by Graceling
Katsa glanced up to see the slightest smile on Po’s face, at the child’s words. Then Bitterblue turned away to help Katsa with the medicines.
The child’s teeth chattered as she knelt beside Katsa. She had no coat, and the blanket she wore as they traveled was threadbare. The girl carried their packages to the horse, brought water to Po, and shivered.
Why had Katsa not saved the hides of the rabbits she’d killed?
She would have to do something. She would have to find Bitterblue something warmer to wear. For this child’s protection was her charge, and she must think of everything. Her care of Bitterblue must be worthy of Po’s sacrifice.
Chapter Twenty-eight
IN THE PINK of dawn they stumbled upon a small cabin with little to offer except its shell; an abandoned cabin, perhaps once the lair of some Monsean hermit. It stood in a hollow more grassy than rocky, with a tree or two and a patch of weeds that looked as if it might once have served as a garden. Broken shutters and a cold fireplace. A blanket of dust on the rough wooden floor, on the table and the bed, on the cabinet that leaned on three lopsided legs with its door hanging open crookedly.
“This is where I’ll hide,” Po said.
“This is a place to live, Po,” Katsa said. “It’s not a place to hide. It’s far too obvious; no one will pass it without going inside.”
“But I could stay here, Katsa, and hide someplace nearby if I hear them coming.”
And what hiding place had he sensed nearby? “Po—”
“I wonder if there’s a pond anywhere near?” he said. “Come with me, ladies. I’m sure I hear water running.”
There was no sound of water that Katsa could hear, which meant that Po could hear none, either. She sighed. “Yes,” she said. “I think I hear it, too.”
They moved across the grasses behind the cabin. Po leaned against Katsa, and Bitterblue led the horse. Soon Katsa actually did hear water, and when they topped a brownish rise and the grass gave way to boulders, she saw it. Three great streams clambered down from the rocks above, joined together, and poured over a ledge into a deep pool. Here and there at its edges the pool overflowed, and a number of streams trickled downward and eastward toward the Monsean forest.
Very well, Katsa thought to him. And where’s the hiding place?
“There’s a waterfall like this in the mountains near my brother Skye’s castle,” Po said. “We were swimming one day, and we found a tunnel underwater that led to a cave.”
Katsa knew where this was going, and Bitterblue’s puzzled look—no, it would be more accurate to call it her suspicious look—suggested that Po had already said more than enough. Katsa sat Po down. She pulled off one of her boots. “If there’s a hiding place in this pool, Po, I’ll find it for you.” She pulled off her other boot. “But just because a hiding place exists doesn’t mean it’ll do you any good. You can’t get from the cabin to this pool on your own.”
“I can,” he said, “to save my life.”
“What will you do? Crawl?”
“There’s no shame in crawling when one can’t walk. And swimming requires less balance.”
She glared at him, and he looked calmly back, the slightest hint of amusement on his face. And why shouldn’t he be amused? For she was about to plunge into near-freezing water to search for a tunnel that he already knew existed, and explore a cave of which he already knew the exact size, shape, and location.
“I’m taking my clothes off,” she said, “so look away, Lord Prince.” For she could at least spare her clothing; and if this entire episode was a performance for Bitterblue, then they might as well also pretend Po was in no position to see her with her clothes off. Though Katsa didn’t suppose Bitterblue was any more fooled by that pretense than by the others. She stood beside the horse and kept her own counsel; and her eyes were big and childlike, but they were not unseeing.
Katsa sighed. She pulled off her coat. Point me in the right direction, Po.
She followed his gaze to the base of the waterfall. She threw her trousers onto the rocks beside her coat and boots. She clenched her teeth against the cold and stepped into the pool. Its bottom sloped steeply, and with a yelp she was submerged. She dived.
The rocks of the pool floor shone green far below her, and silver fish flashed in the light. She was surprised by the depth of this water hole. She kicked toward the waterfall. Her vision was all but useless in the cascade of bubbles at its base, but she felt along the rocks with her hands and found, in the dark below the pouring water, a cavity that must be Po’s tunnel. She smiled, despite herself. She would never have found this secret place on her own; likely not a single person had ever done what she was about to do. She shot to the surface for a breath of air, then dived back down and pulled herself through the opening.
