Ice Country(35)

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

After a few more hours of trudging through the snow, the kids start to falter, tripping under their own weight, slipping on patches of ice. They’re exhausted. Who knows how far they had to walk across fire country before we met them.

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

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

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

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

He heads straight for the palace gate and we follow. 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 let anyone 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- and bow-wielding guards with my bare fists, barging my way into the king’s quarters, knocking him senseless, and taking my sister back cycle through my head.

Then I turn and walk away, Buff by my side.

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





Chapter Thirteen





Knowing and not being able to do anything is almost worse than not knowing at all.

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

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

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

“Whaddya make of it?” Brock says, cracking his 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 to have supplies for us today. Something musta happened.”

“Like what?” Buff says.

“Who knows?” Abe says, grabbing a handful of sand and letting it drift through his fingertips. It’s hotter down here than I’ve ever felt before in my life, like sitting in a roaring fire. Even the light breeze is full of heat. Not even a wisp 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 my hand.

I remember everything Roan said the night he failed to deliver the next batch of children. Shiv about being attacked from all sides, by something called Killers, and the pasty-skinned Glassies, and something about the Wildes stealing their girls, or some such rot. When all the time he’s been giving away his children to King Goff anyway, so who is he to complain? Whatever the case, though, something’s gone wrong, which means we have no choice but to trudge back up the mountain empty handed.

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

“Forget it,” Abe says.

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

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