Glass Winter | Chapter XVIII

The sled was coming along well, so well that Sevt could have forgotten that he was born with two legs.

Velour had provided a gracious supply of seal bone and antlers from the commune’s stores. Bone was often used to reinforce the tools that the stone miners or masons used, the elk antlers were leftover material from the old hamlet, collecting dust and growing brittle from the cold. In the warmth of Malcolm’s shelter, Sevt and Panuk worked on lashing the pieces together.

The sled would be large enough to hold several people and their provisions. Sevt had thought about placing a screen at the front for against the storm, but that would still leave the huskies vulnerable.

Belka came running up to Sevt as he notched a crossbar with his dirk, leaping at his back, circling on the spot, then standing on her hindlegs while holding his arm with both front paws.

“She’s the most playful one of the three.” Observed Panuk, securing a part of the sled while looking around at the huskies causing mayhem in the room.

Sevt scratched Belka behind the ear before she joined her pack, bounding around the two men and fighting on the hard-packed snow.

Your fur is soft. But it won’t protect you.

If the storm ever subsided, if the commune ever shifted far enough from the caves and found shelter in terrain other than flatland, only then could Sevt take the sled outside these walls and find the glass castle.

If. The word stung like the end of a dagger. That indeterminate future robbed him of his sleep and darkened his days. Sevt remembered the ride to the old hamlet with Quin, the dancing lights guiding them from above, the scraping ice beneath them and the wind in their faces, the friendly conversation and the richness of the food, even if it was simple and dry. Those days, as grim as they had been, had promised a return on hope even if their circumstances had not made sense at the time.

And he had been injured. All he could do was ride the sled to the hamlet.

“The merits of dancing while still in the storm.”

Panuk did not talk much. He mentioned his wife with fondness, and the memory of waiting for summer grass, of smelling the early bloom that pierced through the snow.

“I remember, before Olga, falling in love with a local woman. I know it was love because I had crowned her with those flowers.”

“Never would have thought of you as a romantic.”

Panuk shrugged, “It’s one of the few things worth fighting for. Along with one’s country, and one’s children.”

Sevt handed him one of the notched crossbars, “And the country that you describe, do you remember anything else about it?”

“Might not have been too far off from this place,” Panuk smiled, “if one of its joys was waiting for the snow to thaw.”

Malcolm had not been responsive to Sevt’s requests. Velour had said that the old chief spent most of his days in prayer, though to an onlooker he looked to be in a trance. The hours he spent awake were few, intended only for eating, drinking, or relieving himself. Speaking to him when he was lucid was futile since the dialogue was far from lucid. He had gone mad.

“We can only prevent him from dying now.” Said Velour, “It’s like watching over a child.”

Panuk cut sequential holes in one of the runners while Sevt worked on the other. They were made from wood, the only wooden components that the sled would have, and which Vel had allowed. Sevt’s friendship with him had not been in vain, and a convincing argument had helped as well.

“I would only need two boards from the boats, the top most from either side. It will still float, if your people ever use it again. Should we not come across an unfrozen body of water in our eventual journey north, you would have enough firewood remaining—”

“Sevt,” Velour had shaken his head, “You should know by now that in a landscape as barren as this one, firewood is the our most valuable currency, and we need every piece we can get.”

“Yes. You do.” Sevt had sheltered the huskies by then, who had otherwise been roaming the commune waiting for a desperate denizen to stick them on a spit and use their bones for soup, “And you needed mushers at the old hamlet. For scouting, for hunting. There’s no reason why at least one sled cannot be of use in the days to come.”

So Sevt had received his two wooden boards.

Not that I know much about mushing. But I’ll have to learn. For everyone’s sake, not just my own now.

At least, that was what he kept telling himself. The lie, if it could be called a lie, ate at his insides whenever he laid his head to rest. It ameliorated when he tried to bond with the huskies. Belka had not known what to think of him, Strelka still bared her teeth whenever he came too close, only Medved tolerated his presence with a wise air of trust. The other dogs followed the alpha, and slowly learned to relax around their new owner.

Every good musher knows his dogs. It would be wise that I do as well.

The final sled was going to be twelve feet in length and two and a half feet wide. Without nails, the two wooden runners and the dozen crossbars made of bone and antler would be lashed together. What Velour had gathered from the leftover seals and elks in the commune’s stores had to be smoothed, refined, and tightened with line to create one crossbar. It would then be bound with the runners using seal skin that threaded through the latter’s holes. A flexible design that absorbed shock while riding over rough ice or snow.

