Graceling Page 8

  "Doesn't that hurt?" he said, gasping with laughter. "Don't you feel it? I've hit you possibly twelve times, and you don't even flinch."

  She sat up on her heels and felt the spot, below her breast. "It hurts, but it's not bad."

  "Your bones are made of rock. You walk away from these fights without a sore spot, while I limp away and spend the day icing my bruises."

  He didn't wear his rings while they fought. He'd come without them the first day. When she'd protested that it was an unnecessary precaution, his face had assumed a mask of innocence.

  "I promised Giddon, didn't I?" he'd said, and that fight had begun with Po ducking, and laughing, as Katsa swung at his face.

  They didn't wear their boots, either, not after Katsa accidentally clipped him on the forehead. He had dropped to his hands and knees, and she saw at once what had happened. "Call Raff!" she'd cried to Oll, who watched on the side. She'd sat Po on the floor, ripped off her own sleeve, and tried to stop the flow of blood that ran into his dazed eyes. When Raffin had given him the go-ahead to fight a few days later, she'd insisted they fight barefoot. And in truth, she had taken more care of his face since then.

  They almost always practiced in front of an audience. A scattering of soldiers, or underlords. Oll, whenever he could, for the fights gave him so much pleasure. Giddon, though he always seemed to grow grumpy as he watched and never stayed long. Even Helda came on occasion, the only woman who did, and sat with wide eyes that grew wider the longer she sat.

  Randa did not come, which was pleasant. Katsa was glad of his tendency to keep her at arm's length.

  They ate together most days, after practicing. In her dining room, alone, or in Raffin's workrooms with Raffin and Bann. Sometimes at a table Raffin had brought into Tealiff's room. The grandfather was still very ill, but company seemed to cheer and strengthen him.

  When they sat together talking, sometimes the silver and gold of Po's eyes caught her off guard. She could not become used to his eyes; they muddled her. But she met them when he looked at her, and she forced herself to breathe and talk and not become overwhelmed. They were eyes, they were only his eyes, and she wasn't a coward. And besides, she didn't want to behave toward him as the entire court behaved toward her, avoiding her eyes, awkwardly, coldly. She didn't want to do that to a friend.

  He was a friend; and in the final few weeks of summer, for the first time in her life, Randa's court became a place of contentment for Katsa. A place of good hard work and of friends. Oll's spies moved steadily, learning what they could from their travels to Nander and Estill. The kingdoms, amazingly, were at peace. The heat and the closeness of the air seemed to bring a lull to Randa's cruelty as well, or perhaps he was merely distracted by the flood of foods and wares that always washed into the city from every trade route at that time of year. Whatever the reason, Randa did not summon Katsa to perform any of his nasty errands. Katsa found herself daring to relax into summer's end.

  She never ran out of questions for Po.

  "Where'd you get your name?" she asked him one day as they sat in the grandfather's room, talking quietly so as not to wake him.

  Po wound a cloth wrapped with ice around his shoulder. "Which one? I've got lots to choose from."

  Katsa reached across the table to help him tie the cloth tight. "Po. Does everyone call you that?"

  "My brothers gave me that name when I was little. It's a kind of tree in Lienid, the po tree. In autumn its leaves turn silver and gold. Inevitable nickname, I guess."

  Katsa broke a piece of bread. She wondered if the name had been given fondly, or if it had been an attempt by Po's brothers to isolate him—to remind him always that he was a Graceling. She watched him pile his plate high with bread, meat, fruit, and cheese and smiled as the food began to disappear almost as fast as he'd piled it up. Katsa could eat a lot, but Po was something else altogether.

  "What is it like to have six older brothers?"

  "I don't think it was for me what it would be for most others," he said. "Hand fighting is revered in Lienid. My brothers are great fighters, and of course I was able to hold my own with them, even though I was small—and eventually surpass them, every one of them. They treated me like an equal, like more than an equal."

  "And were they also your friends?"

  "Oh yes, especially the younger ones."

