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Back Iron Winter Save as PDF
Chapters (89)
  1. Title page
  2. Contents
  3. Map
  4. ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. TWO
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. THREE
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. FOUR
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. Afterword
  88. By Stephen Baxter
  89. Copyright

‘She didn’t come back from a piss tour yesterday.’

‘I didn’t notice.’ It was shameful but it was true.

‘Well, there’s nothing we can do for her. But if she’s been made to talk about where we are—’

Lurid rumours were always running through the little group about what might be going on in the world outside the sanctuary of their fortress. Ayto and some of the others had been out there, dealing with whatever was going on in the rest of the Wall. Sometimes Ayto returned splashed with blood, and he would not say what he had seen, what he had done. There was nothing to do, Ayto always said, but to sit here and try to survive, while what he called ‘the big sorting-out’ ran to its conclusion elsewhere. But if Xree, a gentle scholar and good Annid, had fallen into the wrong hands . . .

‘Perhaps she got lost.’

Ayto raised his eyebrows. ‘Yes. Maybe she got lost. Just take care, all right?’ He opened the door to Thaxa’s old house, beyond the Wall.

Thaxa hurried through with his buckets.

Suddenly he was in his old courtyard, in dirty, knee-deep snow. The sky above was a slab of blue, and he breathed deep of the fresh air, but the cold felt like a blade in his lungs. The winter had done its damage to his home, of course. The snow had smashed in the roof of the big hall, the very walls were cracked by the frost, the ice had got in through broken windows and coated every surface in the parlours and reception rooms, on the abandoned furniture. But still, this was home, and it was odd to be back out here, after all that had happened. It was not long, he realised, only a few months, since he had sat in these chambers with Ywa and others and discussed the darkness to come, as if it were all a game, a story.

He put these thoughts aside and hurried across the courtyard, where the snow never piled deeply even though no servant swept it any more: an odd effect of the shelter of the surrounding buildings. When he returned he would have to kick the lying snow around to mask his traces; he knew the routine by now, rigorously imposed by Crimm and Ayto.