note: Woww, I'm so glad to finally be posting more Epic! I haven't had ANY time to write in the past three weeks, which was pretty depressing, especially after going for six weeks with writing 1,000 words a day! But now I'm finally getting my life back, so I can get this thing finished. There are only four more chapters left... yikes!

twenty-four: ice

Swifty didn't waste any time. I felt like I had just barely closed my eyes when I was pulled from bed and dragged down those steep stairs. It was light outside, but only just. The ever present cloud cover was bright gray that made my eyes sting when I looked at it out the window. Still, anything was better than rain.

Dutchy and I were marched, still half asleep, out the door and down the block. No breakfast. No coffee. I didn't have enough energy to complain, and Dutchy, who was stumbling in his drowsiness, either didn't notice or didn't feel comfortable talking to Swifty after what I'd told him the night before. There was nothing I could do about that. It wasn't like Swifty came off as the villain in that story, anyway. But Dutch didn't seem to regard me any differently. I was grateful for that. Maybe he could teach our Asian friend a lesson in that sense.

We didn't talk, which wasn't a surprise to me. I was still feeling a little nauseous from our adventure the day before and my feet dragged with exhaustion. I was trying as hard as I could not to let my eyelids fall, but they were so heavy. Dutchy was in his own world, staring at his boots as he walked, and taking his glasses off every block or so to rub slowly at his eyes.

Swifty walked ahead of us, setting a fast pace that I had little hope of keeping up with. He looked… the same as he had lately. If I thought I was tired, then he was the walking dead. I didn't know where his energy came from. He hadn't slept for several nights and as far as I knew was living off a diet of oatmeal and rum. He hadn't said a word to us that morning. He walked; we followed.

In his way, I figured he thought that everything that had happened to Sofia was our fault. Indirectly, I guess he was right. But we were still here, and he was still helping, and we were just as driven to find her as he. The only difference was that we weren't crazy.

Like Spot's Brooklyn, the section of the city controlled by the Iceman was well marked. There weren't signs, or gates, but everyone knew. It wasn't necessarily a place to be avoided, but you did have to be careful. Iceman and his workers knew every body that passed through those streets. If they didn't like what they saw, you were out, hopefully with just a warning. I knew that we would not be alone in his territory for long. We would be recognized and probably questioned. Unless Swifty was involved with something I didn't know about (which was possible), we had a clean case before us. The only question was if Iceman would see us. If he wouldn't, well, then we would have a little more of a challenge.

Swifty's mouth was set in a determined line. Suddenly I could see exactly how things would go. We would stride across the border with a purpose, eyes scanning for someone to take us in. There would be no false pretenses, no feigned innocence or ignorance. We were here for a reason, and, truly, we had no time to waste. And maybe, just maybe, that confidence could get us in the same room as Iceman.

And then what? I was so preoccupied with worrying about seeing him at all that I realized that I had no idea what we would say to convince him to give Sofia back to us. As we hurried across a busy intersection near the border, I resigned myself to assuming that Swifty had thought of something – what else would he have been doing during those long nights, anyway?

Swifty didn't hesitate before crossing the final street, but he did pause long enough to turn and jab his finger into Dutchy's chest, saying, "Keep quiet." I expected the same warning, and was ready to retort with a hearty "fuck you," but instead he ignored me and went forward. Dutchy and I exchanged a mutually exasperated glance and hurried after him.

The difference between Iceman and Brooklyn was this: Brooklyn basically oversaw, well, his whole borough, and if you decided to live there, you were under his control. Loosely. He wasn't peeking in your windows and he probably didn't even know who you were, but if he wanted something from you, you better damn well pony up and help out. Iceman controlled a much smaller area, but the place was in his complete control. The streets weren't deserted and the buildings weren't empty, but the only people that lived there were the ones that worked for Iceman – and their families, if they had any. So, while strangers were allowed to pass through on business or as a shortcut, they didn't go unnoticed, because they just didn't belong.

We did not belong. Eyes followed us as we walked, in fact we barely made it a block before someone stepped out in front of us, arms crossed in front of their chest and a mean look in their eye. I didn't recognize the guy, but Swifty did.

"And what do you want?" he drawled, taking his time to study us up and down.

"We want to see him," Swifty growled, stepping forward to suggest that he wouldn't take no for an answer. The other man, however, stood his ground, seemingly unimpressed.

"Well then. How 'bout maybe you say please?"

"How 'bout you go fuck yourself."

I couldn't help it, I sighed aloud. That was really, really not going to help us at all. The stranger didn't think so, either. His eyes narrowed and he got even closer to Swifty.

"Listen hard, Li, you can the attitude and tell me what you want with the Iceman or you turn and walk back the way you came before I change my mind and use a better idea."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see a few figures creeping closer, either curious or wanting in on the action. I shifted my feet and cleared my throat quietly, but, as usual, I was ignored.

