Witchsign. Den Patrick

      ‘And you have passed your testings?’

      Steiner swallowed but didn’t look away, dared not look away. He had nothing to be guilty of. ‘I passed every one, from ten summers until my sixteenth, when I left the school.’

      ‘We should return,’ said Khigir.

      ‘Wait a moment, brother,’ replied Shirinov. He stepped closer to Steiner and the sound behind the smiling mask was unmistakable. Shirinov sniffed, like a wolfhound scenting a hare or fox.

      ‘And how old are you?’

      ‘Eighteen,’ said Steiner. ‘I just told you, I’ve stood through six Invigilations, and so has my sister. We’ll take our leave now.’

      ‘No. You will not.’ Shirinov leaned close and cocked his head to one side. ‘I deem you corrupted.’ He sniffed again. ‘You have the taint of witchsign about you.’

      ‘That’s ridiculous,’ grunted Steiner. ‘You’re lying.’ Kjellrunn squeezed his hand.

      ‘I sense the power of the earth,’ said Shirinov. ‘And of the sea. I sense much power within you. I don’t know how you passed through earlier Invigilations undetected, but we have you now.’

      Steiner opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. The power of the sea? Of the earth? He’d expected Kjellrunn to be found with witchsign, but never himself. Kjellrunn squeezed his hand again but Steiner barely felt it, his eyes locked on the smiling mask of Hierarch Shirinov.

      ‘You’re lying,’ he repeated, though his voice was distant, as if hearing himself in a dream. Wouldn’t he know? Wouldn’t he have experienced something, some unearthly event or strange turn?

      ‘I am many things, Steiner Erdahl Vartiainen,’ said Shirinov, ‘but a liar is not one of them.’

      ‘All because I spoke back to you, is that it?’

      ‘No, that is not it. I sense the power of the earth upon you, and of the sea. What violence might you visit upon the Empire if left unchecked? What terrors might you summon?’

      ‘Summon? I have no powers, old man.’ But the words were carried off on the wind, frail as smoke, like embers dying. Steiner’s world dimmed and a terrible uncertainty stole both his breath and his resolve.

      ‘You will present yourself at the pier tomorrow morning,’ said Shirinov, ‘or I will send the soldiers to find you.

      ‘You’re wrong,’ said Steiner, hearing the disbelief in his voice. ‘This is all wrong.’

      ‘Do not try to run, Master Vartiainen.’ Khigir’s voice was mockery dressed as concern. ‘If we fail to find you by noon tomorrow you will leave us no choice but to sack the entire town.’ Khigir leaned closer. ‘It would be unfortunate. Many deaths occur when a search is conducted, accidentally of course.’

      ‘You’re mistaken.’ Steiner shook his head. ‘I’ve passed every Invigilation since I was ten.’

      ‘Not this time,’ said Shirinov, and Steiner was certain the Vigilant grinned behind the mask.

      The Hierarchs turned away and disappeared beneath the school’s archway, leaving Steiner to stare after them. He remained statue-still and mute with shock until the heavy fist of a soldier caught him under the ribs, forcing the air from his lungs.

      ‘Be at the pier tomorrow, and keep that smart mouth of yours shut.’

      Steiner was about to answer when another soldier struck him across the face, hard enough that his head whipped to one side. Suddenly he was kneeling in the snow, staring at flecks of soot and spatters of crimson. Blood, he realized.

      ‘Steiner.’ Kjellrunn fell to her knees and hugged him, shoulders shaking with fierce sobs. ‘Oh, Steiner.’ He reached into the snow with numbed fingers and produced the sledgehammer brooch.

      At least I found this, he wanted to say, but his bruised jaw refused him, unwilling to shape the words.

      They sat at the kitchen table and Steiner could only blink and try to wonder how such a thing had happened. His father had transitioned from silent shock to whispered denial and then roaring anger. He’d spent long minutes hatching plans for Steiner’s escape.

      ‘You know we can’t risk such a thing,’ said Verner.

      ‘The Vigilant, Khigir, he told me they’d tear the town apart if I didn’t turn myself in tomorrow.’ Steiner pressed a rag to the cut on his cheekbone.

      ‘Better the whole town than my brother,’ said Kjellrunn.

      ‘You told me we’d escape Invigilation this year,’ said Marek, hard eyes set on Verner. ‘You told me—’

      ‘I told you I hoped that we’d avoid a visit from the Synod this year. I made no promises.’

      ‘Why were there two Vigilants?’ said Kjellrunn in a distant, faraway tone. ‘Why not the usual Troika?’

      ‘And why were they both Hierarchs?’ added Steiner.

      ‘We’ve never had such high-ranking members of the Synod here before.’ Kjellrunn shook her head. ‘Nothing above a Holy Mother anyway.’

      ‘Two Vigilants turned up dead in Helwick, and the third went missing,’ explained Verner. ‘None of the soldiers could explain why. It seems the Synod sent two more Vigilants to investigate.’

      ‘And they just happened to stop in Cinderfell to conduct the Invigilation,’ added Marek, glaring at the fisherman.

      ‘No one could have predicted they’d come so soon,’ said Verner.

      ‘Two Vigilants dead and a third missing?’ said Steiner.

      Verner nodded.

      ‘You didn’t mention anything in the tavern last night?’

      Verner shrugged and glanced across the table at Marek, who refused to meet his gaze. ‘Steiner, I’m so sorry.’

      ‘Why are you apologizing to me?’ He turned the sledgehammer brooch over in his hands. ‘You didn’t find witchsign on me. Real or not. It’s not you forcing me to take the ship to Frøya knows where.’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Verner. ‘I just wish …’

      ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Marek. ‘All this time. If it had been Kjell I might have understood.’

      ‘Hoy! Don’t speak of me as if I’m not sat here.’ Kjellrunn glanced at Steiner before looking away to the roaring flames in the fireplace.

      ‘And I was just beginning to find my way around the smithy,’ said Steiner with a bitter smile. ‘I might have made a good smith in time.’

      ‘The finest,’ said Verner, laying a hand upon his shoulder.

      Marek cleared his throat and stood up, his chair grating on the flagstones. ‘I have something for you.’

      ‘I’m going to be shipped off and killed, I doubt there’s anything that will help with that.’

      Marek looked to Verner and the fisherman nodded. ‘We don’t truly know that the children who are taken are killed.’ Marek sighed. ‘We don’t know what happens to them.’

      ‘What are you talking about?’ whispered Kjellrunn. ‘Every child from Svingettevei to Nordvlast knows the Empire kills anyone with witchsign.’

      ‘I’m already dead,’ said Steiner. ‘Everything else is just waiting.’

      ‘Come on,’ said their father, ‘I’ve something to show you.’

      The smithy welcomed Steiner into its darkness, the usual ruddy light escaping the edges of the furnace, the familiar smell of coal dust and hot metal. There was a tang of iron on the air like the promise of violence, like the taste