“Shove it up your snow-blowin’ arse!” Buff says. I glance at Jolie, who’s as silent and motionless as ever. If she can hear us, she’s getting a topnotch education on the intricacies of cursing. Buff’s as good a teacher as anyone.
“Sorry,” Buff says, covering his mouth with a rock-roll. “It’s easy to forget your…gut-slash is there sometimes.”
“Stop calling her that,” I say, feeling a flash of heat for the first time in three days. “Her name’s Jolie.”
“I know, it’s just hard—”
“And quit forgetting she’s there,” I interrupt. “She’s still a person. She’s still my little sister.”
Buff nods a heavy nod and right away I know I’ve been too hard on him. It’s not like he doesn’t have problems of his own. It’s not like he doesn’t care about Jolie. The fire in me dies quickly, like it was no more than a spark anyway, and I find myself backtracking. “Look, man, I’m sorry, it’s just…seeing her here like this, day in and day out, it’s getting to me.”
“Don’t apologize to me, Dazz. Everyone’s on edge. It’s natural. And she’ll…Jolie will come out of it. I know it.”
“Thanks,” I say, nearly breaking a tooth as I try to bite into the roll again.
Buff grins. “Alright, alright, I made them. But only because Darce was busy cleaning my father’s injuries.”
“How is he?” I say, wishing I’d asked right away. It’s so easy to get stuck in the snowdrift of our problems sometimes, so deep and cold that you can’t see anything else at all, even the important stuff.
“The slash he took from the rider should’ve killed him,” Buff says. “Even the healers can’t explain how the rider, in that position, didn’t manage to do more damage. It’s like he only did enough to keep my father from hurting him, so he could get past and on to the castle. The men he was with had similar injuries, none of them fatal. They’re healing up nicely.”
“That’s good,” I say, managing a weak smile. “And his leg?”
Buff frowns. “Not so good. When the horse stepped on him, his leg shattered into a whole lot of pieces. He won’t be able to work for a long time. But even that…” Buff trails off, staring at Jolie.
“What?” I say.
Buff tilts his head thoughtfully. “It feels like even that was an accident, like the rider didn’t want to hurt him badly.”
Now I frown. “Buff, that rider was lighting houses on fire, stampeding through the village with a sword, chopping down good men like your father. That’s no accident. It was the Stormers who took the children, too. I told you what the king said, they wanted my sister to marry one of their boys. They were going to force her to obey him. They’re evil.”
“The king was evil,” Buff says, “he might’ve lied to you.”
I close my eyes because I know Buff’s right. “Some of it was the truth,” I say. “He had no reason to lie.” Like the part about my sister being betrothed.
Buff sighs. “I know, I’m just saying it’s weird. My father said the horse was bearing down on him, about to stomp all over him, and then the rider pulled up sharply, like he didn’t want to step on him. The horse turned as best it could, but wasn’t able to avoid my father’s leg.”
“He still trampled him,” I say. “He still slashed him.”
“But didn’t you say one of the riders saved your life? That he left you with Jolie and gave his life to hold back the guards? That he told you to save her? Why would he do that if they wanted your sister? It doesn’t make sense.”
Vivid memories flash through my mind: the rider, dark-robed and menacing, stepping toward the king and my sister; his words, “You’re here for the girl?”; then, watching him leap past me and into the flow of guards, fighting them back while I barricaded the door. He did save my life. Maybe Jolie’s too. But why?
“He thought it was over,” I say. “He thought he’d killed the king, which apparently was what the Stormers were after in the first place. And he didn’t take Jolie because he knew he couldn’t possibly escape and abduct her.”
“Maybe,” Buff says. “But no one else in the village died. Other than the castle guards, casualties were zero. The Stormers massacred or injured almost every guardsman and then galloped off with their own injured on their backs. They could’ve taken over the entire village if they’d wanted—but they didn’t.”