Gard has stepped aside to let the new prisoners enter, watching silently and with one eyebrow arched as they’re lashed to the pole. A strange clump of brown and white.
“Welcome to the party,” Dazz says as the other pale-skinned guy is tied next to him.
“Of all the searin’ stupid things…” Feve mutters.
“Like you can talk, o’ wise one,” the skinny girl says, “it was yer idea to get yerself caught in the first place!”
“Shut it! All of you!” Gard snaps. Silence ensues once more, but it’s less absolute, filled with ragged breathing, occasional coughs, and lots of scuffling and scraping as the prisoners try to get comfortable.
Gard steps forward. “And these are the hundred men that had us surrounded?” he says, directing his question to Dazz.
“Uhhh…” Dazz says.
“I see,” Gard says. “Then the one you call Feve must die at dawn.”
Everyone starts yelling at once.
~~~
It takes a whole lot of screaming and the swords of each of the Riders to restore order. I’ve got the tip of my sword up against Dazz’s neck, and Remy’s next to me with his blade pointed at the smiley white-skinned guy. He’s not smiling anymore.
“This is burnin’ crazy!” the muscly girl exclaims when things have quieted down. “You steal our children and then git all hot and bothered when we come askin’ questions? That’s a load of tugblaze if you ask me.”
Things have been so strange and out of control that I’d forgotten what got us here in the first place.
We are only here to understand why you steal our children. Dazz’s words on the edge of camp—the words that stopped me from killing him right then and there.
I stare at him now. “Or don’t you know?” he says. “Is your so-called war leader keeping it from you? He trades the Cure for the Heater children. He tried to buy my sister to marry his son.”
His words bounce off my face, numbing my skin. None of it makes any sense. It’s the Soakers who trade for the children. That’s why my mother rode to ice country, as my father foretold. And what’s all this about Remy marrying this pale guy’s sister?
“Enough!” Gard snaps. “Enough of the lies! They won’t save you now.”
“Wait,” I say, my mind ticking over everything that’s just been said, trying to make sense of it. “We have to understand.”
Gard’s eyes narrow for a second, but then he nods once. Carry on.
“Why do you think we’re stealing the Heater children?” I ask.
“Not stealing—trading. But I guess it’s more or less the same thing. Your”—he waves his arms around the tent at all of us, at the Riders—“warriors attacked my village, burning and frightening the people half to death.”
“We killed the king,” I say, nodding. So far I don’t disagree.
“No,” Dazz says. “I captured the king.”
Gard suddenly strides forward, his expression wide. He grabs Dazz by the top of his shirt, turns his face toward the light. “Wait…I know you.”
Dazz’s eyes flash with recognition. “And I you,” he says. “You’re the one…” He trails off.
“Who saved your ass and left you with the girl,” Gard says. “Your sister.”
“And the king,” Dazz says. My eyes dance back and forth between them, trying to make sense of a story I wasn’t a part of.
“The dead king,” Gard corrects.
Dazz shakes his head. “No, you’re wrong.”
“I know when I’ve killed a man,” Gard says sternly, but there’s no anger in his voice, only certainty.
“Oh, the man was dead,” Dazz agrees. “But he wasn’t the king. He was only a puppet figurehead—the captain of the guard. I injured the real king and saved my sister. The sister who you”—the word shoots from his mouth like a knife—“wanted to force to marry your son, using my life as leverage so she’d obey him.”
“No,” Gard says. “I swear that’s not true.” Not a lie, just not true. There’s been a change in Gard’s tone over the last few minutes. He’s no longer accusing the intruders; rather, trying to get to the truth. “I would never…It’s the Soakers who were taking the children from Goff, trading for them. They must’ve been the ones who wanted your sister.”
“It’s true,” I say. “The Riders only went to your country to stop them. We were against the slave trade from the beginning. All we wanted was to send a message, to kill the king.”
Dazz stares at me, his expression heavy with confusion. He tries to raise a hand to his face, but when he remembers it’s tied behind him, he settles for knocking the back of his head against the pole.
“I knew it,” the guy next to him says. “I knew it when you only burned the empty houses, when you only killed the castle guardsmen.”
“So it’s the searin’ baggard Soakers who took my sister?” the strong girl says on the other side of the pole. Her voice is deep and raspy.
I nod, and then realizing she can’t see me, say, “Yes. I swear it on the souls of my parents and brother, may Mother Earth keep them.”
“And what of the Cure?” Feve says evenly.
“The cure for what?” Remy asks.
For the first time, the unmarked brown-skinned guy speaks. “For the Fire. For the Cold. For the illness that kills our people. Do you have a terrible disease in storm country?”
“The Plague,” I whisper, the word becoming bigger and bigger in my head, pushing on my skull. A headache throbs just above my nose. “My father…”
“The Plague,” Dazz whispers back. “It killed my father too.”
“And my mother,” the skinny girl says softly.
“Who was my mother, too,” the muscly girl says. So they are sisters after all.
“You say you have a cure?” Gard asks.
“Not us,” Dazz says. “Whoever trades it to the Icers for the children. The Soakers, you say?”
“Yes,” Gard says. “But we’ve seen it. It’s nothing more than dried sea plants, plucked from the shores and gathered in bags.”
“You can get it?” Dazz says sharply.
“Yes, but it’s nothing. Just plants.” Gard crouches next to me, as large as a bear. “You mean you think it’s a cure for the Plague?”
“Yes,” Dazz says, nodding vehemently. “Why else would the Heaters and Icers go to so much trouble to trade children for it?”
“Are you sure it works?” I say.
“It must,” Dazz says. “You say you’ve seen it. Surely you’d know if it had healing properties.”
“We don’t consume anything that comes from the sea,” Gard says. “It’s not clean.”
There’s silence for a moment as everyone processes what’s been said so far. Remy breaks the silence with a question directed to Dazz. “You say your sister was to be taken and married to—well, you thought it was me, but it could only be Admiral Jones’ son?”
“You’re his son?” Dazz says, motioning to Gard.
“Yes, but I swear—”
“I know,” Dazz says, forcing a smile. “You’re not the one who was supposed to marry my sister. Otherwise you’d be dead already.” His smile hangs for a moment, but no one returns it. “Who’s this Admiral Jones fellow?”
“The leader of the Soakers,” Gard says. “He commands their entire fleet.”
“I’ll kill those baggard Soakers,” the older sister says. Suddenly I’m starting to like her a lot more.
But then, looking at the pale face of the Icer sitting in front of me, my thoughts turn back to my mother, bloody and dying. “Did you fight the Riders when they came?”
“No,” Dazz says quickly. And then, “Well, yes, but not because we wanted to. The Riders were fighting the castle guards; we were only trying to get to the king, to get to my sister. We only fought those who tried to stop us. There were Riders who mistook us for their enemies.”
Cold fingers run along the back of my neck. He might’ve been the very Icer who killed your mother, the Evil says. Honor her! AVENGE HER!