"My business ain't with you, Macalester," Swifty spat. His hands were hanging at his side, and I noticed for the first time that one of them was trembling. I frowned. I doubted that it was because he was nervous. "Get us in so I don't have to waste my energy making you regret it."

Tough talk, but the thing was, Swifty was clearly on edge and even I wasn't sure when he would snap. And the man – Macalester – finally saw that. He stopped glaring long enough to actually look in Swifty's eyes, and to see his hair and clothes, and maybe even his shaking hands. He dropped back a step – slowly, causally – and switched his gaze to me.

"Don't waste his time," he said scornfully, then unlocked a door in the building to our left with a wary glance at Swifty and all but pushed us inside. The door slammed shut behind us and we were left with just a wide staircase. It was covered in some sort of Oriental runner, which was impressive, but not worth commenting on in the present circumstances.

"Do you often get away with shit because you're insane?" I asked instead, expecting to be ignored. I was not disappointed. Dutchy, for his part, remained quiet and cool at the back of our little group. I was in a bad mood, but at least I was ready to argue.

I guess Swifty knew were he was going, because he stormed past an almost quaint little reception room and just about busted down a tall, dark door. It withstood his first attack, but not his second, and so we filed in despite frantic protests from the girl outside.

This was it.

The room was… rich, to say the least. My feet actually sank into a huge Persian rug that almost covered the entire shiny, hardwood floor from the open door to Iceman's desk, where he sat, completely unimpressed. He didn't even look up when we barged in. Dutchy closed the door gently behind us.

Iceman's desk was very large and covered with an array of papers. Because he was taking his time in recognizing us, I took a moment to look around the room more. There were no windows – too risky – but still plenty of light was to be had, most of it from expensive looking lamps and one hanging chandelier. Large, detailed paintings covered the walls, and, about ten yards behind his desk, two floor to ceiling bookcases stood packed with thick volumes. Separating them was a polished grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging silently.

Now that I had finished my study, I felt more than a little awkward. Swifty was staring intently at the top of Iceman's head, which was bent over as he wrote something. Remarkably, Dutchy was still playing the part of a ghost pretty well. Iceman signed his paper with a flourish and finally graced us with his attention.

The first thing I noticed were his eyes. They were a striking green, almost as sharp as Spot's. His hair was dark and close cut, he had a full beard, but this, too, was cropped. He made a steeple of his fingers in front of his face and looked at us expectantly.

"Swifty," he said, and his voice was as clipped as his hair, "I really do not have the time for this."

"No?" Swifty challenged, stepping forward. Here we go, I thought. "You don't have the time for me, but you have the time for her, right?"

"Now, just what are you talking about?"

Swifty didn't bother to answer that, instead he crossed the remaining distance between himself and the desk in a few long strides and I'm pretty sure was about to vault right over when someone came from the side of the room and intercepted him. I blinked a few times – I hadn't even known anyone else was with us. I guess that was the point, but it still unnerved me. Quickly, I did a spin, trying to see who else was hiding. Again, I didn't notice anyone, but I was pretty sure this guy wasn't alone. Our new guest remained, and I was almost amused (almost) to see that it was Snoddy. He didn't even glance at Dutchy or I, and luckily Dutchy didn't betray himself. Snoddy just looked plainly at Swifty, who glared daggers back. Neither said a word.

Iceman stood and nodded to Snoddy. "Michael," he said as a dismissal, and Snoddy turned from Swifty, squared his shoulders, and backed a few steps away. He remained in sight, though – a reminder. I realized then, maybe for the first time, that Snoddy was a pretty big guy. Tall, at least… and taller than Swifty, who was still staring at him.

Swifty broke his gaze a moment later and focused back on Iceman. Iceman was watching Dutchy, who was looking at the floor.

"This isn't a game," Swifty hissed.

Iceman sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes moving to me, and then to Swifty. He folded his hands in his lap.

"She's fine, you know," he said finally. Swifty didn't flinch. Then I saw one of his hands clench into a fist. Snoddy also took note, and sent him a warning glance. Swifty ran his other hand through his hair and then let it hang from his neck. Yeah, the kid was losing it. "I understand you want her back," Iceman continued, "but I really just can't give her up. You see, Sofia… Sofia is like a lever. She fits perfectly into this… this space. She can pry up some things that I just can't. Not alone, at least."

I frowned. I wasn't following.

"This is not a game," Swifty said again, with effort. "Do not play games with us."

"Let me paint you a picture," Iceman interrupted, regarding us coolly. "We will play a game, we'll play connect the dots. Sofia means something to Conlon; a big something. Brooklyn is still too paranoid about Conlon to leave his stronghold. Brooklyn is a pain in my ass.

"Sofia means a lot to Brooklyn. Of course, he thinks she's dead. He tried to kill her to get a hand up on Conlon. He failed. Now I have her, which gives me the advantage on the sorry bastard." He paused a second, and added, "and Conlon, too, I suppose." He shrugged nonchalantly. "So, you see, I really cannot part with her. She's safe. She'll be well taken care of."

