Lena looked as if she might say something. Mags prevented her from doing so by answering immediately, “Yessir, Archivist sir.”

“If you need me, I will be at my desk in the rear.” With that, he turned smartly about and walked back to the back of the room, heels clicking on the stone floor with military precision.

Mags and Lena looked at each other. Mags shrugged, and reached up, pulling down the first box.

“Well,” he said. “Let’s get to it.”

The box was not as heavy as he feared; he hauled it over to the table, and they unloaded the papers inside. It was all organized with fanatic precision. Each report was folded inside a stiffer, thicker piece of paper, and a moon’s worth was tied up with a ribbon or string. There were twelve bundles in each box: a full year’s worth. A year began and ended at Midwinter Night, precisely.

They looked at the bundles, and then at each other. Mags shrugged, and gestured at the box. Lena took out the first moon—Midwinter Moon—and Mags got the second—Ice Moon. They sat down with their bundles and began to skim through them.

The reports were clear and concise, and written in a very legible hand. They also concerned every bit of minutiae on the life of the Guards and the Guard Post.

If I ever can’t sleep, gonna see if I can borrow a moon’s worth of reports.

Mags went through his quickly, neatened all the reports so that all the edges were square, tied up the stack again, and went back for Thawing Moon. Lena was still deep in hers. Mags wondered what she was finding that was so fascinating.

Whatever it was, ’twasn’t in my stack.

She finished hers about the same time as he finished Thawing Moon. She got Budding Moon and he got Flowering Moon. And so it went right through the year to Dying Moon, which was the moon that ended on Midwinter Eve.

“Nothing?” he asked, as they put the stacks back in order again.

She shook her head. “And it’s time for class.”

He nodded, and hoisted the box up. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

He held onto the ribbon, just in case, and put the box back on its shelf. He looked the area up and down, noted the number that had white ribbons tied to them, and repressed his dismay. There were a lot of boxes. . . .

Ah, well. No one told him that this was going to be an easy job. He probably would not have believed them if they had.

If he didn’t run now, he would be late for class. He would worry about all of this later.

All three of them met up for lunch, and Bear listened while he and Lena compared notes with every sign of open envy. “Damn these classes,” he growled finally. “It’s not fair.”