  Perhaps it was easier, then, to be a Graceling fighter if one was a boy or in a kingdom that revered hand fighting; or perhaps Po's Grace had announced itself less drastically than Katsa's had. Perhaps if Katsa had six older brothers, she would also have six friends.

  Or maybe everything was different in Lienid.

  "I've heard the Lienid castles are built on mountain peaks so high that people have to be lifted up to them by ropes," she said.

  Po grinned. "Only my father's city has the ropes." He poured himself more water and turned back to the food on his plate.

  "Well?" Katsa said. "Are you going to explain them to me?"

  "Katsa. Is it too much for you to understand that a man might be hungry after you've beaten him half to death? I'm beginning to think it's part of your fighting strategy, keeping me from eating. You want me weak and faint."

  "For someone who's Lienid's finest fighter," she said, "you have a delicate constitution."

  He laughed and put his fork down. "All right, all right. How can I describe this?" He picked his fork up again and used it to draw a picture in the air as he spoke. "My father's city sits at the top of this enormous, tall rock, tall as a mountain, that rises straight up from the plains below. There are three ways up to the city. One is a road built into the sides of the rock, that winds around and around it, slowly. The second is a stairway built into one side of the rock. It bends back and forth on itself until it reaches the top. It's a good approach, if you're strong and wide awake and don't have a horse, though most who choose that route eventually tire and end up begging a ride from someone on the road. My brothers and I race it sometimes."

  "Who wins?"

  "Where's your confidence in me, that you need to ask that question? You would beat us all, of course."

  "My ability to fight has no bearing on my ability to run up a flight of stairs."

  "Nonetheless, I can't imagine you allowing anyone to beat you at anything."

  Katsa snorted. "And the third way?"

  "The third way is the ropes."

  "But how do they work?"

  Po scratched his head. "Well, it's fairly simple, really. They hang from a great wheel that sits flat, on its side, at the top of the rock. They dangle down over the edge of the rock, and at the bottom they're attached to platforms. Horses turn the wheel, the wheel pulls the ropes, and the platforms rise."

  "It seems a terrible amount of trouble."

  "Mostly everyone uses the road. The ropes are only for great shipments of things."

  "And the whole city sits up in the sky?"

  Po broke himself another piece of bread and nodded.

  "But why would they build a city in such a place?"

  Po shrugged. "I suppose because it's beautiful."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, you can see forever from the edges of the city. The fields, the mountains and hills. To one side, the sea."

  "The sea," Katsa said.

  The sea put an end to her questions for a moment. Katsa had seen the lakes of Nander, some of them so wide she could barely make out the opposite shore. But she'd never seen the sea. She couldn't imagine that much water. Nor could she imagine water that rocked, and crashed against the land, as she'd heard the sea did. She stared absently at the walls of Tealiff's small room, and tried to think of it.

  "You can see two of my brothers' castles from the city," Po said. "In the foothills of the mountains. The other castles are beyond the mountains, or too far to see."

  "How many castles are there?"

  "Seven," Po said, "just as there are seven sons."

  "Then one is yours."

  "The smallest one."


  "Do you mind that yours is the smallest?"

  Po chose an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table. "I'm glad mine is the smallest, though my brothers don't believe me when I say so."

  She didn't blame them for disbelieving. She'd never heard of a man, not even her cousin, who didn't want as large a holding as he could have. Giddon was always comparing his estate to that of his neighbors; and when Raffin listed his complaints about Thigpen, he never neglected to mention a certain disagreement over the precise location of the Middluns' eastern border. She'd thought all men were like that. She'd thought she wasn't like that because she wasn't a man.

  "I don't have the ambitions of my brothers," Po said. "I've never wanted a large holding. I've never wanted to be a king or an overlord."

  "No," Katsa said, "nor have I. I've thanked the hills countless times that Raffin was born the son of Randa, and I only his niece, and his sister's daughter at that."

  "My brothers want all that power," he said. "They love to get wrapped up in the disputes of my father's court. They actually revel in it. They love managing their own castles and their own cities. I do believe sometimes that they all wish to be king."

