The Frost Child by Eoin McNamee

were lined up, then grabbed the tiller. The
Wayfarer
responded, surging forward. Soon only the masts of the Harsh ships were visible on the horizon, masts crowded with sail as they too set a course for the Workhouse, a Harsh song of war and ruin rising from the fleet for those with ears to hear.

R ose could not believe that the Workhouse was the same place that she had seen on her first night. Owen had bought time for the Resisters to finish building, and now it was a proud fortress, dominating the whole area around the river. Soldiers stood on the battlements and the Resisters’ unadorned black flag flew bravely. Walls and trenches had been erected at the river, and these were constantly patrolled.
    Inside, the transformation was complete as well. The corridors were crowded with men and women, and the huge kitchens were in full swing. Cati was often called away to meetings. Rosie found herself spending time with Rutgar’s soldiers, who were a homely lot.
    If she slipped into the kitchen and hung around until Contessa saw her, she would get an extra ration of bread and honey, or perhaps some soup.
    “You’ve had a hard time,” Contessa would say, “and you need building up.”
    Rosie was amazed by the amount of magno in the Workhouse—it was used for everything from lights to weapons. In Hadima magno was very scarce and precious, and often only found in its raw and dangerous state.
    On the second morning she came out of the kitchen carrying soup and water and a hunk of bread. She backed into the corridor, balancing her food in one hand while trying to close the door with the other. She jumped two feet into the air when her heel sank into something soft and there was a yell. The soup spilled all down her front and she swore out loud. She turned to see a barefoot boy sitting on the floor rubbing his foot.
    “What did you do that for?” she said angrily.
    “What do you mean, what did I do?” the boy snapped back. “It was you stood on my foot with your stupid shoes.”
    “You shouldn’t be walking around in your bare feet, anyway,” she said. “It’s not … hygienic. And I just got my dress cleaned and mended as well, and now it’s all soup.”
    They glared at each other.
    “Where do come from with your funny clothes and all?” the boy demanded.
    “Hadima,” Rosie said, “a big city. I’d say a country boy with no shoes has never seen a city.”
    Just then Contessa came out of the kitchen and saw them.
    “Oh, good,” she said, “I’m glad you two have met. Wesley, this is Rosie. You’ll have plenty to talk about, both being friends of Owen and Cati’s. Which reminds me,” she said, looking worried, “has Owen come back yet?”
    “I haven’t heard,” Wesley said. “I’ll go to the battlements and look.”
    “I’ll come with you,” Rosie said, faintly ashamed of squabbling when Owen was in danger.
    “Come on, then,” Wesley said. His tone was less sharp and she wondered if he was feeling the same way.
    Together they climbed to the battlements, Rosie pulling her coat tight around her. Wesley seemed immune to the cold.
    “Do you live in the Workhouse?” Rosie asked, trying to be polite.
    “No,” Wesley replied shortly, then added, “us Raggies live in the warehouse down by the sea. But Dr. Diamond, he reckons there’s a big attack coming and we wouldn’t be able to defend ourselves, so we had to come to the Workhouse.”
    Wesley gave a longing look toward the sea, and Rosie’s heart softened toward him. She was starting to miss her home in Hadima.
    “Wonder what the doc’s up to,” Wesley said, looking up at the Skyward. Dr. Diamond had disappeared into his lab at the top of the brass tower a day ago and had notcome out since. Rosie followed Wesley’s gaze. The windows of the Skyward were steamed up, so you couldn’t see in.
    “I’d love to see him again,” Rosie said.
    “No disturbing the doc when he’s working,” Wesley said. “Look!”
    Far below them, in the snowy