Ice Country(32)

“But you still have your alliance with the Marked?” Abe says. I’m trying to keep up with the conversation, but most of it’s going in one ear and out the other. Killers? Wildes? Marked? At least I understand the Glassies, but why would they want to wipe out the Heaters?

“I’d hardly call it an alliance,” Roan says. “More like an understanding. But yes, we trade wood and food for their services.”

“So what’s the problem?” Abe persists.

“We couldn’t get any cargo this season,” Roan says. I want to scream out “What is the freezin’ cargo?” but I know if I do I might end up in a snowy grave next to Nebo.

Abe shakes his head, a look of wonder crossing his face. “You couldn’t, or you wouldn’t?”

Roan’s jaw goes tight and I see his hands curl into fists. His face turns a darker shade of brown. I know those signs. This is a man with a temper. A bad one, maybe worse than mine, which would be saying something. And his dark expression isn’t saying punch and wrestle and fight…it’s saying kill.

“Couldn’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “We’ll have cargo for you at the end of spring.”

“Ha!” Abe laughs. “You expect to get your precious herbs for a full season based on the promise of cargo in three months’ time? Is that really what you want me to tell the king?”

Roan steps forward, his face speckled with starlight and mottled with anger. “You will do what I tell you to do, and let Goff make the decisions. You’re nothing but a filthy messenger.”

I almost laugh, but manage to hold it in, passing it off as a cough. The tension is so tight that no one even looks my way. Abe’s trying to hold it together, to keep a brave face, but I can see he’s intimidated by Roan, his lip quivering, his cheeks sagging. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll tell the king what you said. But no promises.”

“Good,” Roan says. “When he agrees to the new terms, which I’m confident he will, bring the Cure here in three days’ time.”

As we turn and walk away, one word thumps through my head: Cure.





Chapter Twelve





“Cure for what?” I say, already knowing the answer.

“There’s only one thing that needs a cure,” Buff says.

“The Cold,” I say.

“They call it the Fire,” Buff says.

“The Fire…” I murmur, as if it’s something sacred, like the Heart of the Mountain. “But Goff can’t have a cure for the Cold—the Fire. People are dying of it more than ever. Almost every day.” I know the answer to that too, but I want Buff to confirm it.

“He’s keeping it from us,” Buff says.

“And giving it to the Heaters.” Ice him! Freeze him! How can he have a cure and not share it with his own people? But wait…

“But the Heaters are still dying of the Fire. I hear them talking about it all the time when we go to the border,” I say, frowning. It clicks and this time I don’t wait for Buff to say it first. “Roan’s keeping it from his people too, because he’s only getting enough for himself and maybe the other leaders.”

“Icin’ straight,” Buff says.

It’s all coming together. The secrecy. Why the king had to have Nebo killed off. Not because he knew, but because he might talk about it. If we were able to draw a bit of information out of him, then maybe someone else could get the whole story. And the king couldn’t have that. There would be mutiny, rebellion. The Icers would string him up from a tree branch.

We killed Nebo.

The realization hits me like a winter wind, chilling me to my bones. If we hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t got him riled up enough to tell us about the medicine, he might still be alive. But how would the king have known what Nebo told us? One of his men must’ve been spying. “Ice it!” I say.

“What do we do?” Buff says.

“Nothing,” I say. “There’s more to this story, and we need to know everything before we make a move.” Starting with what the special cargo is that Roan failed to deliver. Unfortunately, that means we’ll have to wait until the end of spring to find out.





~~~





We play the game, show up for work every few days, deliver blah blah blah to the border, collect some other blah blah blah and lug it back to the castle. Evidently King Goff buckled to Roan’s new terms, because every few weeks we deliver bags of the Cure. Keeping the Heater leader alive and free of the Fire, while Icers and Heaters continue to die from the Cold.

Something about that just doesn’t seem fair.