BooksBarbecue
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

He scrambled across the growstone, crouching in the wind. Facing north, he lay on his belly, holding his hood to protect his face from the blasting wind, and looked down by the light of his lantern. The Wall face itself was caked with ice. And there was a broken pipe venting steam, just beneath the edge of the roof. The pipes here, stitching in and out of the growstone surface, were part of the radiator system; the steam would pass through these exposed sections and lose a little heat in the open air before being drawn back into the closed cycles of the engine. Now, Thux could see, even though the radiator pipes were usually blistering hot, the cold had won. The pipes had become coated with thick masses of ice, flowing forms that must have melted and refrozen as the heat battled the snow, and the fluid in one section of the pipe must have frozen and, expanding, split the pipe wide open. The engine was bleeding steam pressure, and, worse, if the radiator wasn’t working the engine would soon be overheating too.

It wasn’t an impossible job. The system, already centuries old, had evolved with time for ease of repair. Lying flat, he could reach down to the broken section. He checked that his rope harness was fixed securely to a stout rung, and then dug out a wrench and a short length of brass sleeve that he would use to join the broken ends of pipe to make a temporary fix. The welders could come up here and make the joint good when the weather relented. He flipped back his mittens’ lids to expose his fingers, taking care not to touch the still-hot pipes, and grabbed the broken section with his right hand.

As his hand closed around the freezing metal he knew immediately he’d made a horrible mistake.

The agonising cold sank into his fingers and palm. When he tried to loosen his fingers he found the flesh was glued firmly to the metal surface. He tried harder, and he could feel the flesh tear, and blood oozed out onto the metal where it froze immediately, a glistening crimson. He was stuck. Lying here face down on the growstone, his right arm outstretched down the Wall, he couldn’t even reach the locked right hand with his left. Be careful, his mother had always said. One mistake out there – that’s all it will take. And she’d been right. This had been that one mistake, for him.