Ice Country

Something about that just doesn’t seemfair.

Summer arrives and the snow starts to melt,but not completely, because it’s unusually cold for this time ofyear. The special cargo still hasn’t arrived and Abe’s gettinggrumpier by the day, probably because Goff’s getting even grumpierfrom behind his palace walls. He’s paying for the cargo with theCure, but he’s not getting anything in return. That’d make even themost happy-go-lucky king grumpy. And I have a feeling Goff isn’tthe happy-go-lucky kind.

Finally, however, one night when we show upfor a delivery, Abe’s usual angriness has melted away to a mutedmelancholy. “We’ve got special cargo tonight,” he says.

What does that even mean? I want to say, butas usual, I hold my question inside. I’m getting pretty good at itconsidering how many unanswerable questions I’ve got.

Buff and I just nod as if we understand.

Brock and Hightower show up a few minuteslater and Abe says the same thing to them, and they don similarlygloomy expressions. Why do they look so miserable? Isn’t thespecial cargo what we’ve all been waiting for? On a night likethis, I’d expect them to be smiling wolfishly, gri

The five of us take the usual route to theborderlands, except we have to dismount our sliders earlier thanusual, on account of the less than usual snow as we approach thebottom. It may be a cold summer, but down the mountain it’s muchwarmer this time of year. We trudge the rest of the way through theforest, which is teeming with fresh, green life, thicker than Yo’sbeard.

There’s a commotion when we reach firecountry. I stand stock still for a moment, taking it all in,wondering what and where and when and huh? Then I think,What the freezin’ son of a goat herder? There’s no cargo,just five adult Heaters, standing tall and brown around a clusterof children. Heater children. None of them look older than—

—I can barely even think it but—

—older than my sister. In fact, all of themare much younger.

The thought sits in my brain like a dullache. “What’s going on?” I say aloud, finally letting one of myquestions slip out and away.

“Just stay cool,” Abe says, warning me offwith his eyes. “There’s no going back from this point, so I’llanswer your questions after it’s over.”

I want to grab him by the shirt, lift him up,shake him till he spills it, tells me everything he knows. But, asusual, I don’t. Can’t. It’s not the right time—not the right way. Ihave to be patient.

We approach the Heaters.

One of them steps forward. These men aredressed like Roan was, more covered, less wild-looking. They areclearly Roan’s fellow leaders. The Greynotes. “Will seven unitscover us through the summer?” the Heater asks.

Abe walks around the children, who cower inthe middle, lashed together, just a splash of brown with arms andlegs sticking out every which way. He eyes them up, from head totoe, as if inspecting a prize sled dog. “They strong?” he asks.

“Always are,” the Heater replies.

Abe nods. “That should do it. You’ll get theherbs till autumn, then we’ll have to talk to Roan again, agree o

What the chill? I think, tired ofthinking that same question over and over, as if I can’t evenformulate a more intelligent thought.

“They’re all yours,” the Heater says, wavinghis hand in a circle. In a pack, the Heaters stride off, back intofire country, the desert moon beating a shimmering path across thesand.

The children look at us with scared,unblinking eyes.

“Round ’em up,” Abe says.

Right away, Brock and Tower step toward theHeater children, cracking their knuckles and almost daring them torun. Without thinking, I step in front of them, blocking theirpath. Buff does the same, shoulder to shoulder.

“Git outta our way,” Brock says. Tower gruntshis own complaint.

“Not till you tell us what this is allabout,” I say. “These are kids—not cargo.”

Abe sighs, as if he’s been through thisconversation too many times before. I wonder just how manytimes—for how many kids. “I told you I’ll tell you and I will,” hesays, “but not until we get ’em back to the palace.”

“Nay,” I say.

“Excuse me?” Abe’s voice is incredulous. He’snot used to being denied. “Are you forgetting rule number one?”

“You can take rule number one and shove it upyour—”

“Dazz!” Buff says sharply. He’s thinking withhis brain, and I’m thinking with my heart. If we start a fighthere, we’ll lose. We’ve been in ple

I take a deep breath. “Look,” I say. “Ididn’t sign up for kidnapping.” Kidnapping. That’s what itis. Taking kids from their homes. Just like…

I don’t need to finish the thought. I don’twant to finish the thought.

Because I already know.

If there’s a King who’ll take kids fromanother country, then he’ll take kids from his own country too.

“It’s just business,” Abe says, but there’sno conviction in his voice. “They give us kids, we give them theCure. It’s not our job to think.” I might not know Abe that well,but I know enough to realize he’s more than just hired muscle. He’sgot a brain. So why does he refuse to use it?

Brock moves to step around me, but I shift toblock him. “What does the king do with them?” I ask, my sister’sface dancing around the question. I don’t want to know, but I haveto know. If Jolie’s behind those palace walls, I need to know ifshe’s in any immediate danger.

Abe says, “Not my busin—”

“Tell me!” I explode, feeling veins poppingout all over my forehead. Jolie. Jolie. Where are you?

Abe steps away, taken aback by my outburst.The kids huddle together even tighter.

“For the love of the Mountain, kid. Can youget a grip on yer temper?” Abe says. “Honestly, I don’t have afreezin’ clue what he does with ’em, and I don’t ask. He’d kil…” Heleaves the thought hanging, unfinished. Instead says, “He pays metoo well for that. And he’d kill me if I ever asked. Do you reallynot understand who yer dealin’ with? It’s the Heart-icin’ King forHeart’s sake! He’s got a whole freezin’ army of men just waitin’ tocrush anyone who gets in his way. Do you think we’re the ones whokilled Nebo? Do you really think we’re so heartless to not feel badabout what happened to him, too? He was strange, yah, but we likedhim. I even shed a few tears for the stumpy little man. Ice, kid!Are you really so clueless? He’s got spies watchin’ us all, justwaitin’ for us to make a wrong move, to cross him in any way. Afterall yer icin’ questions, I had to stick my neck out for you so hewouldn’t kill you, too!”

I raise a hand to my aching head, massage mytemples. Abe stood up for me? The king’s watching us? The kingtrades the Cure for little kids—little kids just like my sister?Everything’s so tangled, like the forest, all knotted and growingand twisting together, vine-covered and spiky and windblown. I turnto look at the kids, who are hanging onto each other, whisperingsomething that sounds like a prayer, to the Heart of the Mountain,or whoever it is that they pray to.

Turning back, I say, “They’re watching usright now?”

“Yah,” Abe says. “You try anything stupid andyou’ll be bird-feathered with arrows before you get more than twosteps.”

“Where?” I say, looking around.

“For Heart’s sake, kid, don’t look around.Ice!”

I bring my gaze back to Abe, repeat thequestion. He says, “They’re good at hiding. Even when you knowthey’re there, you rarely ever see ’em. They’re in the trees and inthe brambles and under the leaves. They just watch…and wait.”

“Ice it!” I say. “We don’t have a choicehere, do we?”

“No,” Abe says, his single word filled withregret.