Raffin ushered Katsa and Po through the door in the back of the storage room, a torch in his hand. They slipped up the steps that led to the secret chamber.
"Has he said anything?" Katsa asked.
"Nothing," said Raffin, "other than that they blindfolded him when they took him. He's still very weak. He doesn't seem to remember much."
"Do you know who took him?" Po said. "Was Murgon responsible?"
"We don't think so," Katsa said, "but all we know for sure is that it wasn't Randa."
The stairs ended at a doorway. Raffin fiddled with a key.
"Randa doesn't know he's here," Po said. It was more of a statement than a question.
"Randa doesn't know," Katsa said. "He must never know."
Raffin opened the door then, and they crowded into the tiny room. Bann sat in a chair beside a narrow bed, reading in the dim light of a lamp on the table beside him. Prince Tealiff lay on his back in the bed, his eyes closed and his hands clasped over his chest.
Upon their entrance, Bann stood. He seemed unsurprised as Po rushed forward; he only stepped aside and offered his chair. Po sat and leaned toward his grandfather, looked into his sleeping face. Simply looked at him, and did not touch him. Then Po took the man's hands and bent his forehead to them, exhaling slowly.
Katsa felt as if she were intruding on something private. She dropped her eyes until Po sat up again.
"Your face is turning purple, Prince Greening," Raffin said. "You're on your way to a very black eye."
"Po," he said. "Call me Po."
"Po. I'll get you some ice from the vault. Come, Bann, let's get some supplies for our two warriors."
Raffin and Bann slipped through the doorway. And when Katsa and Po turned back to Tealiff, the old man's eyes were open.
"Grandfather," Po said.
"Po?" His voice rasped with the effort of speaking. "Po." He struggled to clear his throat and then lay still for a moment, exhausted. "Great seas, boy. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you."
"I've been tracking you down, Grandfather," Po said.
"Move that lamp closer, boy," Tealiff said. "What in the name of Lienid have you done to your face?"
"It's nothing, Grandfather. I've only been fighting."
"With what, a pack of wolves?"
"With the Lady Katsa," Po said. He cocked his head at Katsa, who stood at the foot of the bed. "Don't worry, Grandfather. It was only a friendly scuffle."
Tealiff snorted. "A friendly scuffle. You look worse than she does, Po."
Po burst into laughter. He laughed a lot, this Lienid prince. "I've met my match, Grandfather."
"More than your match," Tealiff said, "it looks to me. Come here, child," he said to Katsa. "Come to the light."
Katsa approached the other side of the bed and knelt beside him. Tealiff turned to her, and she became suddenly conscious of her dirty, bloody face, her tangled hair. How dreadful she must look to this old man.
"My dear," he said. "I believe you saved my life."
"Lord Prince," Katsa said, "if anyone did that, it was my cousin Raffin with his medicines."
"Yes, Raffin's a good boy," he said. He patted her hand. "But I know what you did, you and the others. You've saved my life, though I can't think why. I doubt any Lienid has ever done you a kindness."
"I'd never met a Lienid," Katsa said, "before you, Lord Prince. But you seem very kind."
Tealiff closed his eyes. He seemed to sink into his pillows. His breath was a drawn-out sigh.
"He falls asleep like that," Raffin said from the doorway. "His strength will come back, with rest." He carried something wrapped in a cloth, which he handed to Po. "Ice. Hold it to that eye. It looks like she's cracked your lip, too. Where else does it hurt?"
"Everywhere," Po said. "I feel as if I've been run over by a team of horses."
"Honestly, Katsa," Raffin said. "Were you trying to kill him?"
"If I'd been trying to kill him, he'd be dead," Katsa said, and Po laughed again. "He wouldn't be laughing," she added, "if it were that bad."
It wasn't that bad; or at least Raffin was able to determine that none of his bones were broken and that he'd sustained no bruises that wouldn't heal. Then Raffin turned to Katsa. He examined the scratch that stretched across her jaw, and wiped dirt and blood from her face.
"It's not very deep, this scratch," he said. "Any other pains?"
"None," she said. "I don't even feel the scratch."
"I suppose you'll have to retire this dress," he said. "Helda will give you a terrible scolding."
"Yes, I'm devastated about the dress."
Raffin smiled. He took hold of her arms and held her out from him so that he could look her up and down. He laughed.
"What can be so funny," Katsa said, "to a prince who's turned his hair blue?"
"You look like you've been in a fight," he said, "for the first time in your life."
KATSA HAD five rooms. Her sleeping room, decorated with dark draperies and wall hangings that Helda had chosen because Katsa had refused to form an opinion on the matter. Her bathing room, white marble, large and cold, functional. Her dining room, with windows looking onto the courtyard, and a small table where she ate, sometimes with Raffin or Helda, or with Giddon when he wasn't driving her to distraction. Her sitting room, full of soft chairs and pillows that Helda, again, had chosen. She didn't use the sitting room.
The fifth room used to be her workroom, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd embroidered or crocheted, or darned a stocking. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn a stocking, truth be told. She'd turned the room into a place for the storage of her weapons: swords, daggers, knives, bows, and staffs lined the walls. She'd fitted the room with a solid, square table, and now the Council meetings were held there.
