Fire and Ice

by Shannon Hale

  “We’re looking for Suka,” said Tarik.

  There was a brief pause, and Pia turned so still and thoughtful that she seemed to have fallen asleep with her eyes open.

  “She’s a giant polar bear,” Rollan prodded. “You know, from the stories? The stories that mention this village? That you are living in right now? No? Nothing?”

  Pia’s eyes darted to Rollan and back to Tarik, and then she laughed. “Suka! Well, she’s not here at the moment, but I expect her to stop by for supper any minute.” Pia laughed again.

  An expression of measured disappointment clouded Tarik’s face. Abeke hoped it wasn’t a sign of bad things to come.

  “Greencloak scholars uncovered several legends that say Suka showed favor to your town,” said Tarik. “Sup­posedly the last place she was seen was here in Samis.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard the legends,” said Pia. “But legends are old, and if Great Suka used to favor our town, she hasn’t been to Samis in many, many lifetimes.”

  “She used to drink from a pond here,” said Tarik. “May we see it?”

  Pia hesitated, but then that wide smile returned. “Of course. It is sacred to us, so I’ll ask you not to touch the waters. Follow me.”

  At the very north end of the village grew two ancient willows, their branches sheltering a pond. Perhaps the pond was natural, but people had placed stones around it, even lining the pond’s bottom with smooth, flat rocks. The water was so clear, Abeke could see the stones easily through five or ten feet of water. The surface rippled as if stirred by a breeze, though Abeke felt nothing.

  “This is Suka’s pond,” said Pia. “She . . . Legend says she used to come here once a year and drink.”

  “How could Suka get here when the village is walled in?” asked Rollan.

  “You think that a little wall would slow down a Great Beast?” asked Pia. “Besides, this was long ago, before the wall surrounding Samis was built.”

  She gestured to a carving of an upright polar bear, cut from a jagged white rock.

  “We honor her with this memorial, but of course we have no idea where Suka has been hiding all these years.”

  “It seems weird to me that you would flat-out lie to us like that,” said Rollan.

  Pia started, then smoothed her features.

  “Rollan,” Abeke whispered. Maybe he’d never learned to respect his elders. If Abeke had dared talk like that to her father, she’d get switch whipped.

  “That’s an impertinent thing to say, young man,” Pia said.

  Rollan shrugged. “Sorry. Still true. You’re hiding something.”

  Essix wasn’t perched on Rollan’s shoulder. Could Pia’s lies be clear enough that Rollan could detect them even without his gyrfalcon in direct contact? Or perhaps his spirit-animal-enhanced intuition was getting stronger.

  “You say Suka came before the wall was built,” said Meilin. “Yet the layers of reindeer moss growing on the wood shows the wall’s age, going back to even before the time of the Devourer, perhaps.”

  “I had a dream last night,” said Conor. “I thought it was just a dream, not a dream dream, you know what I mean?”

  Abeke nodded. Since bonding with Briggan, Conor sometimes had prophetic dreams.

  “But I recognize this pond from my dream,” Conor continued. “A group of elderly people was staggering along toward it, and their faces were eager.”

  Pia’s pale face turned even paler.

  Abeke had kept Uraza in passive state up till now so as not to seem hostile, but she needed her leopard’s aid now. She reached a hand slowly toward the pond, palm up, almost as if the waters were a wayward puppy she was about to call toward her. In a quick motion she brought her fingers into a fist, and Uraza flashed into existence. Pia stumbled back a step, stunned at the appearance of yet another Great Beast, even though like Briggan, Uraza was the size of a normal leopard. Uraza padded toward the pond as if to drink.

  “No one drinks from this water! Neither human nor beast, be it Great or common!” said Pia. “It is sacred!”

  The leopard sniffed at the water and recoiled, looking back at Abeke, communicating that something was wrong.

  “Don’t worry, she doesn’t want to.” Abeke sat at the water’s edge with a hand on Uraza, in part to reassure Pia, but also to feel some of the clarity of thought that came with their bond. There were pieces of something here, a fractured story that could fit together like the gazelle-antler puzzles that Chinwe, her village’s Greencloak, used to carve. Abeke had always been good at those.

