Litany of Winter

The body had arrived at the healing wing before they did.

A clerk led them down two flights from the room where Hermes remained with the Blackhaven evidence, then through a corridor Severin had only crossed once before. The air changed first. Soap and boiled linen replaced the dust and old stone, along with a medicinal smell Severin could not name.

Brenna walked ahead with the dispatch open again, while Hans stayed beside Severin.

”Something wrong?” Hans asked.

”Not really. Just tired of dead things today.”

Hans gave him a tired look. ”That’s what usually happens when you spend too much time with me.”

The healing-wing physician waiting at the end of the corridor did not look amused. Brenna introduced them.

He was a narrow man with gray beginning at his temples and sleeves rolled above his elbows. A white apron covered his shirt. There was a brown stain near one cuff that had survived washing.

”Doctor Albrecht Weiss,” he said. His attention settled briefly on Severin’s black coat, then moved to Hans. ”You came quickly.”

”Yes. Since you wrote ’occult review,’” Brenna said.

”I wrote that after I ran out of ordinary explanations.”

Weiss unlocked the door behind him.

The room beyond was tiled halfway up the walls. A drain sat beneath the central table. Two lamps burned high enough to throw clean light over the sheet covering the body.

Severin smelled almost nothing, which bothered him before he understood why.

Weiss shut the door.

”Matthias Kern. Forty-nine. Municipal boiler mechanic. Married twenty-six years. One daughter.”

Brenna glanced at him. ”Cause of death?”

”Abdominal trauma. According to the municipal record, a pressure line ruptured at the South Heating Works six days ago. A section of the housing struck him here.”

Weiss touched his own lower abdomen.

”He was conscious when they brought him to the municipal hospital. A surgeon operated, but the internal damage was too severe. He died that evening.”

”Time?”

”Twenty-three minutes after eight.”

That precise answer made Severin look at the covered body again.

Weiss continued. ”His wife identified him the following morning. Burial was delayed because the works inspector requested the surgical record, and the family was disputing the company’s account of the accident. He remained under municipal custody until the city medical office reported this morning that the body wasn’t decomposing properly. He was transferred here afterward.”

Hans leaned against the wall beside the door. ”Who had access?”

”Before the transfer, hospital staff, two mortuary attendants, his wife and daughter, and the works inspector. Since he arrived here, just me and two healing-wing attendants.”

”Did an undertaker prepare him?” Brenna asked.

”No. The body wasn’t embalmed, and the municipal mortuary has no mechanical refrigeration. The room underground stays cool, but not enough to explain this.”

Brenna stepped to the table. ”Show me.”

Weiss pulled the sheet down. Severin had seen dead men in worse condition, but that did nothing to help.

Matthias Kern looked as though someone had washed him for burial and then forgotten to finish the work. His face had gone pale beneath a rough beard, and dark hair lay flattened against his forehead above a mouth left slightly open.

The hands were wrong in an ordinary way. The nails had dulled. The skin around the fingers had begun to change, subtle enough that Severin might not have noticed before Gravewatch.

His face was worse because it had changed less. Six fucking days, and he still looked like this.

Severin remembered bodies from Blackhaven summers, and freight-yard rats swelling beside walls after two days of heat. The smell always reached him before he saw them, but there was no such smell here.

Brenna bent close to Matthias’s face without touching him. Her visible eye moved from the mouth to the nose, then down the neck.

”How far has decomposition gone?” Brenna asked.

”Body temperature matches the room, and rigor has passed. There’s some discoloration, but less than I’d expect after six days, with no purging or swelling.”

Brenna pulled on a pair of thin gloves while Weiss uncovered the torso.

The wound crossed the lower abdomen beneath a line of surgical closure. Severin had expected the blood to have darkened and the edges to have dried, with the flesh beneath already beginning to sink.

Around the injury, the flesh remained pale and intact. Beside the body lay a folded dressing with one corner dark red.

Brenna picked up the dressing with forceps, and the stain glistened wet beneath the lamp.

Severin stopped breathing through his nose even though there was still almost nothing to smell.

”When did you remove that?” Hans asked.

”Half an hour ago.”

”And when was it put on?”

”Yesterday morning.”

Hans pushed away from the wall.

Brenna pressed the forceps into the stained cloth. A bead of dark fluid gathered at the edge.

”Six days,” Brenna said.

Weiss nodded.

She set the dressing down and examined the closure. ”Was he reopened after death?”

”Twice. The first surgeon thought the date had been recorded incorrectly, so he checked the wound again. The second time, another physician was present.”

Brenna looked up. ”And both times?”

Weiss rubbed the stained cuff of his apron with one thumb. ”The deeper tissue looked like this.”

Brenna removed two sutures while Severin watched because looking away felt worse.

The wound opened only as far as she allowed it. Beneath the skin, the tissue remained dark red and moist, but Matthias’s chest stayed still. He did not twitch when Brenna inserted the tip of the forceps.

Severin knew the man was dead, but the flesh did not look six days dead.

Brenna worked in silence for another minute. Weiss handed her instruments before she asked for them. Hans moved to the opposite side of the table and watched the physician more than the corpse.

Severin stayed near the feet, where Matthias looked less impossible.

His toes had begun to discolor. The skin along one ankle showed a faint green-gray cast. Severin looked from the open abdomen to the hand nearest him. The fingers had deteriorated more than the flesh around the wound.

