their pints and stared at the dancing flames of the hearth, each imagining the terror of war and sack of every town and farmstead. Steiner’s thoughts found their way back to Kjellrunn.
‘She’s so … strange, with her driftwood charms and crow feathers. I think she looks like a witch, and I’m her own kin.’
‘Her own kin might want to keep his voice down when using the word “witch”.’
‘Sorry.’ Steiner glanced about the room but the many fishermen and townsfolk were intent on their own conversations.
‘It will turn out fine,’ said Verner, and Steiner wanted to believe him.
‘We’ve not had witchsign here for two decades,’ said Steiner, but even as he said the words he thought of Kjellrunn, the tousle-haired girl with a faraway look in her eye. He thought of how subdued she’d been watching the red ship in the bay. The dire feeling she’d fail the Synod’s inspection plucked at him like icy fingers. The Vigilant would sniff around her, declare her corrupted by the power of dragons, and they’d never see her again.
‘It’s the same every year,’ said Verner. ‘Cinderfell is the last stop on the Synod’s route to Vladibogdan’.
‘Vladibogdan?’ Steiner frowned. ‘Where is Vladibogdan?’
‘Ah, Frejna.’ Verner squeezed his eyes shut, then released a sigh. ‘Keep it to yourself. I know you will.’ He leaned in closer and looked over his shoulder to check none of the fishermen were listening.
‘The island of Vladibogdan lies twenty miles off the coast of Nordvlast, to the north-west.’
‘I’ve never heard of it.’ Steiner leaned closer, his voice a whisper.
‘Of course you haven’t. It’s the largest of the Nordscale islands and the Solmindre Empire’s dirty secret. It’s where they take children with witchsign for cleansing.’ Verner’s face creased with torment and Steiner thought he saw the glimmer of tears at the corners of his uncle’s eyes.
Steiner didn’t need to ask what cleansing entailed. Witchsign wasn’t tolerated in Vinterkveld, and those with witchsign were expunged, though none truly knew how. Some said fire, some said beheading.
‘How is it you know of this mystery island then?’ whispered Steiner.
‘I’m a fisherman.’ Verner didn’t meet his eyes. ‘Sometimes we go out to sea further than we intend.’
‘Twenty miles out?’
Verner forced a grin. ‘Perhaps I used to raid Imperial vessels. Perhaps I used to be a pirate?’ He downed the last of his beer and stood up, fetching his coat.
‘And they take the children to Vladibogdan?’ asked Steiner, keen to know more, but Verner held a finger up to his lips. ‘I have business elsewhere.’
‘At this time of night?’
‘Aye, no rest for the wicked and all that. Keep your sister safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ The blond man crossed the room, exchanging handshakes and slapping shoulders in farewell as he left.
‘You look as if you lost an axe and found a knife,’ said Kristofine.
‘I’m not sure I even found the knife to be honest.’
Kristofine set down two bowls of stew and a plate of bread, then to Steiner’s surprise sat down and began to eat.’
‘I don’t have long,’ she said, ‘but I’m famished and you looked like you needed a dining companion.’
Steiner laughed. ‘Dining companion? You make me sound like a merchant.’
‘You’re a blacksmith, aren’t you?’
Steiner smiled and began to eat. ‘What’s got into Verner tonight? He’s not himself.’
‘Worried for Kjellrunn, I expect,’ replied Kristofine. ‘They’re close, aren’t they?’
‘She’s always pressing him for stories of Frøya and Frejna, mysterious crows and the old wars. Children’s tales really. You wouldn’t guess she’s sixteen summers.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ agreed Kristofine. ‘You keep a close eye on her while that ship is in the bay, won’t you?’
Steiner nodded, struck by the seriousness of Kristofine’s tone.
‘Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about your sister.’
‘What did you come here to talk about then?’ replied Steiner, feeling out of his depth and not knowing in which direction to swim.
‘You don’t speak to many girls, do you?’ said Kristofine.
‘I don’t speak to many people. Mainly just hammer metal on an anvil.’
‘Maybe another mead will loosen your tongue.’
Steiner watched the woman cross the tavern as excitement and confusion vied for the upper hand. It had been a curious day; it looked to be a curious night.
The compact made between the Solmindre Empire and the Scorched Republics allows a member of the Synod to enter all dwellings across Vinterkveld in order to carry out an Invigilation. Taking children from their parents is no small matter but the children are dangerous. The threat of open rebellion weighs heavily during times such as these and a Vigilant should take as many soldiers as they can gather. You must meet resistance with intimidation, and match violence with brutality.
– From the field notes of Hierarch Khigir, Vigilant of the Imperial Synod.
Kjellrunn hated the kitchen. The ceiling was too low, the chimney never seemed to spirit away the smoke as best it could, and the table at the centre was too large. She had spent a lifetime shuffling and side-stepping around the vast slab of timber. Such a large table and rarely anything good to eat, a bitter irony. She belonged in the forest and lived only for the summer months when she could wander through the trees for hours, alone and at peace.
Steiner served a dollop of porridge into a bowl from a wooden spoon. He hummed quietly as he circled the table, serving more porridge into his bowl, then sat down and began to eat, barely noticing her. Marek was already in the smithy, tinkering with some half-finished project.
‘Why are you smiling?’ said Kjellrunn, her porridge untouched. ‘You never smile.’
Steiner looked up, spoon halfway to his mouth, eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘What?’
‘And you’re humming. You hate music.’
‘I don’t hate music, I just can’t sing. You have the greater share of that talent, always singing