  He leaned back in his chair and absently ran his fingers along his sore shoulder.

  "My castle doesn't have a city," he said. "It's not far from a town, but the town governs itself. It doesn't have a court, either. Really it's just a great house that'll be my home for the times when I'm not traveling."

  Katsa took an apple for herself. "You intend to travel."

  "I'm more restless than my brothers. But it's so beautiful, my castle; it's the most wonderful place to go home to. It sits on a cliff above the sea. There are steps down to the water, cut into the cliff. And balconies hanging over the cliff—you feel as if you'll fall if you lean too far. At night the sun goes down across the water, and the whole sky turns red and orange, and the sea to match it. Sometimes there are great fish out there, fish of impossible colors. They come to the surface and roll about—you can watch them from the balconies. And in winter the waves are high, and the wind'll knock you down. You can't go out to the balconies in winter. It's dangerous, and wild.

  "Grandfather," he said suddenly. He jumped up and turned to the bed. Informed that his grandfather had awoken, Katsa thought wryly, by the eyes in the back of his head.

  "You speak of your castle, boy," the old man said.

  "Grandfather, how are you feeling?"

  Katsa ate her apple and listened to them talk. Her head was full of the things Po had said. She hadn't known there were sights in the world so beautiful a person would want to spend an age staring at them.

  Po turned to her then, and a torch on the wall caught the gleam of his eyes. She focused on breathing. "I have a weakness for beautiful sights," he said. "My brothers tease me."

  "Your brothers are the foolish ones," Tealiff said, "for not seeing the strength in beautiful things. Come here, child," he said to Katsa. "Let me see your eyes, for they make me stronger."

  And his kindness brought a smile to her face, though his words were nonsense. She went to sit beside Grandfather Tealiff, and he and Po told her more about Po's castle and Po's brothers and Ror's city in the sky.

  Chapter Eleven

  "HOW FAR IS Giddon's estate from Randa City?" Po asked her late one morning. They sat on the floor of their practice room, drinking water and resting. It had been a good session. Po had returned the day before from a visit to Nander, and Katsa thought the time apart had been good for them. They came together again with a new sharpness.

  "It's near," Katsa said. "In the west. A day's journey, perhaps."

  "Have you seen it?"

  "Yes. It's large and very grand. He doesn't get home often, but he still manages to keep it well."

  "I'm sure he does."

  Giddon had come to their practice today. He'd been the only visitor, and he hadn't stayed long. She didn't know why he came, when it always seemed to put him in a bad humor.

  Katsa lay on her back and looked up at the high ceiling. The light poured into the room from the great, east-facing windows. The days were beginning to shorten. The air would crispen soon, and the castle would smell of wood burning in the fireplaces. The leaves would crackle under her horse's hooves when she went riding.

  It had been such a quiet couple of weeks. She would like a Council task—she'd like to get out of the city and stretch her legs. She wondered if Oll had any news about Grandfather Tealiff yet. Maybe she could go to Wester herself and poke around for information.

  "How will you answer Giddon when he asks you to marry him?" Po asked. "Will you accept?"

  Katsa sat up, and stared at him. "That's an absurd question."

  "Absurd—why?" His face was clear of its usual smiles. She didn't think he was teasing her.

  "Why in the Middluns would Giddon ask me to marry him?"

  His eyes narrowed. "Katsa. You're not serious."

  She looked at him blankly, and now he did begin to smile.

  "Katsa, don't you know Giddon's in love with you?"

  Katsa snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Giddon lives to criticize me."

  Po shook his head, and his laugh began to rumble from his chest. "Katsa, how can you be so blind? He's completely smitten. Don't you see how jealous he is? Don't you remember how he reacted when I scratched your face?"

  An unpleasant feeling began to gather in her stomach. "I don't see what that has to do with it. And besides, how would you know? I don't believe Lord Giddon confides in you."

  He laughed. "No," he said. "No, he certainly doesn't. Giddon trusts me about as much as he trusts Murgon. I imagine he thinks any man who fights you as I do is no better than an opportunist and no worse than a thug."