”Brenna,” he called.

She kept her gaze on the body. ”What?”

”Look at his hand.”

”What about it?”

Severin stepped closer. ”It looks older than the rest of him.”

Her visible eye shifted toward him.

He pointed first to the fingers, then to the exposed abdomen. ”You see? The hand looks more dead.”

Weiss frowned as Brenna straightened.

For several seconds she studied the corpse from head to foot. Then she moved to the right hand and pressed lightly at the skin near the wrist. She worked upward along the arm, repeated the check at the chest and abdomen, then moved down the leg.

”Doctor.”

Weiss was already looking toward Matthias’s ankle.

”The extremities are changing,” he said.

Brenna returned to the wound. ”Just much more slowly here.”

Hans looked down at Severin. ”Good catch.”

Severin shrugged. ”I was standing at the right end.”

Brenna ignored that and indicated the abdomen. ”The preservation is strongest here.”

Weiss studied the body again. ”So whatever happened to him wasn’t uniform.”

Brenna stripped off the gloves and dropped them into a basin before reaching inside her coat.

The object she removed fit easily in one hand. Worn black cloth covered it, secured with a faded cord.

Hans spoke before Severin had made out what she was holding.

”You actually brought those?”

”Yes. I usually do.”

Brenna cleared a section of the side table and unwrapped a deck of cards while Severin watched.

The edges were softened from years of handling. Their backs were black, crossed by thin gold lines that formed circles and angles too precise to be decorative.

”You read cards?” Severin asked.

”My mother did.”

”Knew someone back in Blackhaven who was into Tarot.”

Brenna did not answer. She began shuffling the deck.

Weiss looked from the deck to Brenna. ”Is this really necessary?”

”No,” she said. ”But you asked for an occult review, so I’m doing one.”

Weiss only nodded, which surprised Severin.

Brenna rested one hand over the deck. ”Three cards.”

Her fingertips stayed on the worn edges for a moment.

”What happened to Matthias Kern after death?”

She drew the first card.

A hollow porcelain loom stood inside a roofless cathedral. A single gold thread descended from darkness above it and ran through the loom before dissolving halfway down into gray dust. Empty priestly robes lay collapsed beneath. Tiny symbols had been cut into the pictured stone around them.

Death was one card Severin knew, at least. Brenna kept her thumb against its edge.

”He died, Brenna. We already know that,” Hans said.

”Then keep quiet.”

Hans went quiet.

Brenna touched the deck again. ”What state is the body in now?”

She drew the second card.

An enormous iron bell hung upside down against a charcoal-black field. Where its clapper should have been, a gold-wire hourglass floated inside it. The glass was caught halfway through a turn.

The sand fell upward while hundreds of crossed-out names covered the bell.

Brenna named the card. ”The Hanged Man.”

Severin looked at Matthias. ”What does it mean?”

”Several things.”

”Like?”

Brenna glanced from the card to Matthias. ”Suspension, sometimes sacrifice. Here, I’d read it as something being held still longer than it should be.”

Her attention returned to the corpse. ”What is keeping him that way?”

She drew the third card.

Two empty silk sleeves floated above a black basin. Heavy black ink dripped from one while liquid mercury leaked from the other; where the streams met in the air, they hardened into a rigid lattice of white salt crystals threaded with dark lead wire.

”Temperance,” she said.

Weiss leaned closer. ”Balance?”

”Sometimes. Here, I’d read it as a mixture being held together when it normally wouldn’t.”

Severin studied the three cards again. None of them told him how a corpse could be kept like this. They only made the condition look more deliberate.

He could not tell whether Brenna had learned anything she had not already suspected. Her expression gave him no help.

She gathered the cards carefully. ”The cards don’t explain mechanisms. If you ask them to, they answer badly.”

Hans nodded toward the corpse. ”But?”

”But I think this was done to him. His body isn’t doing it on its own.”

Weiss looked at the wound while Brenna returned the wrapped deck to her coat. She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves.

”Let’s see what was done.”

This time Severin moved beside Hans while Brenna and Weiss worked.

They cleaned the remaining residue from the skin surrounding the surgical closure. Weiss matched each incision against the municipal surgeon’s operative diagram. Brenna made him stop twice and show where the recorded cuts ended.

On the third pass, she said nothing as her forceps hovered over a line near the left edge of the wound.

The line was too fine for Severin to see until the lamp caught it.

A shallow cut ran through the skin beside the surgical incision, staying straight for less than the width of a finger before turning at an angle.

Brenna cleaned farther until another line appeared.

Weiss bent closer. ”That cut isn’t in the operative record.”

Brenna exposed a third line and glanced at Weiss. ”You’re certain?”

”The surgeon marked every incision in the operative record before he closed him.”

Hans came around the table.

The cuts were narrow enough that dried blood and dressing residue had hidden them. Some vanished beneath the surgical line. Others continued toward the side of the abdomen where the body rested against the table.

Severin thought of the marks he had spent the afternoon staring at, symbols that meant something only to people who knew how to read them.

Brenna changed the cloth on her forceps and cleared another patch of skin, exposing one deliberate angle and then another.

Weiss whispered something in Vhaldrik too quickly for Severin to catch.

She stopped cleaning and followed the shallow cuts across Matthias Kern’s abdomen with her visible eye.

”These aren’t surgical.”