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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

He couldn’t help responding. ‘Yes, I’m seeing Himuili, if you want to know. He agreed to meet me at the Lion Gate. I’m going to ask him to sponsor me if I decide to go to the courts.’

‘This is you all over. Always asking somebody smarter than you to tell you what to do. Palla is twice the man you are, in every way.’

Kassu sighed. ‘Maybe he is. But he’s not your man. I’m yours.’

‘But I don’t want you.’ She looked at him for a heartbeat, trembling. ‘Not any more. Why did you ever take up the offer to be a Man of the Weapons? My father was a church scribe! I never wanted to be a farmer’s wife. I don’t want this, a farm that’s dust in the summer and frozen in the winter, and we have to give half whatever we do grow in taxes, and I spend my life queuing at the city granaries for the bread dole, and the cattle are scrawny and they kick and try to chew your clothes when you squeeze a drop of milk out of them . . .’

‘Nobody wants the drought,’ he said more gently. ‘Nobody wants the winter. At least we’re playing our part. I fight for the King, for New Hattusa, and we produce more food than we eat, and there’s not many can say that these days.’

‘Oh, how noble you are,’ she said blackly. ‘Playing our part. You are a lump of the dirt you love so much.’

‘The whole world is suffering. The story isn’t all about you.’

She lifted her head, her cheeks stained by tears. ‘Oh, of course it is. Of course it’s about me, and you, and him. What else is it about? You useless lump. You understand nothing. Palla understands . . . Go.’ She picked up bits of his clothing, scattered on the floor where he’d been sleeping, and started throwing them at him, breeches, socks, tunics, woollen caps. ‘Go! Go to your precious general!’

He left with as much dignity as he could muster. Burning with humiliation. Burning with thwarted passion, for he still loved her.

The morning was still early. No fresh snow had fallen overnight but nor had yesterday’s fall melted, and it lay in the furrows and ridges of the churned-up mud. Everybody was getting used to the snow now, but Kassu remembered childhood winters when snow in New Hattusa had been a rare event.

But he forgot about the snow when he met Himuili at the gate in the city’s Old Wall. For, beneath the gaping mouths of weathered stone lions, Palla, the adulterous priest, was here too.