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Clipped behind the vote was a list of properties marked cleared and sealed: houses, farms, a chapel on the coast.

Near the bottom was Ironmoor.

The Lantern Tower (formerly the Hart House), wardens' quarters for Wildheart students. To be emptied, plastered and closed.

I thought of the white deer hidden beneath the plaster beside my bed.

The Hart House.

I thought of the white stag beneath the plaster beside my bed, lifting its head. They had put me in the one room on the island built for someone like me. I still didn't know whether that had been Oda's mercy or Mr. Aske's joke.

The fourth box held forty years of figures under the title Incidence of the Red among the Kindreds, following the Hollowing.

I barely needed the tables. The graph at the back told me enough.

The numbers had quadrupled.

Clipped behind it were the Culling schedules. Hundreds of pages of squad numbers, dates, and names.

I thought of Silas in the Pit with Varga's finger against his chest. Of him on his knees in the sand.

They had killed the people who could quiet the Red, then sent nineteen-year-old boys out to deal with what followed.

I turned the page.

The next document was a register.

Known Wildhearts living at the date of the Hollowing. Compiled by the Office of the Registrar, Iron Seat. 11 October 1985.

Six columns ran across the page: name, House, date of birth, Assessment date, disposition, and initials.

Most of the dispositions had been entered in red.

Deceased, 14.10.85.

Deceased, 14.10.85.

Severed, 2.11.85.

Deceased, 19.11.85.

The list had been worked through in six weeks.

There were sons on it too.

Clipped behind the register was a second list, newer and much longer.

Daughters of the line, non-manifesting. Maintained by the Office of the Registrar.

Beside every name were the same words.

Carrier. Monitor.

The earliest reviews dated from the winter after the Hollowing.

The latest was from seven months ago.

Somebody was still keeping track.