Iron Winter

spinning on a table. Why the world behaves this way is not clear. The Greeks were always divided. Some said the whole cosmic apparatus is like an imperfect machine — rattling like a badly tuned steam engine. Others believe that consciousness suffuses the cosmos; perhaps the earth makes a deferential dance around the sun, nodding and bowing like a courtier of New Hattusa.

‘But the why is not important. The question is, what difference does this make to us? And yes, fisherman, the difference is the sunshine. No two years are identical. Because of these features of the planet’s orbit and spin, in this epoch year by year the world is getting less sunshine — or to be precise, the strength of the sunshine falling on a given spot on the world, say here at Etxelur, at a particular time, say yesterday, midsummer solstice-’

Ywa said, ‘So you claim the whole world is cooling.’

‘I could tell you that,’ Crimm said. ‘More bergs every year. And the ocean currents are changing too. Any fisherman will tell you. We have to go further and further south to find the warm water that the cod like. And as for the catch itself-’ He went to his chair, pulled a canvas sack out from underneath it, and produced dried fish. He passed them around the group. ‘This is all we’re bringing home.’

Alxa got hold of one, a fish as hard as a wood carving. Sometimes still called by its traditional name of Kirike-fish, this was the main produce of the Northland’s fishing fleets, cod caught in masses and quickly salted and dried. It would keep for a year or more, and, easy to transport, was the staple of Northland’s provision of food to the rest of the Continent. But the fish seemed small to Alxa, who had seen fishermen return immense specimens before, some as long as the fishers were tall; this was less than the length of her forearm.

Crimm said, ‘The point is, we’re having to sail twice as far to return half the yield. Before you Annids decide how much to dole out to our continental neighbours, you need to remember that.’

Now the debate on the Giving Distribution started in earnest.

‘We must keep what we have for our own people,’ said one man. ‘If the trends Pyxeas describes continue, if our water courses freeze, if our trees fail to produce fruit-’

Rina shook her head. ‘That’s short-sighted. There are always more farmers than us — and some of them are already here. Nestspills from their failed farmlands in Gaira and the Continent, even from the fringes of Albia. Our guard and the mercenaries might keep some of them out. Far better to buy them off with a little cod than have them come here and consume everything.’

There were many objections to that, and the discussion grew heated.

Pyxeas was growing agitated. ‘You’re not thinking it through. Any of you. You’re not thinking it through.’ But for now, in a swirl of argument, nobody was listening.

The Coldlander boy was with him, silent and stolid. Pyxeas rested his hand on the boy’s arm. The stranger seemed to sympathise with the scholar, over dilemmas he could surely barely understand, and the little scene surprised and touched Alxa. Alxa suddenly felt very sorry for this ancient great-uncle, tortured by the knowledge that was evidently eating away inside him, knowledge he seemed so poor at sharing. She got up and went to him.

Pyxeas looked at her warily, squinting. ‘The light is so poor in here. You’re not Rina, are you?’

‘No. I am Alxa. Rina’s daughter.’ She took his arm and made him sit down, and knelt beside him, holding his hand. ‘Just tell me, Uncle. What is it that we don’t understand?’

He looked at her with a kind of bleak gratitude. ‘That this isn’t some anomaly. Some variation from the norm. These recent seasons of cold and rain and drought. The astronomical calculations prove it. . This is the future. It will get colder and colder. This is inevitable. Maybe you can buy off some of the farmers this season. But next summer, when they come again — what then?’

Still nobody else was listening.

Ywa clapped her hands to call for order. ‘Pyxeas, your contribution has been — umm, invaluable. Crimm, perhaps we can discuss the question of the fish stocks before we must face our guests again, and decide on the bounty we can afford. .’

They began to file out of the room.

Pyxeas, abandoned, collected together the scrolls and slates littering the floor with the Coldlander boy.

But Alxa stayed beside him. ‘Uncle,’ she said cautiously. ‘Are you saying you understand? You understand why, how, the world is cooling down?’

‘Yes. No! Not quite,’ Pyxeas admitted miserably. ‘There was a divergence.’

‘A divergence?’

‘According to the historical record there was a warming, when the world should have been cooling. Lasted up to about two millennia ago. An anomaly. I don’t know what caused it — don’t know why it ended — I don’t have the numbers to match the anecdotal evidence. Still less do I understand what caused it. And until I know all that, I can’t see the future with any definitiveness. And that’s why I needed to speak to the scholars of Cathay.’

Much of this went over Alxa’s head. ‘But you quoted the lines about the ice giants. You’re not saying the ice giants were real? And that — what? That they’ll come again?’

He looked at her, as if seeing her clearly for the first time with his rheumy eyes. ‘No, child. The ice giants weren’t real. People can only describe the things they see in terms they understand. But the ice — that was real.’

Rina came to Pyxeas now, and stood over him, evidently disapproving. ‘Then what must we do, in your opinion, Uncle?’

‘Leave here,’ he said simply.

‘What?’

‘Northland cannot be saved. Leave here — now, if you can, next year, if you must. No later.’

For a heartbeat Rina seemed so shocked she could not speak. Then she asked, ‘Who?’

‘All of you! All the family! And take the treasures — the lore of the ancients, the information in the archives. For that is how we will rebuild in the future, by remembering the past.’

‘Leave Etxelur? Leave the Wall? What are you saying? Where should we go?’

‘Anywhere that will take you — as far south as you can.’

‘Gaira?’

‘No — further, further!’

Rina seemed outraged. ‘Our ancient family should abandon Etxelur, after so long, all for a little cold weather?’

‘Not just weather. This is the longwinter, child. And it is returning-’

‘You quote myth at us, Uncle. Do you remember the words of the blessed Ana, when the sea first tried to take the land? We will not run any more. Single-handed she built a mound to defy the sea. We will not run. This is the future! This! That is what she said, and she inspired those who followed her, and Northlanders have not run from that day to this.’

Alxa stared at Pyxeas and her mother, barely comprehending, struggling to believe any of it. ‘And you, Uncle Pyxeas? What will you do?’

‘That’s obvious, isn’t it? My understanding is still incomplete, my compilation of information imperfect. I have to get it all together while there is still time. .’

‘Where will you go?’

‘Cathay, child. Cathay. Oh, do be careful with that slate, Avatak, you clumsy oaf!’

9

The First Year of the Longwinter: Autumn Equinox

In the end it was a poor summer, and a short one, with the heavy frosts coming even before the autumn equinox.

It had been a summer dominated by the after-effects of the previous winters. Lingering ice masses in the northern lands and in the mountains, though still scattered and separate, reflected away the sun’s