Litany of Winter

The next morning, Neumann had cleared most of yesterday’s clutter from the training hall.

A canvas sack hung from a ceiling beam on a thick rope. The blue-glass lamp had been moved to a stool near the wall. Farther back stood a heavy wooden practice gate in a freestanding frame, reinforced with iron fittings and a broad sliding latch.

Severin stopped inside the door, then crossed farther into the room, his service sword knocking once against his hip.

Neumann looked at it, then at him. ”Still no.”

”I know, I know.”

Rafael laughed under his breath as he came up beside Severin. Madeleine moved to the other side, her right hand already ungloved.

Neumann pointed at the hanging sack. ”Montoro first.”

Rafael’s expression sharpened. ”What do you want me to do?”

”Find out what happens when that hits you.”

”That’s your instruction?”

”For now.”

The sack was packed tightly enough that Severin could see its weight in the way the rope pulled taut. Neumann drew it back with both hands until it reached his shoulder, then looked at Rafael.

”Ready?”

Rafael set his feet. ”Yes.”

Neumann released it, and the sack came through hard enough to make Severin tense.

Rafael caught it with his marked right hand and his left forearm. The dark lines across the back of his hand flashed green.

Braced for the impact straight on, he barely had time to register it before the sack snapped sideways, yanking the rope toward a wooden post and swinging past his shoulder.

He staggered one step and stared after it.

Severin grinned. ”You meant to do that?”

”No.”

”Perfect. So I’m not the only dumb one.”

Rafael ignored him and looked down at his hand.

Neumann caught the returning sack and steadied it. ”You tried to stop it?”

”Yes.”

”You sent it sideways.”

Rafael glanced at the rope. ”I felt it turn.”

Neumann pulled the sack back again, though not as far this time. ”Then do it again. On purpose.”

The second swing came slower.

Rafael waited until the canvas struck his palm. His mark lit green again. The sack jerked to his left as though someone had struck it from the side, while Rafael barely moved from where he stood.

The corner of Rafael’s mouth lifted.

Neumann stopped the sack before it returned. ”Enough. We know what to test tomorrow.”

Rafael flexed his marked hand. ”I can do it again.”

”You will. Tomorrow.”

It settled again.

Severin looked at Madeleine. ”Your turn.”

”I gathered that.”

Neumann moved to the blue lamp and opened its shutter fully. A broad patch of blue light spread across the wall.

Madeleine stood beside the stool. She turned her right hand palm down and focused on the mark.

Green filled the lines across the back of her hand. The flame inside the lamp stayed upright as the blue patch on the wall began to slide.

Slowly at first, it climbed across the corner and onto the wooden frame of the practice gate. Madeleine tracked it with her left gray-green eye, her attention fixed on the moving light. The patch narrowed as she worked, stretching into a thin band across the wood.

Severin leaned forward. ”Bloody hell.”

Madeleine smiled without looking away. ”Thanks, Severin. Useful contribution.”

Neumann lowered the lamp shutter halfway, and the strip weakened at once, spreading wider and dimmer as Madeleine adjusted her hand.

With the shutter fully closed, the blue patch vanished.

Madeleine’s mark still shone green for another second before she let it fade.

”So you need light to work with.”

Madeleine looked at the shutter. ”Seems so.”

”Good. We’ll test how much tomorrow.”

She stepped away from the lamp and pulled her glove back over the marked hand.

Severin looked toward Neumann. ”Now me?”

Neumann pointed at the practice gate. ”Open it.”

Severin walked over. The gate was thick oak, ugly and practical. An iron latch ran across the inside face into a boxed fitting on the frame. A small retaining pin sat tight through the collar that held the latch in place.

”Key?”

”No.”

”Can I break the wood?”

”No.”

Severin glanced at the sword on his hip. ”And I’m guessing that’s still out.”

”Correct.”

Severin gripped the iron fitting with his right hand.

The metal was cool from the room. He focused on the blind left eye beneath his bandage until the familiar pressure gathered there and green light seeped through the cloth.

Then he pulled heat from the iron beneath his palm.

This time he did not stop when the first chill arrived. He kept drawing heat from the latch, the collar, and the plate screwed into the wood. Cold spread under his hand until condensation filmed the metal.

A pale crust formed along one edge, and Severin smiled as he pulled the latch. Nothing happened.

He changed his grip and hauled until the iron bit into his palm, but the gate remained shut.

Rafael folded his arms. ”Very cold.”

Severin looked back at him. ”Fuck off.”

Neumann tapped the wood beside the latch. ”You made the whole thing cold.”

”I noticed.”

”Did it help?”

Severin turned back to the gate, where the frost looked impressive but had accomplished little else.

He crouched and studied the fitting with his good eye.