It was dark in this tunnel, black, and the water was even colder than the water in the pool. She could see nothing. She kicked forward through the tunnel and counted steadily. Rocks scratched her arms, and she felt in front of her with her hands to avoid cracking her head against anything unexpected. It was narrow, but not dangerously so. Po would have no trouble, if he were well enough to swim.
As her count neared the number thirty, the passageway widened, and then the tunnel walls disappeared all around. She shot upward, hoping to break through the surface, for she didn’t know where to find the air of this black cave if it wasn’t straight above. She was conscious now of her sense of direction, at which Po had always marveled. If she lost the tunnel in this darkness, and if she couldn’t find an opening to the surface, it was over for Katsa. But Katsa knew exactly where the tunnel was, behind her and below her. She knew how far she’d gone, and in what direction; she knew up and down, east and west. The darkness wouldn’t claim her.
And of course, Po would never have sent her into this cave if it were a place she could not endure. Her shoulder hit rock, and she heard a muffled slap that sounded like surface water on shore. She kicked forward toward the sound, and then her head burst above water, and she was breathing. She felt around and found the rock whose underside she’d struck. It jutted above the surface and felt flat and mossy on top. She pulled herself onto it, teeth chattering.
It was blacker in this cave than any night she had ever known. There was not a flash on the water, not even a thinner blackness to give shape to the space around her. She stretched her arms but touched nothing. She had no sense of the height of the ceiling or the depth of these walls. She thought she heard water slapping against rock for some distance, but she couldn’t be sure without exploring. And she wouldn’t explore, because they hadn’t the time.
So this was Po’s cave. He would be safe enough here, if he could get himself here, for no one who didn’t share his Grace could ever find him in this cold, black hole under the mountain.
Katsa slipped back into the icy water and dived for the tunnel.
SHE CAME ASHORE with a pair of wriggling fish in her hands. “I found your cave,” she said. “It’ll be easy enough for you to manage, if by some wonder of medicine and healing you’re able to swim. The tunnel is just below the fall of water. And here’s your dinner.” She threw the fish onto the rocks and dried herself with a cloth Bitterblue brought to her. She dressed. She held out her hand for Po’s knife, and he tossed it to her. She beheaded the fish and cut them open. She threw the entrails back into the pond.
“You must go now,” Po said. “There’s no point in delay.”
“There’s some point in delay,” Katsa said. “What’ll you eat after these fish are gone?”
“I’ll manage.”
Katsa snorted. “You’ll manage? You don’t even have a bow, and even if you did I’d like to see your aim right now. We’ll not leave until you’ve plenty of food and firewood.”
“Katsa, honestly. You must go, you simply must—”
“The horse needs the rest of a morning,” Katsa said. “From now on it will ride hard. And—and—” She refused, simply refused, to give in to the panic that rattled
around inside her. And winter’s coming, and you can make me leave you here, but you can’t make me leave you here to starve to death.
Po rubbed his eyes. He sighed.
“You’ll need a lot of firewood. I’ll get started,” Bitterblue said, and Po laughed outright.
“I’m outnumbered,” he said. “Very well, Katsa. Do what you must. But before morning passes, you’ll be on your way.”
THE MORNING was a whirlwind. The faster Katsa moved, the less she could think, and so she moved as fast as her feet and her fingers were capable of. She caught him two rabbits, which he could cook with the fish that night and store safely for a number of days. She cursed the weather. It was cold enough for Po to be uncomfortable during the day, when he couldn’t risk a fire. But it wasn’t cold enough for freezing meat; nor did they have salt to treat it. She couldn’t kill him meat now to last the winter, or even to last him a number of weeks. And in a number of weeks the hunting would become difficult for even those hunters who walked steadily on their feet and carried a bow.
“Have you ever made a bow?” she asked him.
“Never.”
“I’ll find you the wood,” she said, “before we leave. And you’ll have the hides of these rabbits to reinforce the stave, and for the string. I’ll explain to you how it’s done.”