  "You're deceived," Katsa said. "Giddon feels nothing for me."

  "I can't make you see it, Katsa, if you're determined not to see it." Po stretched onto his back and yawned. "All the same, I might think up a response if I were you. Just in case he were to propose." He laughed again. "I'll have to ice my shoulder, as usual. I'd say you won again today, Katsa."

  She jumped to her feet. "Are we done here?"

  "I suppose so. Are you hungry?"

  She waved him off and marched to the door. She left him lying on his back in the light of the windows and ran to find Raffin.

  KATSA BURST into Raffin's workrooms. Raffin and Bann sat at a table, huddled together over a book.

  "Are you alone?" Katsa asked.

  They looked up, surprised. "Yes—"

  "Is Giddon in love with me?"

  Raffin blinked, and Bann's eyes widened.

  "He's never spoken to me about it," Raffin said. "But yes, I think anyone who knows him would say he's in love with you."

  Katsa slapped her hand to her forehead. "Of all the fool—how can he—" She paced to the table. She turned and paced back to the door.

  "Has he said something to you?" Raffin asked.

  "No. Po told me." She spun toward Raffin. "And why did you never tell me?"

  "Kat." He sat back from his book. "I thought you knew. I don't see how you could not. He makes himself your escort every time the king's business takes you away from the city. He always sits beside you at dinner."

  "Randa decides where we sit at dinner."

  "Well, and Randa probably knows Giddon hopes to marry you," Raffin said.

  Katsa paced to the table again, clutching her hair. "Oh, this is dreadful. Whatever shall I do?"

  "If he asks you to marry him, you'll say no. You'll tell him it's nothing to do with him. You'll tell him you're determined not to marry, that you don't wish children; whatever you need to say so he understands it's nothing to do with him."

  "I wouldn't marry Giddon to save my life," Katsa said. "Not even to save yours."

  "Well." Raffin's eyes were full of laughter. "I'd leave that part out."

  Katsa sighed and walked again to the door.

  "You're not the most perceptive person I've ever known, Kat," Raffi
n said, "if you don't mind my saying so. Your capacity for missing the obvious is astonishing."

  She threw her arms into the air. She turned to go. She turned back to him suddenly, at a shocking thought. "You're not in love with me, are you?"

  He stared at her for a moment, speechless. Then he burst into laughter. Bann laughed, too, though he tried valiantly to hide it behind his hand. Katsa was too relieved to be offended.

  "All right, all right," she said, "I suppose I deserve that."

  "My dear Katsa," Raffin said, "Giddon is so very handsome, are you sure you won't reconsider?"

  Raffin and Bann clutched their stomachs and guffawed. Katsa waved their nonsense away. They were hopeless. She turned to go.

  "Council meeting tonight," Raffin said to her back.

  She raised her hand to show she'd heard. She closed the door on their laughter.

  "THERE'S VERY LITTLE happening in the seven kingdoms," Oll said. "We've called this meeting only because we have some information about Prince Tealiff we can't make any sense of. We're hoping you'll have some ideas."

  Bann had joined them for this meeting, because the grandfather was well enough now to be left alone on occasion. Katsa had taken advantage of Bann's broad chest and shoulders, and seated him between herself and Giddon. Giddon could not possibly see her; but just in case, she'd positioned Raffin between them as well. Oll and Po were across from her. Po sat back in his chair, his eyes glimmering in the corner of her vision no matter which way she looked.

  "Lord Davit gave us true information," Oll said. "Neither Nander nor Estill knows anything of the kidnapping. Neither was involved. But now we're almost certain that King Birn of Wester is also innocent."

  "Could it be Murgon, then?" Giddon asked.

  "But with what motive?" Katsa asked.

  "He has no motive," Raffin said. "But then, he has no less motive than anyone else. It's what we keep coming up against. There is no motive for anyone to have done this. Even Po—Prince Greening—has been able to come up with none."

  Po nodded. "My grandfather's only importance is to his family."