The pin was the problem, a narrow iron piece driven through a collar and tight enough that he could barely turn it with his fingertips. He had seen the same sort of cheap fitting on warehouse doors and cart hardware all over Blackhaven. Winter always made old iron behave differently. Sometimes a pin that fought you in warm weather came loose after a hard freeze.

He had chilled the pin and everything around it together.

Severin pressed his thumb and forefinger against the exposed head while Neumann watched without speaking.

He focused again and tried to keep his attention small.

Green remained visible beneath the bandage. He drew heat from the pin alone, or as close to alone as he could manage. The first attempt bled into the collar, leaving pale frost across the iron around it.

He stopped long enough to reset his focus, then tried again with only his fingertips against the pin.

Cold bit into his fingertips, and the pin gave the slightest turn. Severin froze.

He twisted again with his fingertips and felt the metal answer as the pin moved.

”Ha.”

He pulled. The pin came free with a sharp scrape, and the collar released enough for him to slide the latch back.

The gate swung open, and Rafael watched from beside the hanging sack, doing his best to look unimpressed.

Rafael raised one brow. ”You looked very pleased with yourself.”

”I earned it.”

Madeleine laughed.

Neumann stepped forward and pushed the gate shut again. ”Now make it difficult for me to open.”

Severin stared at the latch. ”Bit different.”

”Yes.”

He looked around the hall and spotted the shallow basin from yesterday on the long table against the wall.

Severin crossed to it, dipped two fingers into the water, then stopped and looked at Neumann.

”Does everything in the room count?”

”Yes. As long as you don’t break anything.”

Severin carried the basin over and poured a little water into the narrow gaps around the latch and collar. Some ran down the wood, while the rest settled into the seams.

He put his palm against the iron as green showed through his bandage.

The latch chilled. Water clouded around the narrow opening and began to thicken. A skin of ice formed between the moving pieces, then crept deeper into the wet seams.

Severin pulled his hand away. ”Try it now.”

Neumann took hold of the latch, but it shifted less than a finger’s width before stopping.

He changed his grip and pulled again with his shoulder behind it.

The ice cracked somewhere inside the fitting but held, and Severin could not help smiling.

Neumann let go. ”Better.”

”Better? That’s it?”

”Yes. What were you expecting, applause?”

”Well, since I almost died for this, yeah.”

Neumann looked at him. ”Hale. You opened one gate and annoyed another.”

”Still more than I could do yesterday.”

That was true. Yesterday he had only wanted the heat gone; today he had made the cold useful.

He looked at the frost around the latch. ”Let me do it again.”

Neumann left one hand on the latch. ”You’ve done enough.”

”What if I can do it faster?”

”That wasn’t today’s lesson.”

”Could be if you trusted me more.”

Rafael made a quiet sound of agreement.

Neumann looked from Severin to the gate, then broke the ice loose with the heel of his hand and reset the retaining pin.

”All right. Once.”

Severin stepped in before he could change his mind.

He took the pin between his fingers and focused, green showing beneath the bandage as he pulled heat faster than before.

The cold came viciously. Frost whitened the pin, then spread toward the collar. Severin felt his fingertips begin to ache and kept going.

Too much was spilling into the surrounding iron, so he forced his attention back onto the pin instead of the whole fitting.

The pin shifted, and Severin twisted it free.

”Done.”

The word came out with more triumph than he intended.

He tried to drop the pin, but his fingers stayed curled around the iron for a beat before obeying. Severin frowned at his hand.

”Let go,” Neumann said.

”I am.”

”No, you’re trying to.”

Severin concentrated on straightening his fingers. They obeyed slowly. The pin fell and struck the boards.

Rafael’s amusement disappeared as Madeleine stepped closer without touching him.

Neumann looked at Severin’s hand. ”Shit. How bad is it?”

”It’s very cold.”

”That wasn’t what I asked.”

Severin flexed his fingers. The motion lagged before catching up. ”I’m fine.”

Neumann glanced at the sword on Severin’s hip and considered him for another moment before finally nodding.

”All right. Draw it.”

Severin stared at him. ”You serious?”

”Before I change my mind.”

His hand went to the hilt, and for one glorious second, Severin thought he had won the argument.

A fraction too late, his fingers closed around the hilt, the grip shifting against his palm instead of settling into it as he tightened harder and moved to plant his left foot for the draw.

His knee folded, and the floor lurched upward.

Neumann caught the front of his coat and shoved him back against the gate before he went down.

Severin stood there breathing hard, one hand still closed awkwardly around the sword hilt while his left leg straightened beneath him again.

Neumann released his coat.

Severin looked at his right hand and said, ”My hand was cold.”

”Yes.”

Severin looked down at his left leg. ”Fuck.”