Katsa bathed for the second time that day and knotted her wet hair behind her head. She fed her dress to the sleeping-room fire and watched its smoky demise with great satisfaction. A boy arrived who was to keep watch during the Council meeting. Katsa went into the weapons room and lit the torches that hung on the walls between her knives and bows.
Raffin and Po were the first to arrive. Po's hair was damp from his own bath. The skin had blackened around his eye, the gold eye, and made his gaze even more rakish and uneven than it had been before. He slouched against the table with his hands in his pockets. His eyes flashed around the room, taking in Katsa's collection of weapons. Po was wearing a new shirt, open at the neck and with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His forearms were as sun darkened as his face. She didn't know why she should notice. She found herself frowning.
"Sit, Your High Majestic Lord Princes," she said. She yanked a chair from the table and sat down herself.
"You're in fine temper," Raffin said.
"Your hair is blue," Katsa snapped back.
Oll strode into the room. At the sight of the scratch on Katsa's face, his mouth dropped open. He turned to Po and saw the black eye. He turned back to Katsa. He began to chuckle. He slapped his hand on the table, and the chuckle turned into a roar. "How I would love to have seen that fight, My Lady. Oh, how I would love to have seen it."
Po was smiling. "The lady won, which I doubt will surprise you."
Katsa glowered. "It was a draw. No one won."
"I say." It was Giddon's voice, and as he entered the room and looked from Katsa to Po, his eyes grew dark. He put his hand to his sword. He whirled on Po. "I don't see where you come off fighting the Lady Katsa."
"Giddon," said Katsa. "Don't be ridiculous."
Giddon turned to her. "He had no right to attack you."
"I struck the first blow, Giddon. Sit down."
"If you struck the first blow then he must have insulted you—"
Katsa jumped up from her seat. "That's enough, Giddon—if you think I need you to defend me—"
"A guest to this court, a total stranger—"
"Giddon—"
"Lord Giddon." Po had risen to his feet, and his vo
ice cut through hers. "If I've insulted your lady," he said, "you must forgive me. I rarely have the pleasure of practicing with someone of her caliber, and I couldn't resist the temptation. I can assure you she did more damage to me than I did to her."
Giddon didn't take his hand from his sword, but his grimace lessened.
"I'm sorry to have insulted you, as well," Po said. "I see now I should've taken greater care of her face. Forgive me. It was unpardonable." He reached his hand across the table.
Giddon's angry eyes grew warm again. He reached out and shook Po's hand. "You understand my concern," Giddon said.
"Of course."
Katsa looked from one of them to the other, the two of them shaking hands, understanding each other's concern. She didn't see where Giddon came off feeling insulted. She didn't see how Giddon had any place in it at all. Who were they, to take her fight away from her and turn it into some sort of understanding between themselves? He should've taken more care of her face? She would knock his nose from his face. She would thump them both, and she would apologize to neither.
Po caught her eyes then, and she did nothing to soften the silent fury she sent across the table to him. "Shall we sit?" someone said. Po held her eyes as they sat. There was no trace of humor in his expression, no trace of the arrogance of his exchange with Giddon. And then he mouthed two words. It was as clear as if he'd said them aloud. "Forgive me."
Well.
Giddon was still a horse's ass.
Sixteen Council members attended the meeting, in addition to Po and Lord Davit: Katsa, Raffin, Giddon, Oll, and Oll's wife, Bertol; two soldiers under Oll's command, two spies who worked with him, three underlords of Giddon's rank, and four servants—one a woman who worked in the kitchens of the castle, one a stable hand, one a washerwoman, and one a clerk in Randa's countinghouse. There were others in the castle involved with the Council. But most nights, these were their representatives, along with Bann, when he could get away.
Since the meeting had been called to hear Lord Davit's information, the Council wasted no time.
"I regret I can't tell you who kidnapped Prince Tealiff," Davit said. "You would, of course, prefer that type of information. But I may be able to tell you who didn't. My lands border Estill and Nander. My neighbors are the borderlords of King Thigpen and King Drowden. These borderlords have worked with the Council, and some of them are in the confidence of Thigpen's and Drowden's spies. Prince Raffin," Davit said, "these men are certain that neither King Thigpen nor King Drowden was involved in the kidnapping of the Lienid."
Raffin and Katsa caught each other's eyes.
"Then it must be King Birn of Wester," Raffin said.
And so it must, though Katsa couldn't imagine the motive.
"Tell us your sources," Oll said, "and your sources' sources. We'll look into it. If this turns out to be true information, we'll be that much closer to an explanation."
THE MEETING did not go on long. The seven kingdoms had been quiet, and Davit's news was enough to occupy Oll and the other spies for the time being.
"It would help us, Prince Greening," Raffin said, "if you'd allow us to keep your grandfather's rescue a secret for now. We can't guarantee his safety if we don't even know who attacked him."
"Of course," Po said. "I agree."
"But perhaps a cryptic message to your family," Raffin said, "to say that all's well with him..."
"Yes, I think I could fashion such a message."