  Rain Dancer. Chinwe had declared Abeke the new Rain Dancer for the village, but her bond with a Great Beast had forced her to leave. Now she allowed herself to soak in that title, to feel community with the water before her, sense it as she would the presence of a friend standing near, her hand stroking Uraza’s neck. She was dimly aware of the conversation continuing without her, Tarik and Pia and Rollan speaking in turn. But Abeke pointed her thoughts instead to the water. To Pia. To the people of Samis. No children, no elders. Conor’s dream. The gate and wall. Old Henner.

  All the pieces of this puzzle were snapping together in Abeke’s mind. She knew this story. In Nilo the legend was of a tree whose fruit would keep you young forever, and two villages that destroyed each other and the tree itself while trying to possess it.

  A tense pause in the conversation seemed to vibrate the air around her, and she stood.

  “You know,” Abeke said, “it’s interesting that there are no children or elderly in your village, Pia. And there’s something different about this water that Suka used to drink. Uraza can smell it. And Conor’s dream about elderly people hurrying toward the pond? I’m thinking that you’re much older than you look, Pia. I’m thinking Old Henner might actually be old. You all are. And that has something to do with Suka’s pond.”

  Rollan looked at the water, taking a step back. “That’s unnatural.”

  “You can’t think —” Pia began.

  “Perhaps we should all drink from the pond,” said Tarik. “Just to check Abeke’s idea.”

  “Ooh, what do you think, Tini?” Maya asked her salamander, holding him in her palm. “Do you want to live forever and ever and ever and —”

  “No, wait.” Pia sighed, sitting on a rock beside the pond. She looked at each one of them in turn, directly in the eyes, as if checking for something. She sighed again. “Very well. Suka did come to this pond and drink, every year on New Year’s Day. The villagers have always avoided the place, believing the event was sacred. When I was young, my mother told me that as long as we kept the waters clear for Suka, we would be under her protection. But I was always curious. I wanted to see the Great Polar Bear for myself. So when I became mayor, I built my house near her pond, and I watched her, year after year.”

  Pia’s eyes became unfocused, as if watching a memory. “She was huge and terrifying, but you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. It was as if the moon itself had dipped down to drink from our waters. Suka didn’t seem to mind my company. I kept quiet, just watched her until she’d sated herself and ambled away. Nearly three decades passed that way — she and I and our little ritual.

  “Then, one year, she simply didn’t come. I went to the pond. I watched and waited, but Suka never arrived. It felt wrong, a breaking of a tradition. So early that morning, just before the sunrise, I crouched down and drank from the pond myself, to complete the new year.”

  Pia paused.

  “The waters changed you,” said Tarik.

  Pia nodded. “A stillness came over me. I seemed to feel the bones of my skeleton as if they burned, and the gentle heat worked through my muscles, my skin. I was a grandmother at that time, but I seemed to get younger. Ever since, these waters have kept us young. Some chose not to take the water and lived a normal life span. Others grew tired of their long lives and stopped drinking. They aged within a fe
w years and then died peacefully. Those who drink never have children, and all who remain in Samis today have drunk. We are the last of our clan.”

  “You think Suka drank from here for the same purpose?” asked Meilin.

  Pia shook her head. “The water here used to be pale brown like the river nearby, but the longer Suka stayed away, the more clear, crystal, nearly blue it became. I heard rumors years ago come down from Arctica that Suka had frozen herself and her talisman deep within the ice. I believe that with her powers in suspension, her tie to this pond is granting it life-giving magic. If you find Suka and wake her, the powers of the water might go away. Then all of Samis would dwindle and die.”

  “It’s a terrible risk,” said Tarik, “but the future will be even more terrible if the Devourer wins. We need to find her.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I know nothing that would help you.” She glanced uneasily at Rollan and then away. “You may stay the night and then you must go. We have no inn, so you’ll need to sleep in the stable. Visitors might discover the secret of the pond, as you have. If the secret gets out, people would come from all over. Wars would be raged over its waters.”