Swifty seethed. My frowned deepened. It made sense, but there was something missing. There was a big hole in his story, and the strange thing was, he didn't seem to be aware of it.

I opened my mouth to speak for the first time, but Swifty cut in before I could draw a breath.

"Who is she – who am I – to trust you? We don't know she'll be safe. She's safe with us…" Iceman raised an eyebrow. His cronies had stolen her away, after all. "…and we want her back. We didn't come here to bargain."

But I had. Iceman's gaze flickered over to me and stayed, I think he saw something in my eyes. Swifty had apparently forgotten that Dutchy and I were there, because he half turned in surprise.

"You mean that this has nothing to do with Fever?" I asked. Iceman slowly straightened, actually not bothering to hide his curiousity.

"What?" he asked. "What about Fever?"

Swifty was sending me looks that clearly said 'cease and desist,' but I didn't pay any attention. "This whole thing," I continued, "Brooklyn trying to kill Sofia, everything – it's not just because of Conlon. Sofia was going to help us. We were going to her to help us with a Cure, because… one of our friends was cursed. Brooklyn burned down her shop because he didn't want her to help us."

Iceman tapped a finger on his chin. "Who would Brooklyn care about so much? I don't understand it."

"I don't…" I hesitated. Iceman was being rarely candid right now, but I wasn't sure how far I could push it. "I don't understand how you didn't know about this," I said. "I mean… we thought it was something small at first, and that I would get. But it's not. There's something bigger at work, something that has to explain why he would go to so much effort to take down one street rat kid.

"I mean, I just thought that most of the warlords shared information. You know, to a point."

Iceman was clearly troubled, and now I was really interested. Why hadn't Brooklyn told him – or maybe anyone else – about the situation? If he'd wanted something minor taken care of, something he apparently wasn't able to do on his own… that's exactly where enlisting the other leaders came in.

"Fever," Iceman said, with just a hint of disbelief in his careful voice. I decided to take advantage of catching him off guard. I took a step forward so that I was in line with Swifty.

"Brooklyn wanted Sofia gone because somehow he knew that she was going to help us. She still needs to help us. The boy isn't dead yet, but it's only a matter of days… hell, hours, maybe. He needs us, and we need Sofia. We are so, so close. I have to ask you – please. I understand that having her puts you in a fine place, but over the past few days I've just begun to realize that this thing… this whole thing… I think it has bigger consequences than just the life of one newsie. Brooklyn's up to something. He's gotta be, or else he wouldn't have gone to all this trouble to silence one voice, and he wouldn't have kept quiet about his suspicions, his problems..." I bit my tongue. My voice had begun to creep into desperation, but it was only echoing the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Iceman looked up at me, nodding slowly. "What does she have to do?" he asked finally, and his voice was tired.

"She just has to mix the antidote," I said, trying not to let the relief show in my voice. "We have all the ingredients, everything. It's all safe at Swifty's house. She just has to put it together, then we go back to the Other side and in theory… everything is fine."

He nodded again. "I think you're right," he said. "Christ, I hate to admit it, but I do think you're right. I will allow you to take her home so you can finish this… mess. I trust you'll keep her out of trouble this time?" he asked, glancing sharply at Swifty. Swifty glared back. "Use one of my gates to get to the Other side," he said, again addressing me. "That way, you won't be followed. I'll send word to the guards. Where does Swifty live?"

Another glare from his direction. I told Iceman anyway.

"You know the bridge between Elcano and Free?" he asked after thinking for a moment.

"Yes."

"You know the door, then?"

"Yes," I said, nodding slightly. I'd walked over the bridge a number of times but I'd never used the gateway before. Iceman had controlled it for a long time.

"Good." He sighed quietly, then stood and gave a short nod of his head. "Michael," he said, "please escort them out. Good day." He nodded once more and then sat back down and reached for a new paper, and so we left the room with it looking identical as when we'd first entered.

Snoddy brought us through the building and down the stairs, not saying a word or meeting anyone's eyes. He was holding tightly onto Swifty's elbow, as if he would try something. Once we got to the street, Swifty yanked his arm away, making sure to shoulder Snoddy a little as he did so. Snoddy just ignored him and disappeared back inside. A moment later, a stranger emerged from a different door with Sofia in tow.

"I'll follow you home," he said in a tone that told us it was no use arguing. Sofia glared at him and strode up next to me. I was so glad to see her that I actually smiled a little, and she smiled cautiously back.

Swifty ignored her, so, after frowning at the back of his head for a few seconds, she returned the favor. She reached for Dutchy's hand and gave it a little squeeze, and he smiled weakly in return. But his eyes and his attention were focused on Swifty. I knew he was thinking about what I'd told him the night before, and I didn't blame him. Sofia started to watch him, too, and I knew she was thinking about how he had suddenly seemed to come undone, and I didn't blame her.

So I started to think about Swifty, but it was a dead end. I couldn't figure him out. I didn't know him anymore.