Sect Year 3 · eighth month · night of day 24 · the thirtieth life: a river county beyond the Wide Sea, his thirtieth year
The snow came down the Lower Road in the middle of the cold months and did not stop for nine days. On the second morning the barrier pole froze to its bracket, and the wagon drivers stopped coming up from the bridge. On the fourth morning the wind dropped, and the whole valley lay white and silent under a sky the colour of pewter. Orrec stood at the window of the toll-cabin with his hands wrapped in rags and looked at the road that was no longer a road.
“Culm Bend,” he said. “The headman sent a boy down yesterday. He could hardly stand when he got here.” He turned from the window. “They have children dying up there, and the road’s dead roll has to be sent to the county before the audit. You’ll take the sled. The carter with the bad leg will drive it, since he’s the only one who knows where the ford is under the snow.”
Imrin took the county’s form for the dead, folded it into his coat, and took the ledger with its black cover as well. The sled was a flat board on runners with a pair of oxen harnessed to it and a fire pot lashed in the middle. The carter, who had kept his cap pulled down to his eyebrows, did not speak once until…
