The house was in one of the most prized neighbourhoods in Greater Etxelur. A modern stone structure backing onto chambers cut into the face of the Wall itself, it directly faced the big, rich estates that in this age encrusted the old earthwork called the Door to the Mothers’ House – and of course, being south-facing, it was blessed with good light for much of the day. Rina had always loved this house. It was a legacy of a favourite uncle and a place she had often visited as a child. She had spent an inordinate amount of time and money on it to make it a home for their two children as they had grown, as well as an establishment suitable for one of the richest and most powerful couples in Etxelur. Yet it had been a lonely place for Thaxa this summer, since his family had gone south.

Well, that had been the deal they had struck back in the spring, he and Rina, during those difficult, sleepless, guilt-ridden nights. She would get the children to safety; he would stay behind and help prepare the Wall and Etxelur and all of Northland for the difficult days to come. That was the deal, a compromise between their primal need to protect their children and their wider duty. Rina was, after all, an Annid. And if the weather didn’t let up next year, if Rina couldn’t come home, then Thaxa would make his own way south to join her. But after the summer they’d had here, and now the horribly early winter, Thaxa was starting to wonder what would be left of the world by the spring, and whether he would ever be able to get as far as Carthage.

And still the snow fell, big fat flakes of it from an eerie sky, a sky that glowed with a kind of silver light. Perhaps it looked so odd because the autumn sunlight was strong; he was used to snow in the low light of midwinter, not at this time of year. He had loved snow as a boy, for it had been rare then. Close to the Wall snow would often not fall at all, for the great bulk of growstone blocked the northern winds, and its heat warmed the land at its foot. Experts like Pyxeas said the Wall created its own weather. Yes, once he had loved the snow, when it was a rare treat. Now he hated it, like the rest of Northland, he suspected. The only consolation was that the chill was never too deep while the snow was actually falling. It was in the clear nights between the snowfalls that the cold really bit deep, and walls could crack and windows frost up and the piss in your night pot would freeze over, and old people and little babies would die in their beds.