They had been building it for days since Quin’s obsequies, whenever Panuk was not busy with his work around the commune, namely gathering lichen or mining the hills to the south. He was as new to construction as Sevt was, but the both of them had been around sleds, Panuk more than him. The two mushers that had arrived at the commune were not allowed visitors per Sowne’s orders, holed up in some icy cell like Quin had been. So the two men had to rely on their memory, and the knowledge of a couple of Panuk’s friends that knew more about the craft than him or Sevt combined. Some details would be forgotten, enough to compromise the sled’s integrity. But so long as it not fall apart after one of them cried “mush!”, the build would be considered a success.

“Well. I’m famished.” Panuk rose to his feet, brushing his hands against his trousers. “You?”

“Can’t say.” Sevt pushed back along the floor to take in their progress.

The sled could seat two or three people now, without supplies. With some of the remaining cross pieces already made but still to be attached, they could complete it tomorrow.

“Yes. I believe that I could use a break. Though I would opt for something light. I’ll watch you eat.”

“Ah, come on.” Panuk helped Sevt up and handed him his crutch, “I’ll prepare something that we can both enjoy. To commemorate the sled.”

“It’s not done yet.”

“No. But only one of us is hungry. I think it’s about time we treated ourselves instead.”

The treat in question was tea and condensed milk. A delicacy in the old hamlet, when its denizens milked deer and muskoxen. Sevt boiled water outside while Panuk brought over a jar from his shelter, its paste frozen cold but quick to dissolve in lichen tea. The drink was filling, to Sevt’s surprise, thick and rounded with a subtle sweetness. Oleg and Velour each had a taste and commended the effort.

“Reminds one of home.” Said Oleg, “The former commune. As close to as home as we’ve ever had here.”

“It reminds me to keep searching for my true home.” Said Panuk.

Sevt warmed his hands with his drinking tusk and watched steam rise from the pot, into the night. Panuk could have only brought over one jar from the hamlet, maybe two, and yet he was spending it now without any regret. That much was clear, as Vel cracked a joke and their collective chuckled. Oleg explained his spear, its dimensions and the alterations he had made over time. Panuk described the process of evaporating milk.