She cursed herself for the feathers she’d discarded from all of the birds she’d killed. But when her rushed passage over the rocks disturbed a roost of quail, she swept stones up from the ground and managed to knock the majority of them down. They would be Bitterblue’s dinner and her own, and Po would have the feathers for arrows.
When she found a young tree with strong, flexible limbs, she chose a curved piece for the bow and some long, straight branches for arrows. And then she had a thought. She cut more branches and split them apart. She began to weave a sort of basket, square, with sides, top, and bottom about the length of her arm. She wove it tightly, with small openings between the slats. When she came back to the pool where Po still sat and Bitterblue still scrambled for firewood, she carried the basket on one shoulder, and the quail and the branches under her other arm. She cut a couple of lengths of rope and tied them to the edges of her basket. She lowered the basket into the pool, just deep enough that it couldn’t be seen, and tied the ropes to the base of a bush on shore. Then she pulled off her boots, her coat, and her trousers, and prepared herself once more for the icy shock of the water.
She dived. She hung suspended under the water, and waited, and waited. When a fish flashed nearby, she grabbed. She swam to the basket and slid back the slats. She squeezed the wriggling fish inside and fastened the slats again. She dived back down, snatched another fish, swam to shore, and deposited the squirming body into the basket. She caught fish for Po; so many fish that by the time she was done, the basket swarmed with their crowded bodies.
“You may have to feed them,” she said, once she’d returned to shore and dressed. “But they should last you some time.”
“And now you must go,” Po said.
“I want to make you crutches first.”
“No,” Po said. “You’ll go now.”
“I want—”
“Katsa, do you think I want you to go? If I’m telling you to go it’s because you must.”
She looked into his face, and then looked away. “We need to divide our belongings,” she said.
“Bitterblue and I have done that.”
“I must dress your shoulder one last time.”
“The child has already done so.”
“Your water flask—”
“It’s full.”
Bitterblue came over the top of the rise then and joined them. “The cabin is bursting with firewood,” she said.
“It’s time for you to go,” Po said, and he leaned forward, balanced himself, and stood. Katsa bit back her protests and gave him her shoulder. Bitterblue untied the horse, and they made their way back to the cabin.
Your balance is better, Katsa thought to him. Come with us.
“Cousin,” Po said, “don’t let her run the horse ragged. And be sure she sleeps and eats every once in a while. She’ll try to give all the food to you.”
“As you have done,” Bitterblue said, and Po smiled.
“I’ve tried to give you most of the food,” he said. “Katsa will try to give you all of it.”
They stopped at the entrance to the cabin, and Po leaned back against the door frame. Come with us, Katsa thought as she stood before him.
“They’ll be on your tail,” Po said. “You must not let them get close enough to talk to you. Think about disguising yourself. You’re dirty and bedraggled, but any fool would recognize either of you. Katsa, I don’t know what you can do about your eyes, but you must do something.”
Come with us.
“Bitterblue, you must help Katsa if she’s confused by any words she hears. You must help each other. Don’t trust any Monsean, do you understand? You mustn’t trust anyone who may have been touched by Leck’s Grace. And don’t for a moment think you can defeat him, Katsa. Your only safety is in escaping him. Do you understand?”
Come with us.
“Katsa.” His voice was rough, yet gentle. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand,” she said, and when a tear trickled down her cheek, he reached out and wiped it away with one finger.
He studied her face for a moment, and then he turned to Bitterblue. He bent down on one knee and took her hands. “Farewell, cousin,” he said.
“Farewell,” the child said gravely.
He stood again, gingerly, and leaned back against the door frame. He closed his eyes and sighed. He opened his eyes and looked into Katsa’s face. His mouth twitched into the slightest grin. “You’ve always intended to leave me, Katsa.”
She choked on a sob. “How can you joke? You know this isn’t what I meant.”
“Oh, Katsa. Wildcat.” He touched her face. He smiled, so that it hurt her to look at him, and she was sure she couldn’t leave him alone. He pulled her close and kissed her, and he whispered something into her ear. She held on to him so hard that his shoulder must have ached, but he did not complain.
