Ice Country(33)

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

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

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

Buff and I just nod as if we understand.

Brock and Hightower show up a few minutes later and Abe says the same thing to them, and they don similarly gloomy expressions. Why do they look so miserable? Isn’t the special cargo what we’ve all been waiting for? On a night like this, I’d expect them to be smiling wolfishly, grinning like banshees, all excitement and energy. Not so…somber.

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

There’s a commotion when we reach fire country. 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 cluster of children. Heater children. None of them look older than—

—I can barely even think it but—

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

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

“Just stay cool,” Abe says, warning me off with his eyes. “There’s no going back from this point, so I’ll answer 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, as usual, I don’t. Can’t. It’s not the right time—not the right way. I have to be patient.

We approach the Heaters.

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

Abe walks around the children, who cower in the middle, lashed together, just a splash of brown with arms and legs sticking out every which way. He eyes them up, from head to toe, 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 the herbs till autumn, then we’ll have to talk to Roan again, agree on new terms.”

What the chill? I think, tired of thinking that same question over and over, as if I can’t even formulate a more intelligent thought.

“They’re all yours,” the Heater says, waving his hand in a circle. In a pack, the Heaters stride off, back into fire country, the desert moon beating a shimmering path across the sand.

The children look at us with scared, unblinking eyes.

“Round ’em up,” Abe says.

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

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

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

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

“Nay,” I say.

“Excuse me?” Abe’s voice is incredulous. He’s not used to being denied. “Are you forgetting rule number one?”

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

“Dazz!” Buff says sharply. He’s thinking with his brain, and I’m thinking with my heart. If we start a fight here, we’ll lose. We’ve been in plenny of scraps, and we know how to fight, especially together, but these guys are no less experienced, and they’ve got Hightower, which is like having three guys in one body.