  “Of course,” said Tarik. “We swear to keep your secret.”

  Abeke mumbled affirmation. Conor and Meilin both intoned “I so swear” at exactly the same time, startling each other a little.

  “I can keep a secret,” Maya said.

  “What secret?” Rollan said.

  Pia raised an eyebrow, and then nodded. She didn’t seem consoled.

  Pia gave them dinner at her house — thinly sliced caribou meat on flatbread with onions and turnips. The meal was close enough to one Abeke had often shared with her family that she desperately wished for the burning tang of a bhut jolokia pepper or one of the dried grass spices of Nilo. She lowered her emotions like a blade, trying to cut off all longing. Just yearning for the food of home had cracked open her heart, reminding her of her father’s hands as he sanded sticks for arrows, of her sister’s voice singing as she cooked. She missed them more than peppers and spices, but a twinge in her heart reminded her that they probably didn’t miss her.

  She closed her eyes, sealing the cracks inside, refocusing on Abeke in Northern Eura, Abeke the Greencloak, Abeke who might never return home again.

  Uraza pressed her large head under Abeke’s hand, rubbing against her palm. Abeke lowered her plate, letting the leopard finish up the caribou meat.

  As they settled into the fresh grass strewn on the stable floor, Tarik spoke of traveling north tomorrow and trying their luck exploring Arctica on their own.

  “Conor, perhaps you could have a perfectly timed prophetic dream tonight telling us where to go?” said Abeke.

  “I’ll do my best,” said Conor. He smiled.

  “So we’re just rolling with the whole ‘Suka froze herself’ thing?” Rollan said. “I admit that Pia didn’t seem like she was lying about that, but you guys are all like, ‘Yeah, sure, that sounds about right.’ ”

  “It does sound about right,” Conor said, tossing a stick down the long, narrow barn for Briggan to fetch.

  “But it’s weird. Does no one else think that is weird?” Rollan looked around the group. “That a bear would freeze herself? How would you even do that?”

  “I know a dozen ways at least,” Meilin said. “Wise men and women in Zhong freeze themselves regularly.”

  “Wh-what?” Rollan sputtered.

  “It is much more comfortable to pass the sweltering summers encased in ice,” Meilin said.

  “Fah!” Rollan snorted, throwing up his arms.

  Meilin smiled slightly, though Abeke noticed that the smile quickly disappeared.

  “And here I thought you were able to tell when people were lying,” Conor muttered, smirking.

  “Whatever. In any case, Pia knows more about all this,” said Rollan. “I still think she could help us.”

  “But we can’t force her to,” said Tarik.

  “I could burn down her house or something,” said Maya through a yawn.

  Abeke sat up, staring.

  Maya laughed. “Kidding! Kidding!” She settled into the grass cuttings and muttered, “I mean, I could burn down her house. But I won’t. Tini and I don’t like hurting anybody, do we, Tini? No, we don’t, you adorable little sticky-footed genius.”

  Abeke woke in the morning to Uraza sneezing on bits of hay. She lay stretched out beside Abeke, her body longer than Abeke was tall. Abeke idly stroked her belly and heard Uraza purr. The earth tremor of her purr would be enough to wake up the others.

  Sudden noises came in through the window. Shouts. Anger. Sounds that didn’t belong in the perfect doll village of Samis.

  By the time Abeke was on her feet, the others were awake and rising. They hurried out to the village center.

  First she noticed a hole in the wall. Something had punched through the logs, leaving a gaping hole large enough for a person to climb through.

  And it appeared some persons had in fact climbed through.

  “Shane!” said Abeke.

  A group of five Conquerors stood before the hole, but Abeke’s eyes didn’t stray from Shane — blond, broad, his arms and face tanned from the Zhong sun. The sight of his smile awoke a thousand memories — their hours together training, laughing, whispering stories, standing at the ship’s bow with the spray on their lips, the wind against their faces, feeling as if the whole world could be theirs. Until Shane, Abeke had never known how it felt to be with someone who liked her, who respected her, who even wanted her around.