"Excellent." Raffin clapped his hands on the table. "Anything else? Katsa?"
"I've nothing," Katsa said.
"Good." Raffin stood. "Until we hear some news, then, or until Grandfather Tealiff remembers more. Giddon, will you take Lord Davit back to his rooms? Oll, Horan, Waller, Bertol, will you come with me? I wish a moment. We'll take the inner passage, Katsa, if you don't mind a parade through your sleeping room."
"Go ahead," Katsa said. "It's better than a parade through the corridors."
"The prince," Raffin said. "Katsa, will you take the prince—"
"Yes. Go on."
Raffin turned away with Oll and the spies; the soldiers and the servants said their good-byes, and departed.
"I trust you've recovered from your illness at dinner, Katsa," Giddon said, "if you've been starting fights. Indeed, it sounds as if you're back to your normal self."
She would be civil to him in front of Po and Lord Davit, though he laughed now in her face. "Yes, thank you, Giddon. Good night to you."
Giddon nodded and left with Lord Davit. Po and Katsa were alone. Po leaned back against the table. "Am I not trusted to find my way through the halls by myself?"
"He meant for me to take you through an inner passageway," Katsa said. "If you're seen wandering around the hallways of Randa's court at this hour, people will talk. This court will turn the most mundane thing into something to talk about."
"Yes," he said. "I believe that's the case with most courts."
"Do you plan to stay long at the court?"
"I should like to stay until my grandfather's feeling better."
"Then we'll have to come up with an excuse for your presence," Katsa said. "For isn't it generally known that you seek your grandfather?"
Po nodded. "If you agreed to train with me," he said, "that might serve as an excuse."
She began to put out the torches. "What do you mean?"
"People would understand," he said, "if I stayed in order to train with you. They must see that in our view, it's a valuable opportunity. For both of us."
She paused before the last torch and considered his proposal. She understood him completely. She was tired of fighting nine or ten men at once, fully armored men, none of them able to touch her, and she always tempering her blows. It would be a thrill, a pure thrill, to fight Po again. To fight him regularly, a dream.
"Wouldn't it seem as if you'd given up the search for your grandfather?"
"I've already been to Wester," he said, "and Sunder. I can travel to Nander and Estill under the guise of seeking information, can't I, using this city as my base? No city's more central than Randa's."
He could do that, and no one would have reason to question it. She put out the last torch and walked back to him. Half of his face was lit by the light in the hall outside the door. It was his gold eye, his blackened eye, that was illuminated. She looked up at him and set her chin.
"I'll train with you," she said. "But don't expect me to take more care of your face than I did today."
He burst into laughter, but then his eyes sobered, and he looked at the floor. "Forgive me for that, Katsa. I wished to make an ally of Lord Giddon, not an enemy. It seemed the only way."
Katsa shook her head with impatience. "Giddon is a fool."
"He reacted naturally enough," he said, "considering his position."
He brought his fingertips to her chin suddenly. She froze, forgetting the question she'd been about to ask, regarding Giddon, and what in the Middluns his position should be. He tilted her face to the light.
"It was my ring."
She didn't understand him.
"It was my ring that scratched you."
"Your ring."
"Well, one of my rings."
It was one of his rings that scratched her, and now his fingertips touched her face. His hand dropped, returning to his side, and he looked at her calmly, as if this were normal, as if friends she'd only just made always touched her face with their fingertips. As if she ever made friends. As if she had any basis for comparison, to decide what was normal when one made friends, and what was not.
She was not normal.
She marched to the doorway and grabbed the torch from the wall. "Come," she said. For it was time to get him out of here, this strange person, this cat-eyed person who seemed created to rattle her. She would knock those eyes out of his face the next time they fought. She would knock the hoops from his ears and the rings from his hands.
It was time to get him out of here, so that she could return to
her rooms and return to herself.
Chapter Ten
HE WAS a marvelous opponent. She couldn't get to him. She couldn't hit him where she meant to, or as hard as she wanted. He was so quick to block or to twist, so quick to react. She couldn't knock him from his feet, she couldn't trap him when their fight had devolved into a wrestling match on the floor.
He was so much stronger than she, and for the first time in her life, she found her lesser strength to be a disadvantage. No one had ever gotten close enough to her for it to matter, before this.
He was so finely tuned to his surroundings, and to her movements; and that was also part of the challenge. He always seemed to know what she was doing, even when she was behind him.
"I'll grant you don't have night vision if you'll grant you have eyes in the back of your head," she said once, when she'd entered the practice room and he'd greeted her without looking round to identify her.
"What do you mean?"
"You always know what's happening behind you."
"Katsa, do you never notice the noise you make when you burst into a room? No one flings doors open the way you do."
"Perhaps your Grace gives you a heightened sense of things," she said.
He shook his head. "Perhaps, but no more than your own."
He still got the worst of their fights, because of her flexibility and her tireless energy, and mostly because of her speed. She might not hit him how she wanted, but she still hit him. And he suffered pain more. He stopped the fight once while she grappled to pin his arm and his legs and his back to the ground and he hit her repeatedly in the ribs with his one free hand.
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