Katsa didn’t look back as they rode away. But she gripped Bitterblue tightly; and she called out to him, his name bursting inside her so painfully that for a long while, she could feel nothing else.
Chapter Twenty-nine
THEY FOLLOWED the edges of the Monsean mountains and pushed the poor horse south. They ran occasionally over open land, but more often than not their progress was slowed by cliffs, crevices, and waterfalls—places where there was no footing whatsoever for the horse. There, Katsa needed to dismount, backtrack, and lead the beast to lower ground. And then the hair would stand on the back of her neck and every sound would stop her breath; she couldn’t breathe freely until they’d climbed again. For the lower land gave way to the forest, and Katsa knew the forest must be swarming with Leck’s army.
The army would comb the forest, the Port Road, and the land between. They would comb the mountain pass at the border of Sunder and Estill. They would make camp in Monport and watch the ships that came and went, searching any ship likely to be hiding the kidnapped daughter of the king.
No. As the day turned to evening, Katsa knew she was fooling herself. They would search every ship, suspicious or not. They would search every building in the port city. They would comb the coastline east of Monport, and west to the mountains, and search every ship that chanced to approach the Monsean shore. They would tear the Lienid ships apart. And within a day or two, Katsa and Bitterblue would be sharing the base of the Monsean peaks with hordes of Leck’s soldiers. For there were only two paths out of Monsea: the sea, and the mountain pass on the Sunderan-Estillan border. If the fugitives weren’t found on the Port Road or in the forest, if the fugitives had not appeared on the mountain pass, in Monport, or aboard a ship, then Leck would know they were in the mountains, trapped by forest and sea, with the peaks t
hat formed the border of Monsea and Sunder at their back.
When night fell, Katsa built a small fire against a wall of rock. “Are you tired?” she asked Bitterblue.
“Yes, but not terribly,” the child said. “I’m learning to sleep on the horse.”
“You’ll have to sleep on the horse again tonight,” Katsa said, “for we must keep moving. Tell me, Princess. What do you know of this mountain range?”
“The range that divides us from Sunder? Very little. I don’t think anyone knows much about these mountains. Not many people have gone into them, except up north, of course, at the pass.”
“Hmm.” Katsa dug through her bags and unearthed the roll of maps. She flattened them in her lap and flipped through them. Clearly, Raffin had taken Po at his word when Po said he wasn’t sure where they were going. She thumbed past maps of Nander and Wester, maps of Drowden City and Birn City. A map of Sunder, and another of Murgon City. Numerous maps of various parts of Monsea. She pulled a curling page out of the pile, laid it on the ground beside the fire, and dropped stones onto its edges to hold it flat. Then she sat back on her heels and studied the princess, who stood guard over the roasting quail.
There were people in all seven kingdoms with gray eyes and dark hair; Bitterblue’s coloring was not unusual. But even in the dim glow of the fire, she stood out. Her straight nose, and the quiet line of her mouth. Or was it the thickness of her hair, or the way the hair swept itself back from her forehead? Katsa couldn’t quite decide what it was, but she knew that even without hoops in her ears or rings on her fingers, the child had something of the Lienid in her appearance. Something that went beyond her dark hair and light eyes.
In a kingdom searching desperately for the ten-year-old child of a Lienid mother, Bitterblue would be very difficult to disguise. Even once they did the obvious: Cut her hair, change her clothes, and turn her into a boy.
And the child’s companion was no less of a problem. Katsa didn’t make as convincing a boy in daylight as she did in the dark. And she would have to cover her green eye somehow. A feminine boy with one very bright blue eye, an eyepatch, and a Lienidish child charge would attract more attention in daylight than they could possibly weather. And they couldn’t afford to travel only at night. And even if they made it as far as Monport without being seen, once they were seen they would be recognized instantly. They would be apprehended, and she would have to kill people. She would have to commandeer a boat, or steal one, she who didn’t know the first thing about boats. Leck would hear of it and know exactly where to find them.