  Abeke could feel her companions around her bristling, hear them pull out weapons, but she walked over to Shane to shake his hand. He surprised her by meeting her halfway, his arms open. He gave her a warm hug.

  “I missed you, Abeke,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Abeke shut her eyes, feeling the sting of tears.

  “Back off!” Conor yelled. He pulled Abeke away and faced Shane, holding his crook, Briggan tense by his side. “Touch Abeke again and I’ll knock you flat on your stink-stained Conqueror behind!”

  Meilin was beside Conor, and she didn’t waste time with words. She came forward, hands in fists. A tall Zhongese man stepped smoothly in front of Shane, and when Meilin struck, the man defended. She delivered a series of blows that the man blocked with his arms, finally striking her with the palm of his hand. She stumbled back.

  Meilin released Jhi. The panda sat calmly behind her, investigating the grass, looking entirely unthreatening, but Meilin smiled, lifted her fists, and said to the man, “Let’s try that again.”

  “No, Meilin, Conor, stop,” said Abeke. She and Uraza put themselves in front of Shane.

  “We didn’t come to fight,” said Shane. “Please. We just want to talk.”

  “Breaking our wall is not talking behavior,” Old Henner called out.

  “I apologize for that,” said Shane. “My companions were overeager when you didn’t open the gate for us. I’ll fix it with my own hands, I swear.”

  “I’ll fix you with my own hands,” Meilin said through clenched teeth.

  Abeke and Uraza didn’t move.

  “So much has happened, so many deaths on both our sides,” said Shane, his voice warm, melting like butter over hot bread. “Before anyone else dies, let’s talk, please.”

  Abeke looked over Shane’s companions now. Besides the Zhongese man, the two impostors they’d last seen in Trunswick flanked him. The pale-haired Tahlia held her toad in both hands like an ugly ball she was ready to throw in some horrible game to which only she knew the rules. Ana was one step behind her, crouched next to her gila monster. She stroked it as one might pet a cat, but her dark eyes were locked on the Greencloaks, peering hatefully between two curtains of straight night-black hair.

  To Shane’s other side were two larg
er warrior-type men, one atop an ox, the other with a brown-eyed lynx weaving between his ankles. They looked vaguely familiar, as if Abeke had seen their faces among the ranks of the Conquerors before. But the Amayan woman beside them was a stranger. She had pale brown skin, dark eyes, and long, straight black hair. Her long travel dress was dark purple, embroidered with yellow and white along the sleeves and hem. On her shoulder sat a grave-looking raven. But what most caught Abeke’s eye was a striking sadness in the woman’s beautiful face.

  “So, talk,” said Tarik. “We’re listening.”

  “Tarik,” Meilin growled. Her knees were slightly bent, her hands in tight fists. “We know what they want and what they’ll do to get it. Let’s take them now.”

  “Meilin,” said Tarik. “Come here, please.”

  Meilin hesitated but complied. Abeke joined her group, and the six of them huddled to talk quietly, Uraza and Briggan standing like sentries between them and the Conquerors, teeth bared.

  Meilin and Conor glared at Abeke. She expected the same look of anger or mistrust from Rollan too, but he was strangely distracted, just staring over his shoulder at the Conquerors.

  “We can’t leave now,” said Tarik. “While we wander north in search of Suka, Shane and his crew might persuade or bully the information out of Pia and beat us to the talisman.”

  “So we fight,” said Meilin.

  “I’m not confident we could beat that crew,” said Tarik.

  “I could beat Shane,” said Conor. “I have no doubt. I dreamed about it.”

  “A prophetic dream?” Tarik asked.

  Conor fidgeted. “Figure of speech,” he said. “Not like a nighttime dream. Like a detailed mental exercise.”

  “You mean, you daydreamed it,” said Meilin. “You imagined punching his face in over and over again.”

  “Pretty much,” said Conor.

  “Yeah, I’ve had that daydream too,” Rollan muttered.

  “Shane means no harm, I swear,” said Abeke. “Look, he doesn’t have his wolverine out. He almost always keeps his spirit animal in passive state when he meets us. A true sign that he doesn’t want to fight.”