imagined.

The carriage descended the last stretch of road and stopped before a pair of iron doors broad enough for stretcher bearers to pass side by side. Neumann climbed down first. When Severin stepped onto the frozen ground, his legs had gone stiff from the ride. Meltwater darkened the stone immediately around the entrance, though the road behind them had already begun to freeze again.

Paul stood beside the carriage and stared up at the roof. He had nothing to say about the cold.

Inside, the first room was barely more than an antechamber. Hooks lined one wall for coats, and the stone beneath them had been worn smooth by years of boots. Neumann led them through into a long hall where candles burned in iron sconces. The air smelled of wax and something sharper and herbal that reminded Severin of the healing rooms.

Concentric lines had been cut across the floor from wall to wall. Symbols ran through them in bands too old or too strange for him to read. Every line was dark.

A surgeon stood near the inner door with two assistants, all three already working around covered trays and folded linen. Glass bottles and metal basins had been arranged along one table. A second woman stood at a smaller table checking the contents of an old iron box. She raised her head when Neumann brought the nine in.

”This is Maeve,” Neumann said. ”She’ll conduct the pact.”

Maeve closed the box. ”I assume they’ve all been briefed?”

”They have.”

”Good. We may proceed.”

That was all she seemed to need from them.

Neumann did not keep them in the hall. He led the nine to the far stair and down into a circular chamber beneath the building. Severin counted roughly ten paces from one wall to the other. A stone slab occupied the center, with an iron stand fixed at its head.

Names covered the walls.

The higher rows held survivors, some cut deep enough that the letters had softened at the edges with age. The oldest lettering was broad and uneven; newer names had been made with finer tools. Below them another field of names ran closer together along the stone. Severin stopped trying to read them individually. Neumann did not need to explain the lower rows.

Severin walked around the slab once. The stone was bare. There were no straps, chains, cuffs, or even iron fittings where restraints might once have been attached.

Thomas stopped on the opposite side and examined the edges of the slab. His attention stayed there a moment before he moved on.

Maeve came down behind them carrying the iron box. She set it on the stand at the head of the slab and opened it.

Black velvet lined the inside. A narrow blade rested across it, no longer than Severin’s thumb. Three signs had been engraved into the flat of the steel: ♂, ♄, and 🜔.

Maeve lifted the blade by its handle, turning it once under the chamber lamps before she returned it to the box. The lid shut with a small metal click.

Neumann waited until everyone was facing him.

”Your training as Initiates ends here. You know the risks, so I’m not going to give you another lecture.” Neumann looked over the group. ”May Vhazroth take an interest in you.”

Somewhere above them, metal clinked softly as one of the assistants moved through the hall.

”This is also your last chance to withdraw. If you want out, say it now.”

The chamber stayed quiet while Neumann waited.

Madeleine’s thumb moved once over the edge of the ring beneath her collar. Rafael kept his hands at his sides while Thomas returned his attention to the slab.

Nobody withdrew.

”All right,” Neumann said. ”The order was set before we left Kronvaal.”

He unfolded the paper he had carried since morning.

”Paul Weber. Rafael Montoro. Johann Peters. Anna Richter. Andreas Hoffmann. Madeleine LeBlanc. Thomas Bennett. Martin Keller. Severin Hale.”

His own name ended the list. Eight people would go before him.

Paul opened his mouth, managed ”Well,” and left it there.

Martin leaned slightly toward Severin. ”Last two. At least we’ll get to see how the odds are looking.”

Severin glanced at the stone slab. ”That helps.”

Neumann folded the list again. Severin gave the names on the lower wall one more glance, then followed the others back upstairs.

The surgeon was waiting in the hall. ”Paul Weber.”

At his name, Paul stopped near the bottom of the stair. For a second he seemed ready with something clever. Instead he crossed the hall toward her.

Neumann caught him before he reached the inner door. ”Paul.”

Paul turned.

”Good luck.”

He glanced at the closed door behind the surgeon, then back at Neumann. ”Thanks. I’ll need it.”

The surgeon took Paul through the inner door, and when it shut behind them, eight remained in the hall.

By the time darkness filled the slit windows, the candles nearest the eastern wall had burned noticeably lower. An assistant crossed the hall twice with folded linen and once with a metal basin. Johann checked his watch only once. Martin sat on the edge of a bench and stopped pretending to be comfortable.

Without Paul in the room, Severin began noticing every small sound the others made.

When the inner door opened, the surgeon stepped into the hall. ”The candidate is ready. He will walk the hall alone.”

Paul came through behind her wearing a long shift of undyed linen tied at the throat. It fell almost to his ankles. His feet were bare, and his hair had been combed back from his face.

Without the gray Initiate clothes, he seemed younger.

Paul had found something to say about nearly every room they had entered for the past month. He said nothing now.

The surgeon stepped aside, and Paul crossed the hall.

His bare feet made a soft sound against the stone as he passed the dark concentric script. He kept his eyes ahead. At the far end, he paused at the stair long enough to find the first step before descending out of sight.

Maeve waited until he was gone before following with the iron box. The surgeon and her assistants went after her.

Neumann remained in the hall with the eight while the last assistant disappeared down the stairs.

The lines beneath Severin’s boots remained dark.