Ice Country

“Is yer brother alright?” Skye says, lookingright at me.

“He’s not good,” I say. “We need to get helpfast. Hightower’ll need it too.”

“Circ too,” she says, motioning to whereSiena and Feve are holding Circ up, his arms draped over theirshoulders, hobbling on one leg.

“My people say the cold helps heal,” Fevesays.

“And what do you know about it?” I saysharply.

“I know of healing,” is all Feve replies. Heleaves Circ to Siena and bends to grab a handful of snow. “Packthis in your brother’s wound,” he says. “It might help with thebleeding.”

I don’t know if I can trust him, but I’ll tryanything that might help Wes, so I only watch as Buff grabs thesnow and pats it on Wes’s stomach.

“We gotta get to the Red District,” I say.“There are healers there who know how to be discrete.”

“We can’t,” Skye says. “This ain’t ourcountry. We hafta git back to the desert.”

“Trust me,” I say. “Healers first. Desertafter. We’ll go together.”

Wilde steps forward, a wicked gash ru

Skye’s fierce brown eyes are uncertain for amoment, but then she nods, says, “Move out!”

Before we charge through the White District,I look back, wondering if, at any moment, a horde of guards willpour from the gate, descending upon us like a swarm of demons.

Instead, I see only one man, high atop thewall. He holds a child in his arms.

With a slow, drawn out motion, he slides histhumb across his throat.

And it’s hard to see, because it’s dark andsnowflakes are falling, but I know…

I know.

It’s King Goff and he’s—he’s got—

He’s got Jolie.

And I don’t know if his death decree is meantfor me or for her.

~~~

We run, walk, limp, hobble, and carry eachother to the Red District.

It took every last bit of my self-control notto run back to the palace, to demand that Goff hand over my sister,to fight him and the rest of his guards, all of whom will be awakeand called into action.

But if he hasn’t hurt Jolie yet, it’sunlikely he’ll hurt her now. He told me himself that he needs her,that she’s some special trade item, whatever that means. And Wes isin trouble now, so he has to be my top priority. But even asBuff and I struggle along, carrying him, watching him fight in andout of consciousness, babbling like our drug-plugged mother,Jolie’s all over my thoughts. She’s calling to me, asking mewhy—WHY?—why did you leave me behind when you were so closeto finding me? I thought you loved me?

It’s all I can do to whisper, “I’m sorry,”and push onwards.

Although it’s the middle of the night when wereach the Red District, there’re lights on everywhere, musicplaying, men laughing. A man crashes through a swinging door,landing face first in a pile of snow. “And stay out, you drunk!” agruff voice calls after him.

A door to our left creaks open and there’sLola, looking as provocative as ever, something thin and silky tiedup top and around her waist. “By the Mountain Heart,” she murmurswhen she’s sees us leaving bloody footprints in the snow. Sheslinks back inside, slamming the door behind her.

Skye glances at me and I shrug. Just anothernormal night in this place.

“Turn here,” I say as we approach a crossroad.

Around the bend we stop at the secondbuilding on the right. There’s no sign, no placard, not evensomething spray-painted on the wall to describe what’s here. Youeither know it, or you don’t. Thankfully, after Wes demanded that Inever come home again looking like I’d been through a war, I foundthis place. They’ve stitched and bandaged me (and Buff too) up moretimes than I can count even with both shoes off and my toes warmingin front of the fire.

“Here,” I say.

“Here?” Skye says.

I nod. She shrugs and pushes the metal dooropen, holding it for me and Buff.

We carry Wes inside.

It smells like ’quiddy and burnt ice powderinside, but it’s not an underground drug and booze house. Thealcohol’s for sterilizing wounds and the burnt ice powder is anatural anesthetic, although I wouldn’t recommend using it for thatpurpose very often. As my mother has shown time and time again,it’s more addictive than a woman’s smile.

Maddy, the rough-edged woman who runs thejoint, is sitting at the desk when we barge in. “Good Heart!” sheexclaims. “Dazz?”

“Mads,” I say with a nod. “Wes needs urgentmedical care. So do some of the others.” I wave a hand back at theragtag group behind me. Her eyes widen. “All of us need treatmentfor one injury or another.”

“We’re all full up,” she says, frowning, hereyes jumping between Skye and Feve, who are standing next tome.

“Mads,” I say, not even attempting to keepthe desperation out of my voice. “Please.”

“I don’t even know where these—these strangepeople come from,” she says, her eyes narrowing on Feve’s markings,which curl out from beneath his skins and around his neck.

“Fire country,” I say. “They come from firecountry, and they need your help. I need your help.”

Every line in her face crinkles. “You gotsilver?” she asks.

“Nay,” I say, and I see her frown deepen. “Imean, not on us. But you know I’m good for it.”

“Ain’t got no silver, ain’t get no service,”she says crossing her arms.

My arms are burning from carrying Wes and allI want to do is collapse right here on her floor, refuse to move,force her to help us, but then Abe hobbles up next to me and says,“I got ple

Well, Mads pretty much jumps into gear afterthat, yelling for all her healers to come to the front immediatelyand stop helping the drunks with bruised knees and even morebruised egos. At least ten women come out, all wearingless-than-clean aprons—which I expect at one time were as white assnow, but which are now a yellowish-reddish-brown—about one pereach one of us, although those of us with minor injuries refusetreatment until Wes and Hightower and Circ and Abe are taken careof.

They usher us beyond the desk, through adoor, and into a large room, full of beds. As it turns out, theplace isn’t even close to “full up”, as Maddy said, and nearlyevery bed is empty. There are only two fellas being treated, eachwith similar looking head wounds that look suspiciously like whatyou might expect a gash from a shattered bottle over the head tolook like. The way they’re glaring at each other, I suspect theyhit each other at about exactly the same time. Well, Maddy tellsthem to get the chill out, and they do, pushing and shoving eachother the whole way.

The rest of us get a bed. Hightower getsthree, two side by side to accommodate his width, and one sidewaysalong the bottom for his length. His feet still stick off the end.He wiggles his toes and grunts. The three healers that surround himare scratching their heads and wondering aloud at how they’re goingto treat his many wounds. I also hear them say something aboutwhether Tower might be descended from the Yags.

Abe’s in a bed of his own, yelling orders andcurses at the two healers that look scared to be treating him.

Siena opts out of her bed, standing by Circ’sside, holding his hand, saying something that makes him laugh andthen wince when one of the healers does something to his injuredleg.

Feve skips the bed, too, standing by thedoor, his eyes dark, as if the king himself might come through.Mountain Heart help Goff if he does.

Buff, now naked from the waist up, sits nextto Wilde, chattering away as a healer looks at a dark and mottledbruise that covers half his abdomen. She looks amused, but her eyeskeep flicking around at the others, like she’s concerned for themtoo, while another healer bandages her head.

Skye and I stand across the foot of the lastbed, where Wes lies twitching in a fitful sleep. Every few minuteshe moans.