Their circumstances did not make sense, and to think too much of the surrounding night would make Sevt go mad. So he spoke with the men instead, and warmed his hands with the tea.

~~~~~

Aurora would not have a chance to tell Palina what she had heard. Shortly after Sowne left, Bratislav seemed to materialise by Palina’s side, scolding her for not keeping an eye on the little girl. Many people stopped walking and working to watch, and the ashen woman’s attempts at deescalation only infuriated him further.

Did Sowne instruct Bratislav to cause such a scene, or is this his own doing?

Not that it mattered. Either way, Palina would have a hard time believing Aurora with what was being said. Bratislav claimed that letting a child wander the commune on her own was dangerous, Palina had no reason to believe this. When asked why she had let Aurora go, the ashen woman explained that the girl had insisted on working with the sewists.

“You allowed a child to sway your better judgement?”

“Why does that concern you? Why should any of us be concerned?”

“Well. There’s no use hiding it.” Bratislav addressed the people around him, “What Sowne discusses with his men and advisors is of no concern to any of you. The sanity of this commune relies on what your betters deem you worthy of hearing. Otherwise, you’ll have children, like this one, eavesdropping on confidential matters then recalling their understanding of it. However little they might understand. And the last thing we need is miscommunication.”

“And who are you to declare this?” Asked a mason, “Why isn’t this coming from Sowne?”

“Because it should be obvious. Besides, the reason behind this system of trust is not for me to explain.” Bratislav gave Aurora a disapproving look, “You’ll all be informed in due time, and if need be.”

The gall.

Aurora stomped off, until Palina tugged at her arm.

“Where are you going? You heard what he said.”

“And you listened to every word, didn’t you?”

“Oh enough with you.” Palina pulled the girl back to the ice.

Aurora broke free and ran towards their shelter. Bratislav was saying something in a mocking tone, Palina responded with an insult.

Aurora hesitated to enter the igloo upon arriving, waiting for Palina to catch up instead.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“He’s trying to trick you, to trick all of us.”

“Maybe he is,” Palina’s gaze condemned the girl, “but what I gathered is that you lied to me.”

Aurora did not respond. She knew what was coming next but dreaded it all the same.

“What were you doing listening in on Sowne?”

“He was with Eron. They are the only ones besides myself who know what happened to Quin.”

The pale woman was seeing red.

She’s not going to listen.

“I thought I told you never to bring him up again.”

“He didn’t kill himself, it was—”

“Enough, Aurora.”

Palina grabbed her by the hood of her coat and pushed her into the shelter.

“There are demons in the commune, Palina!”

“And now you’re going to tell me that they killed Quin?”

“They did!”

“How would you know?” Palina crouched down by the entrance outside, “And how would the rest of us not know?”

“But he was marked—”

“You’re telling me that over a hundred people would not have seen a demon make its way into the commune nor escape from it? He’s gone, Aurora…”

Palina stopped talking, containing herself. It was so warm in the shelter, but she remained in the cold outside.

“You said that you hated having every chance to do something and doing nothing,” Aurora said, “if we’re really in danger, we have to tell everyone.”

“No, Aurora, we have to be realistic. Sowne, for all his faults, will never let anything happen to any of us. He will fight, die, if need be, to pave our way forward.”

“He would die for someone like Bair. But not for you or I.”

Palina sighed. She was trembling.

“So long as Malcolm’s alive, you and I will be fine.” She said, “Eron, that brute, would say anything to cover his hide. His disappearance after the deed makes him the most likely suspect. You may be a child, Aurora, but even you should be smarter than this.”

“You’re afraid.”

Palina said nothing.

She’s just as afraid as I am if what Eron says is true.

If it meant that her time was shorter than it already was. That had to be the reason, though Aurora would not find out.

“Get some rest.” Palina said as she departed.

Silence settled over the igloo. The only sound Aurora heard was her own breathing.

How can I sleep, knowing what I know now?

The shelter was spacious and warm enough, but comfort now only made her restless. After enough time the nerves died down, and Aurora felt her eyes laden and head spin as she laid it down on her bedroll. She did not know how long she spent turning from one side to the other, so tired yet incapable of finding rest.

Eron and Sowne’s words still rang in her memory. Every moment spent since was wasted, she knew, if no one else learnt about them. She sat up.

I need to find someone reasonable enough to listen.

Aurora already knew that the likeliest person was Bair. Though she and Palina had not spoken to him in days.

She might hate me just for talking to him.

It seemed that when Palina could not deal with her frustrations or fear she would vent them on others. The thought of losing another friend because of this habit petrified Aurora. And when she became afraid, she would freeze up, and words she was about to say would vanish. Given enough time, she would forget what she had wanted to say in the first place, or what she had been thinking, why she even was where she was.

“This… isn’t about me,” she struggled to stand up, but after an attempt or two she managed, “or about Palina. This is for all of us.”

Aurora stepped out into the winter chill and made for the last site she knew Bair had been working at. She was not as familiar with most of the people she saw on the way, and knew that the previous shift had ended. She would need to hurry in order to catch Bair, and for Palina to not notice her absence.

Aurora happened to see him on the way. His face changed from shock to poignant relief.

“Aurora!” Bair rushed over, picked her up, and held her in his arms, “By God’s mercy, you’re alright. I was just told about the accident.”

He put her down.

“Is Palina safe? Who fell through the ice?”

“She’s alright. She’s helping the others to get Jeyne and Fargor out.”

“Jeyne and Fargor…”

“Bair.” Aurora hesitated.

“What is it, little one?”

The words did not come to her. She found herself looking around, feeling like something was just out of sight though seemingly gone the moment Aurora faced it.

“You need to speak to Palina.” She said, “Palina needs your help. She won’t listen to me.”

“She’s not listening to me either.” Bair sighed, “Not right now.”

“She’s afraid…,” the word felt like a terrible spell, “I’m… I’m afraid…”

That winged thing. That winged smiling thing that Aurora had hoped to forget was shining in her mind once again, though she could not see it. Its presence, or rather what it portended, was clear to her instead. It petrified her until she could not see, hear, nor feel anything else. She was frozen in place, out of time and space, with that terrible presence growing stronger and surer.

