Litany of Winter

Hans was halfway through a piece of bread when Severin sat opposite him.

He looked up. ”Well?”

Severin reached for the tea. ”Morning to you too.”

”You’ve had three days to think about it.”

”Couldn’t you wait until we finished breakfast?”

”I wish I could. The Order doesn’t like keeping visitors around.”

Severin poured himself a cup and watched the steam come off it. The answer had been easier before Hans asked for it. Last night he had gone over everything until he was sick of hearing himself think.

The place fed him and gave him a bed. Hans had handled the dead man’s apartment carefully, and Neumann had spent yesterday correcting people before bad habits became broken bones. There were books he could not read and people who might teach him what the marks on those freight crates had meant.

Blackhaven still existed without him. So did the police.

He took a drink, then said, ”I’m in.”

Hans stopped chewing.

”But only for the training,” Severin added. ”After that, I’ll decide whether I want the pact.”

”And if you chicken out once the month’s over?”

”Chicken out? You mean if I decide I value my life.” Severin took a sip of tea. ”Then I’ll find some other way to earn my keep here.”

Hans nodded and went back to his bread.

”That’s it?”

”What?”

”Dunno. Thought you’d look more pleased.”

”I am pleased. I’m also hungry.”

Severin reached over and took one of the sausages from Hans’s plate.

”So am I.”

They finished breakfast before Hans took him through the inner corridors.

For three days Severin had been allowed to wander parts of the temple because Hans had vouched for him. That changed quickly once he gave his answer. By late morning the intake was finished and his name was in the Order’s records. A bed and schedule had been assigned, and enough papers had passed in front of him that he stopped trying to guess what every stamp meant.

Hans told him they would meet later, then left him with a clerk outside the stores.

The stores occupied a long room behind a barred counter. Shelves climbed nearly to the ceiling, all numbered in black paint. Folded clothes sat in square stacks by size, and boots were arranged beneath them with their toes facing the same direction. A clock ticked above the far door.

The woman behind the counter looked at the slip the clerk gave her, then at Severin.

”Severin Hale?”

”That’s me.”

She disappeared between the shelves and came back carrying a folded bundle.

Severin took it. The gray cloth was heavier than the training coat Erich had worn yesterday. Inside were trousers, a shirt, socks, a belt, and a plain gray robe. The boots came last.

”Try those.”

He sat on the bench against the wall and pulled one on. It fit well enough that he tried the other.

The woman stared at him. ”Is there a problem?”

”No.”

”Then why do you keep checking them?”

Severin bent the sole with both hands. The leather was thick and the stitching looked solid. He found no gap at the heel where water would find its way in after a week.

”No reason.”

She held out her hand. ”Then give me the old pair.”

He looked down at his own boots.

Hans had bought them in Blackhaven before the journey. They were better than what Severin had owned before the freight yard, but the left one was already creased badly where he favored his knee.

”Sorry. They were a gift.”

The woman sighed. ”Fine. Keep them.”

Severin put the new boots beside the bundle.

”Use the issued pair for training. If they tear or stop fitting, bring them back.” She tapped the bundle. ”And don’t sell any of it.”

She pushed another small bundle across the counter. ”Hand wraps.”

He picked them up. ”Anything else?”

”That’s it. Go get changed.”

Severin carried the clothes away before she changed her mind.

His new quarters were deeper in the Initiate section than the guest room had been. Somebody had already moved his belongings there, which took little effort because they barely filled the bottom of a narrow locker. He changed at the end of the bed.

The clothes fit better than he was used to. The sleeves ended where they should, and reaching forward did not pull the cloth tight across his shoulders. Two inside pockets were deep enough to keep something useful from falling out when he ran.

He checked the stitching twice.

A man in the next room laughed through the open door.

”What’s wrong? Don’t like the color?”

Severin looked over at the other Initiate, already dressed in worn gray. He did not know his name.

”Nah. I look good in anything.”

The man gave no answer and disappeared back into his room.

Severin buckled the belt and looked down at the plain gray robe.

It carried no insignia he recognized. The gray robe was enough to identify him as an Initiate.

The schedule waiting on his bed was mostly useless to him. Rows of Vhaldrik writing filled the page beside times and room numbers. Someone had marked three entries in pencil and written short Aethermerian notes beside them.

Meals and medical were marked in pencil, with the training hall underlined twice. He could manage that.

The first training entry was later that afternoon. The note beside it said report only.

His knee had stiffened while he changed, so he worked it straight before leaving. The ache was dull now and mostly came after he had been sitting too long. His right little finger closed when he made a fist, though a fraction slower than the rest.

The guard at the first inner passage looked at Severin, then at the gray robe.

Yesterday the man had asked where he was going. Today, he simply opened the gate.

Severin went through.

Neumann had told him to report to a smaller room beside the main training hall. Severin knew the way from the lesson the day before. He arrived early because everybody in Kronvaal seemed to treat a clock like it could report them to the police.

The open door showed eight people already inside, all wearing the same new gray. Severin stopped for half a second, then entered.

That made them easy to separate from the Initiates he had watched training yesterday. Their collars were clean and their sleeves free of chalk. The gray at their knees had not been scuffed yet. One man had already rolled his cuffs twice as if the issued size offended him. Another stood near the wall reading the schedule with the concentration of someone who actually understood every word on it.

Two women were among them. One sat with her hands folded over one knee. The other was turning a ring around one finger while she listened to a young man talk too quickly beside her.

Nobody seemed to know anybody, which Severin preferred to walking into a room where everyone had already decided who mattered.

A broad man near the back glanced at Severin’s boots, then at his face.

Severin looked down at the man’s hands, thick-fingered and crossed by old cuts. Another laborer, then.

The man noticed. ”What?”

”Nothing.”

”Why were you staring at me?”

”I’m new here. I’m staring at everything.”

The man gave a short laugh. ”Fair enough.”

Before either could say more, footsteps crossed the hall outside.

Neumann entered carrying a thin register under one arm, and conversation died without him asking for it.

He set the register on the front table and looked around the room until his gaze settled on Severin.

”Hale.”

”Yeah.”

A few heads turned as Neumann waited, still looking at Severin until he understood.

”Yes, sir.”

”That’s better.”

Neumann opened the register.

”We won’t do a proper combat lesson today. Some of you only arrived this morning, and Hale here was taking his sweet time deciding whether he liked us.”

”I still am.”

Neumann looked at him until Severin decided to keep his mouth shut.

”I’ll give you that one for free,” Neumann said. ”Next one costs you fifty push-ups. Once the healers clear you.”

A couple of people laughed quietly.

Neumann checked the page.

”I’ve got a list from the healers with all your injuries. Follow their recommendations until they tell me otherwise.”

Severin shifted his weight off his left leg without thinking, and of course Neumann noticed.

”You’ll start with whatever the healers have cleared you for.”

Severin nodded. ”Yes, sir.”

Neumann went down the page, checking faces against names without reading the names aloud. Severin watched the others while he did it.

The young one who talked too much had finally stopped. The man with the folded cuffs kept looking toward the training hall whenever wood struck wood beyond the wall. One of the women sat perfectly still. The broad worker had crossed his arms.

He knew nothing about the eight of them yet. At least one would be better with a sword than Severin, and several probably knew more than he did. Some could even read the damned schedule without pencil notes. He found that irritating enough to want the lessons to start.

Neumann reached the bottom of the page, counted the room once, and closed the register.

”All nine are here. Be back here before first bell tomorrow.”

A wooden sword cracked against another in the training hall.

Severin glanced at the closed register. His name was in it with the other eight.