Ice Country

~~~

Every step up the mountain is like an arrowin my heart.

Before we leave, we wrap the kids in heavy,full-length coats that Abe has in his pack, so at least they’ll bewarm.

But everything else is awful. The brownchildren whimper and cast fearful glances around them as ifeverything in the forest is new to them, scary. Maybe it is. Dothey have trees in fire country? Probably not, as they send theirprisoners to ice country to chop wood.

Even though the kids are clearly scared,they’re like little soldiers, never complaining or crying. Theyjust march on, taking sips of water when we offer them, clinging tothe rope that tethers them together like it’s the only thingholding them up.

How can I be doing this? I ask myselfat least a dozen times, swishing around a taste so bitter it’sworse than yellow snow. For Jolie, I keep saying in my mind.Getting myself killed now will ensure everything I know is lost,and then she’ll have no chance at all. My only option is tocontinue to play along, wait for the right moment. Be smart. I feelbad about the kids I’m taking from their families, but I can’t helpthat either, can only hope that later I’ll be able to help them,along with Jolie.

When we reach the start of the snow-coveredslopes, which are shimmering under the pale moonlight, the kids’eyes light up, and I see the first indication that there’s stillsome measure of childlike joy in them. They even reach down andpick some up, giggling and dropping it when they feel the cold. Abegives them a look and I get the feeling that if I wasn’t around, hewould scold them and tell them to get a move on.

After a few more hours of trudging throughthe snow, the kids start to falter, tripping under their ownweight, slipping on patches of ice. They’re exhausted. Who knowshow far they had to walk across fire country before we metthem.

Just before we reach the final stretch to thepalace gates, Abe veers off to the right. “Where are you going?” Isay, breaking the no-question rule and floating the very lastsliver of my luck across the night sky.

“Gotta go the long way. Safer.” Safer forwho? Not for the dead-on-their-feet kids. Not for anyone but theking, who’s worried about the general public finding out about hissecrets. The Cure. His penchant for stealing children in the darkof the night.

“These kids have to rest soon,” I say.

Abe stops, glances at the kids, as if he’sforgotten they’re here, that they’re people, capable of weariness.Perhaps that’s the only way he can manage his guilt. Then, to mysurprise, he shrugs. “I’ll probably catch it from the king, but I’mready for bed too.”

He heads straight for the palace gate and wefollow. Before the gate, he says, “I’ll take it from here.”

“I’ll help you get them to bed,” I say.

“Not a chance,” Abe says. “They won’t letanyone in but me. Take a hike.”

Going home is the last thing I want to do.Thoughts of charging through the gates, fighting off sword- andbow-wielding guards with my bare fists, barging my way into theking’s quarters, knocking him senseless, and taking my sister backcycle through my head.

Then I turn and walk away, Buff by myside.

Over my shoulder, Abe’s voice carries on thewind. “Remember, don’t tell anyone what you saw tonight. Yer bein’watched. Always.”

Chapter Thirteen

Knowing and notbeing able to do anything is almost worse than not knowing atall.

Every day Buff and I think up a dozenhare-brained plans to infiltrate the palace and rescue Joles andall the other kids, Heaters and Icers alike, but every day we shootso many holes in our ideas that they cross the line from impossibleto no-way-in-chill-buddy.

At night I literally pull my hair out tryingto bully my brain into being smarter. In the morning I find strandsof black on my pillow. I want to tell Wes everything, but I’mafraid they’ll know if I do, and then I’ll end up like Nebo. Andbecause Wes’ll know, he’ll have to be taken out too.

It’s a problem without a solution. The onlything I have going for me is the job, which at least allows me tosee what’s going on at the border, what the king is up to. Butthen, one day, the Heaters don’t show up.

“Whaddya make of it?” Brock says, crackinghis knuckles and staring off into fire country. It’s a question,but I guess not one that’s against the rules.

Abe scratches his chin. “They were s’posed tohave supplies for us today. Something musta happened.”

“Like what?” Buff says.

“Who knows?” Abe says, grabbing a handful ofsand and letting it drift through his fingertips. It’s hotter downhere than I’ve ever felt before in my life, like sitting in aroaring fire. Even the light breeze is full of heat. Not even awisp of a yellow cloud mars the great red sky. And the sun? Chill!It feels so close and big I have to shield my eyes with myhand.

I remember everything Roan said the night hefailed to deliver the next batch of children. Shiv about beingattacked from all sides, by something called Killers, and thepasty-ski

At the palace gates, I say, “I want to be theone to deliver the news to Goff.”

“Forget it,” Abe says.

Feeling restless and tired, I say, “Try tostop me,” and march right for the gates, which start to open to letAbe in.

Abe grabs at my arm, but I shrug it off. Hemakes another grab, so I turn and push him, hard enough to get himto back off, but not as hard as the last time. To my surprise, heraises his hands in peace and lets me go.

“Don’t do anything stupid, kid,” he says.

Surprisingly, Brock and Hightower just watchme go, as if I’m their entertainment for the day. I reach thegates, which stretch higher than ten men on each other’s shoulders,an arched entranceway that’s normally barred by a heavy metal gatethat’s cranked open from below. The gate’s more than halfway upnow.

Two burly guards block my path, heavybattleaxes in their hands, crisscrossed between them. “I’m here tosee the king in place of Abe,” I say, hard-like, as if I reallybelong there.

“Those are not our orders,” Burly Guard Asays.

“Turn around and keep on walking,” says BurlyGuard B.

An important decision. To fight or not tofight? Why is it that I constantly have to make this decision overand over again? My standard answer used to be to fight, which Ipreferred, but now it’s like my brain’s taken over everything, andI don’t know up from down. If I fight a couple of palace guards,maybe I break through, get as far as the next group of guards, buteventually I get stopped. Lose my job if I’m lucky; get dead orchucked in prison if I’m not.

But Jolie’s in there! Argh! I know where mysister is—or at least I’m pretty icin’ sure—and yet I can’t do afreezin’ thing about it.

“I said, move on,” Burly Guard B says. Or isit A? I can’t remember, but all I know is I’ve been standing therefor way too long, drawing all kinds of attention from the wallguards, who are peeking over the edge at me, bows steady, arrownocked and ready to fly.

Not fight.

The decision burns me up inside like I atesomething rancy. It’s not a natural decision for me, but I knowit’s the right one.

I walk away, expecting the guards to grab meand pull me inside at any second, to do to me what they did toNebo.

But they don’t, leaving me wondering why Iseem to be able to get away with so much more than everyoneelse.