Fear. Without bound or end. Fear that yawned from the aether in all its frightening potential, around and towards the horizon above, below, front, behind, left, right. Fear without hope, curling into a glaring grin, gushing crimson, silent…

“Aurora, say something!” Bair shook her by the shoulder.

Back into the quiet cold. Snow falling from the heavens.

“They’re here.” Bair’s face swam before her as she wiped her eyes with her glove, “I heard it. Eron was telling Sowne. And Palina’s not listening.”

Aurora told him everything as they stood on the track, people walking by without a care. She wondered if the same darkness would cloud their faces if they knew what Bair now did.

“Go to Palina. Help with the rescue, or with the work. And tell no one else what you’ve just told me, you got that?”

She had not known what reaction to expect. She had half expected him to send her on her way, as Palina had.

“So, you believe me?”

“I’m not sure what I want to believe.” He was looking around, “But I know that holding secrets from his people will not benefit Sowne. Nor the rest of us. Go, now. And speak no more of this.”

Aurora would not see him around the commune in the days that followed. She saw men walking brisk and angry with an axe or a spear in hand, and once she was woken up by a chorus of shouting from the far side of the grounds. The following morning some of them were nursing their wounds and bruises by a fire, talking to each other in hushed tones. She could only make out one phrase: “…with the mushers gone…”.

She remembered them, with their blank yet calculating faces, walking past all those days ago. Now securely locked up somewhere in the commune’s peripheries.

Maybe I misheard them. Maybe with the ‘musher gone’, they’re re-evaluating things…

Later that day, Sowne gathered all the people to announce new regulations going forward.

Everyone walking about the commune now had to in groups of two or more, but never by themselves. All weapons would now need to be accounted for – axes, dirks, swords, spears, harpoons – even items that could be weaponised like picks, hammers, pickaxes, and chisels. Two stone miners were temporarily reassigned to manage this.

Then, the subject of food was brought up. With nine scouts absent, three recent deaths, and Malcolm’s four guards, useful manpower was thinning by the week. Every stone miner was now responsible for hunting, fishing, and gathering. If a tool should break, and a replacement could not be provided, two men would be dispatched to the hills for quarrying. The same two men would then furnish the required tool.

But even with the increase in anglers and lichen gatherers, and an ordered extension of the fishing grounds, Sowne insisted on rations. Whereas before adults and children were encouraged to limit themselves to two meals per day, preferably adapting to one, now there would be no exception. A single fish fillet or four hermit crab legs and a hand-sized portion of lichen was all that would be permitted.

The work would slow down on such a diet, many claimed. Others, who had been prudent and already fasting with a single daily meal before these new restrictions, believed otherwise. Working hours could be shortened and people could go to sleep earlier, and soon they would learn to wake earlier too and return to their posts. Over time, the work would become just as efficient as when it ran on two full stomachs a day. Of course, this was easier said than done, and in the following days people were already scuffling with fists and knives, arguing for the health of their children or, if they hadn’t any, that they would work better with just a morsel of fish more. Two of Malcolm’s guards, and men like Eron, had been reassigned to police these incidents. They would confiscate any weapons used by the assailants, storing them in Sowne’s shelter.

“I would advise you not to go on like this,” he later said, “if we’re attacked, and everyone’s knives are collecting dust in my quarters, imagine the sight of all of you running to me for help.”

In light of all of this, Aurora realised that she must have been right. While nobody voiced their suspicions, and no confirmation came from Sowne, it was known that their commune was under threat. Besides the deaths, people dreamt restlessly, though upon waking they could not remember what they had seen. Pastor Joel had commissioned a makeshift thurible out of stone and string, fasting his ration of lichen by burning it as incense instead and blessing the commune’s perimeter. After one of the strings broke, and soon after the rest caught fire, the pastor stuck to sermons.

And through it all, the yoke of fear and shame weighed Aurora down. Trusting Bair with this knowledge was crucial at the time, but she could not shake the thought that the troubles that followed might not have happened otherwise. Furthermore, Palina hardly spoke to her anymore.

Does she know? Did Bair tell her? Did she see me speaking to him? Did she return to the shelter before I had a chance to but kept quiet about it?

Aurora never asked Palina about any of these. She did recognise, however, the same sadness in her eyes as plagued her own soul, though it could very well have just been the sloughflesh.

It could be any day now.

Aurora did not dare to entertain the thought, lest it hindered her work. It always lingered despite of her efforts in the back of her mind. And one day she had had enough.

Aurora stepped over to Palina, fast asleep, and shook her shoulder. Upon awakening the girl asked her.

“Do you want to be saved?”

Palina might have heard the words before, but until she rubbed the tiredness from her eyes she could not understand.

Aurora repeated the question. Enough time had been spent for nothing, but the way forward now only relied on Palina’s decision.

Palina agreed. Aurora took her to Pastor Joel right away.

Why he had been named ‘pastor’ was beyond them, for he did not know the words of Aurora’s faith, which her family had taught her. But despite his greedy belly and his yawns, he was not one to decline another’s will to repent.

The confession was held outside, the winds of an expanding section of the commune chilling them to the bone, and Aurora waited a dozen paces out of hearing range. Palina had a lot to declare to the minister, who listened solemnly and patiently. Both seemed out of place, with Pastor Joel having to hold back another yawn at one point, though he pardoned himself right after. When all had been said they looked to Aurora, and she came over to help the pastor recite the closing prayer, line by line. By the end, Palina’s face was streaming with sorrow.

They stood there, in silence. Aurora stepped over and wrapped her arms around the ashen woman. After a moment, Palina returned the embrace.

“Thank you, Aurora.”

That caught her off guard.

“But you’re crying.”

Palina laughed, “I’m not crying. I’m relieved, and I can’t explain it.”