Ice Country

“Sorry,” I say, feeling hot, although there’sa cool chill in the dank dungeon air. “Look, I’m not trying todefend Goff, or Roan, I’m just trying to understand things.” Iwonder if now’s the time to ask about the children cargo. Probablynot, there’s enough on the table already.

“Us, too,” Wilde says. “Skye?”

“I’m sorry, too,” she says, although I’m notsure she would’ve said it if Wilde hadn’t pushed her to.

“Maybe I can help,” I say. “Let me tell youwhat I know.”

~~~

So I tell them mostly everything, from thebegi

“So Goff is keeping the Cure all for himself,too,” Wilde says. “Interesting. We thought part of the tradeagreement was keeping the Heaters out of ice country so as to notspread the Fire.”

“Not spread the Fire?” I say. “TheCold—that’s what we call it—kills many of us every year. Somethingabout the snow and ice and cold air slows it down, so we live alittle longer, but it still gets us all eventually, like it did myfather a while back.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilde says. “About yourfather.”

“Me, too,” I say.

“Goff sounds like our father,” Siena says.“Eviler’n a pack of Killers scorch bent on biting their fangs intoanything that moves.”

“Yah, well, we’re learning very quickly thathe’s not such a good guy,” Buff says.

“Where’s he get it?” Siena throws out there.“The Cure.”

It’s another good question none of us knowthe answer to. “I’ve taken a fair look at the dried herbs,” I say.“But it’s nothing I’ve seen growing on the mountain. But it’spossible he grows it right in the palace somewhere.”

No one has anything to say to that. Aquestion they’ll be able to answer pops into my head. “Why’d youcome here anyway?” The question I don’t ask is: why’d you sneak inthe way you did?

“The Cure,” Siena says. “Mostly. We want toget more of it for our people, to stop the death. Whatever’s in theair is killin’ us all, one by one. We can’t barely live pastthirty. We were go

“When we told him Roan was dead, he threw usall back down here,” Circ explains. “He didn’t look like he’d beletting us out anytime soon.”

And there it is. Unless Wes can come throughfor us, we’re all freezed. I’ll keep that to myself too.

~~~

Everyone goes silent for a while after that,each lost in their own thoughts. Mine are like dead leaves in thewind, drifting and swirling and scattering every which way, ashaphazard and random as falling snow. Too many questions and notenough answers.

But mostly I just think about Jolie. Whethershe’s wandering the palace somewhere, carrying a bucket, orplanting seeds in the palace gardens that will sprout the stemsthat’ll eventually grow into the Cure plants. Whether she’sthinking about me, about ways to escape so she can come home.Whether she’s tried to escape and gotten caught, been punished.Whether Wes’s seen her around, and is biding his time to get us allout together. Wes has always been so icin’ good at protecting us,at taking care of us. Can he do it now?

Then I hear a voice through the hole in thewall, raspy but whispered. “Hey, Icy,” Skye says. “You there?”

“It’s Dazz,” I say, peering through the hole.“And where else would I be?”

She laughs and I see her lips turned up intoa smile. She’s not looking through the hole—just talking throughit, laughing through it. “Good’un. I meant if you were sleepin’,but considerin’ yer speakin’ to me, I s’pose you ain’t.”

“I ain’t,” I agree.

“Watcha doin’ down ’ere?” Skye asks. “Watchain for?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” I say, trying to thinkup a good response.

“No, you stopped yer story when you followedus through the woods and found where we got caught.”

“We picked a fight with a coupla of castleguards,” I say, bending the truth just a little for effect. Wedidn’t actually fight them, although I definitely wanted to.

“You did what? Are you wooloo?” The wordrolls around in the hole, clattering against the sides like apebble. I can easily guess what wooloo means.

“Uh, yah, I guess we are,” I say, wonderingif being crazy is a really bad thing where she comes from.

She laughs and I admire her lips. I couldreach through and touch them so easily. Shame I can’t fit my headthrough. I’ve never made out in a dungeon before. “We’re all alittle wooloo too,” she says. “Hafta be to survive firecountry.”

I steer the topic away before she asks anymore questions. “You know, the only reason you knocked me out inthe woods was because I was surprised you were a girl,” I say.

“Ha!” Her laugh echoes loudly through thedungeons. “Surprised, eh? Seems to me you were the one chasin’me.”

“Yah. But when you turned and you wereso—so…”

“So what?” she says, a smile in her question.I wish I could see her face again. All I’ve got is a memory, a setof eyes, and a pair of lips to go offa.

I laugh. “So…not a guy,” I say.“Except for the hair.”

“Short hair don’t hafta be a guy,” shesnaps.

“Nay, I didn’t mean—I’m not saying—” I’venever been this rattled talking to a woman before. When I wascourting the witch I was as smooth as butter, at least up until thepoint where she cheated on me and threw me out on my arse.

“What’re you sayin’?” she asks, once morelaying the pressure on hard.

My face is hotter than fire country. “I’msaying I like it. Your hair. I like your hair. I like everything.”Buff chuckles. I realize my voice has risen like the temperature onthe way down the mountain. Our private conversation is no longerprivate.

A hard voice says, “I think you’ve saidenough.”

Feve has spoken.

Buff chuckles again. “More than enough,” headds.

Chapter Nineteen

Not much happens fora day.

The dungeon’s not so bad, mostly because mycell’s right next to Skye’s, and she’s been pretty set on sittingnear our shared hole, so I get glimpses of her all the time. Astrong shoulder. A slender neck. Did I mention her lips?

A few times I think I’m doing something wrongby paying her so much attention, because I should be focused onfinding Jolie—which I am—but it’s kind of hard to find your sisterwhen you’re locked in a tiny cell. So I figure anything to pass thetime is fair game—at least until Wes breaks us out.

Which he will.

Of that I’m certain.

Well, mostly certain.

When I think it’s near the end of the day,Big brings us each a thin metal dish of something gruel-like, buteven under the torchlight it’s hard to identify what it is. Ittastes like a mixture of dirt and bark, so maybe that’s what it is,seasoned with yellow snow and fried up in a big old pot, madespecial for prisoners. Wanting to stay strong, I eat it anyway.

Skye messes with Big on the way out. “Hey,Big,” she says.

“Eat your food!” he says.

“I will. It’s just, there’s this nastysearin’ fungus goin’ ’round and I been wonderin’ if you knowanythin’ ’bout it.”

What’s she up to?

Big stops sharply. “I’m the one who told yaabout it, Woman. When I tossed you in ’ere.”

“Was it you?” Skye says, false question inher voice.