Frost came on the second morning.
This time, Harry woke up before the bells.
The cold had fallen deeper in the night, pushing through stone and wool alike and turning breath into pale smoke above his cot. He remained quietly for a bit, listening to the soft hum of the people around him who were sleeping. Rav was sleeping soundly across the aisle, with one arm hanging off his bed. A youngster was mumbling in his sleep somewhere near the distant wall.
For a few seconds, the dormitory felt nearly serene.
The first bell rang then.
It started as a far-off quake, a faint vibration that ran through the tower's bones. After a heartbeat, the sound flowed out in a slow, steady peal that sounded important instead of urgent. The bell didn't ring right away. It said.
Harry shut his eyes for a moment and then opened them again.
The second toll came next, and then the third. The beat was exact, steady, and never changed. It was more accurate than the sun at marking the structure of their days.
The dorms around him began to move. The blankets moved. The wood made a creaking sound. A cough interrupted the quiet, and then another one. Rav grumbled and turned over, blinking up at the ceiling.
"I was dreaming," he said quietly. "Warm Fire. "Real bread."
Harry pushed himself up. "That sounds risky."
Rav turned his head and squinted at him through eyes that were heavy with sleep. "You don't dream?"
"Not about bread."
The fourth bell rang.
As always, Brother Halven walked through the door of the dormitory, his robes crisp and his face calm. He looked around the room like he had done it before.
"Get up," he said. "The Light greets the faithful at dawn."
Harry stood up without thinking. He had understood how important it was to move quickly and avoid both praise and criticism.
The boys lined up and walked down the hall. The air outside the dormitory felt harsher and colder. The tower stones seemed to hold on to the cold of night even as dawn drew near.
Harry saw the weak gray Light coming through the thin slit windows as they went down the spiral staircase. The fog made it hard to see the town below, and the rooftops turned into blurry shapes. The smoke from the first hearth fires rose in thin, wavy lines.
The Church stood above everything else, unaffected by the frost that clung to the lower streets. The oil lamps in the chapel were brighter than they had been the morning before, and they produced lengthy shadows on the floor. As dawn grew higher, the stained-glass windows began to glimmer dimly, pouring color into the stone.
The kids quietly took their seats.
Malrec, the High Priest, was already there.
He stood by the altar, hands clasped in front of him, and talked quietly with Cardinal Veylan, whose slender body seemed to be swallowed up by his many layers of robes. Veylan's eyes were sharp and restless, darting at times to the kids present.
Harry saw as Malrec tilted his head toward a ledger that was on the altar table.
A list.
There was no fanfare before the prayer started.
"Radiant Father," Malrec said in a gentle, measured voice, "we thank you for the gift of light that guides our steps."
The kids all said the same thing at the same time.
Harry spoke clearly. His speech neither lagged nor led. He knew when to raise it and when to lower it, when to bow his head, and when to stare up at the painted saints above.
But this morning, when the Light behind the stained glass grew stronger, he looked at something else.
The boys who were chosen the day before were not there.
At sunrise, their beds were deserted.
He had seen.
The last prayer was said, and the people stood up.
"Stay seated," Malrec murmured.
A wave of stress went through the pews.
Malrec went forward, and the Light caught a glimpse of his silver pendant. "Our benefactors keep blessing this holy place." Their kindness makes sure you have food, a place to live, and an education in the Light.
His eyes slowly went over the kids.
"In exchange, some of you will work outside of these walls."
There it was again.
Serve. Repetition made the word smooth and shiny.
Cardinal Veylan went up and opened a small piece of parchment. Names were read. Three guys. One girl. They all stood as they were told, their faces pallid but calm. The girl's hands shook a little at her sides. Sister Arlena got closer to her and put a strong hand on her shoulder.
"Be thankful," Arlena said softly.
Rav stiffened next to Harry.
"This isn't right," Rav said quietly to himself.
Harry kept looking ahead. "Don't."
"They were picked just yesterday."
"I know."
The freshly chosen kids were led outside before the others were let go. Harry watched the door where the lines had disappeared as they broke up.
The frost outside would have hurt their faces. The path down the hill was bumpy and icy. He wondered if they had been told where they were heading. If they were guaranteed anything.
The mood in the refectory was heavier. There were fewer loud conversations. In the quiet air, the sound of wooden spoons scraping on bowls was louder.
Rav got closer. "That's six in two days."
Harry gave a small nod.
"They said the nobles from the southern estates are coming to see us," Rav added. "Maybe it's for internships."
"Maybe."
Rav looked at him closely. "You don't think that."
Harry took a little mouthful of bread before he spoke. "I think we don't know enough."
It wasn't a dodge. It was the truth. He had noticed the pattern for weeks. During morning prayer, some kids were called and taken away under supervision. A carriage often waited just outside the main gates, not long after. Not always the same cart. The crest isn't always the same. But always be careful.
After breakfast, the work tasks were given out. Harry and Rav were ordered to the courtyard to help stack wood. The frost had covered the logs with a thin layer of ice, making them hard to hold.
The air outside hurt bare flesh. Harry worked methodically, and even though it was cold, he didn't breathe hard. Rav moved with more force than he needed to, splitting wood with too much force.
"Do you think they're selling them?" Rav asked all of a sudden.
The axe hit the wood with a loud crack.
Harry didn't look up. "Be quiet."
"Nobody's close enough."
"They're still listening, though."
Rav thought for a moment before leaning on the axe handle. "I've heard things."
"From who?"
"Kitchen boys." They say that coins change hands.
Harry finally looked his pal in the eye.
"And you think the Church would sell kids?"
Rav kept looking at him. "Wouldn't they?"
The question hovered between them, weak and risky. Harry looked back at the pile of wood. "We don't have proof."
"But you saw it too."
Harry's jaw got a little tighter.
"Yes."
The admission felt heavier than the axe that Rav was holding. By mid-morning, the frost was starting to melt in the weak sunlight. The stones in the courtyard shone a little. Harry took the remaining logs that were stacked up to the storage shed. When he stepped back into the main hallway, he saw Cardinal Veylan talking to Brother Halven near the administrative wing.
A pouch was passed around.
It was subtle. Fast. But Harry did see it.
Veylan put the pouch in his sleeve without noticing the kids in the hall. His face didn't change, but his stance did. Harry quickly looked down and kept walking. His heart was beating faster.
Later that afternoon, the Bible lesson in class sounded like a jumble of words. The statements about heavenly compassion and holy stewardship didn't mean much when you saw the penny sink into the fabric.
Harry felt something change inside him when the last bell of the day rang for evening prayer. It wasn't wrath or full mistrust, but awareness. As night fell across the valley, the bells rang anew.
Their tone didn't shift.
Steady. Thoughtful. Authoritative.
The kids knelt in rows, and the candlelight flickered across their heads.
Malrec's voice got louder as he blessed.
"May the Light show the way to those who serve outside our walls."
Harry didn't bow as profoundly as the rest of them. He looked up at the stained glass above as the candles burned down and the chapel got darker. The painted angels looked calm in the fading Light, and their halos glowed softly against the darkening sky. The bells kept ringing slowly into the night. People in the town below could hear the faint sound of carriage wheels on the frozen road.
Harry paid attention. And for the first time, the bells didn't sound comforting. It seemed like a sign.