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.
I take a deep breath. “Look,” I say. “I didn’t sign up for kidnapping.” Kidnapping. That’s what it is. Taking kids from their homes. Just like…
I don’t need to finish the thought. I don’t want to finish the thought.
Because I already know.
If there’s a King who’ll take kids from another country, then he’ll take kids from his own country too.
“It’s just business,” Abe says, but there’s no conviction in his voice. “They give us kids, we give them the Cure. It’s not our job to think.” I might not know Abe that well, but I know enough to realize he’s more than just hired muscle. He’s got a brain. So why does he refuse to use it?
Brock moves to step around me, but I shift to block him. “What does the king do with them?” I ask, my sister’s face dancing around the question. I don’t want to know, but I have to know. If Jolie’s behind those palace walls, I need to know if she’s in any immediate danger.
Abe says, “Not my busin—”
“Tell me!” I explode, feeling veins popping out all over my forehead. Jolie. Jolie. Where are you?
Abe steps away, taken aback by my outburst. The kids huddle together even tighter.
“For the love of the Mountain, kid. Can you get a grip on yer temper?” Abe says. “Honestly, I don’t have a freezin’ clue what he does with ’em, and I don’t ask. He’d kil…” He leaves the thought hanging, unfinished. Instead says, “He pays me too well for that. And he’d kill me if I ever asked. Do you really not understand who yer dealin’ with? It’s the Heart-icin’ King for Heart’s sake! He’s got a whole freezin’ army of men just waitin’ to crush anyone who gets in his way. Do you think we’re the ones who killed Nebo? Do you really think we’re so heartless to not feel bad about what happened to him, too? He was strange, yah, but we liked him. I even shed a few tears for the stumpy little man. Ice, kid! Are you really so clueless? He’s got spies watchin’ us all, just waitin’ for us to make a wrong move, to cross him in any way. After all yer icin’ questions, I had to stick my neck out for you so he wouldn’t kill you, too!”
I raise a hand to my aching head, massage my temples. Abe stood up for me? The king’s watching us? The king trades the Cure for little kids—little kids just like my sister? Everything’s so tangled, like the forest, all knotted and growing and twisting together, vine-covered and spiky and windblown. I turn to look at the kids, who are hanging onto each other, whispering something that sounds like a prayer, to the Heart of the Mountain, or whoever it is that they pray to.
Turning back, I say, “They’re watching us right now?”
“Yah,” Abe says. “You try anything stupid and you’ll be bird-feathered with arrows before you get more than two steps.”
“Where?” I say, looking around.
“For Heart’s sake, kid, don’t look around. Ice!”
I bring my gaze back to Abe, repeat the question. He says, “They’re good at hiding. Even when you know they’re there, you rarely ever see ’em. They’re in the trees and in the brambles and under the leaves. They just watch…and wait.”
“Ice it!” I say. “We don’t have a choice here, do we?”
“No,” Abe says, his single word filled with regret.
~~~
Every step up the mountain is like an arrow in my heart.
Before we leave, we wrap the kids in heavy, full-length coats that Abe has in his pack, so at least they’ll be warm.
But everything else is awful. The brown children whimper and cast fearful glances around them as if everything in the forest is new to them, scary. Maybe it is. Do they have trees in fire country? Probably not, as they send their prisoners to ice country to chop wood.