Graceling

by Kristin Cashore

  "Stop," Katsa said to the remaining sailor. "I don't wish to harm you, and we're not thieves."

  "Prince Po would never give that ring to a Sunderan urchin," Jem gasped.

  "And you do your Graceling prince little honor," Katsa said, digging her knee into his back, "if you think a Sunderan urchin could've robbed him."

  "All right," the captain said. "That's more than enough. Drop those blades, Lady, and release my man."

  "If this other fellow comes toward me," Katsa said, pointing the sword at the remaining sailor, "he'll end up sleeping beside Bear."

  "Come back, Patch," the captain said to her man, "and lower that knife. Do it," she said sharply, when Patch hesitated. The expression he shot at Katsa was ugly, but he obeyed.

  Katsa dropped her blades to the floor. Jem stood, rubbed his neck, and focused a scowl in her direction. Katsa thought of a few choice words she would like to say to Po. She looped his ring back around her neck.

  "What exactly have you done to Bear?" the captain asked.

  "He'll wake soon enough."

  "He'd better."

  "He will."

  "And now you'll explain yourself," the captain said. "The last we heard of our prince, he was in the Middluns, at the court of King Randa. Training with you, if I'm not mistaken."

  A noise came from the corner. They turned to see Bitterblue on her knees, huddled against the wall, vomiting onto the floor. Katsa went to the girl and helped her to her feet. Bitterblue clung to her clumsily. "The floor is moving."

  "Yes," Katsa said. "You'll get used to it."

  "When? When will I get used to it?"

  "Come, child."

  Katsa practically carried Bitterblue back to the captain. "Captain Faun," she said, "this is Princess Bitterblue of Monsea. Po's cousin. As you've guessed, I'm Katsa of the Middluns."

  "I would also guess there's nothing wrong with that eye," the captain said.

  Katsa pulled the cloth away from her green eye. She looked into the face of the captain, who met her gaze coolly. She turned to Patch and Jem, who looked back at her, understanding now, eyebrows high. So familiar, in the features of their faces, their dark hair, the gold in their ears. The evenness with which they looked into her eyes.

  Katsa turned back to the captain. "The princess is in great danger," she said. "I'm taking her to Lienid to hide her from ... from those who wish to harm her. Po said you would help us when I showed you his ring. But if you won't, I'll do everything in the power of my Grace to force your assistance."

  The captain stared at her, eyes narrowed and face hard to read. "Let me see that ring more closely."

  Katsa stepped forward. She wouldn't remove the ring from its place around her neck again, not when the sight of it inspired such madness. But the captain didn't fear her, and she reached out to Katsa's throat to take the gold circle in her fingers. She turned it this way and that in the light. She dropped the ring and narrowed her eyes at Bitterblue. She turned back to Katsa.

  "Where is our prince?" she asked.

  Katsa deliberated and decided that she must give this woman pieces, at least, of the truth. "Some distance from here, recovering from injury."

  "Is he dying?"

  "No," Katsa said, startled. "Of course not."

  The captain peered at her, and frowned. "Then why did he give you his ring?"

  "I told you. He gave it to me so that a Lienid ship would help us."

  "Nonsense. If that's all he wanted, then why didn't he give you the king's ring, or the queen's?"

  "I don't know," Katsa said. "I don't know the meanings of the rings, aside from which people they represent. This is the one he chose to give me."

  The captain humphed. Katsa clenched her teeth and prepared herself to say something very caustic, but Bitterblue's voice stopped her.

  "Po did give the ring to Katsa," she said miserably. Her voice was thick, her body hunched over itself. "Po meant for her to have it. And as he didn't explain what it meant, you should explain for him. Right now."

  The captain considered Bitterblue. Bitterblue raised her chin, grim and stubborn. The captain sighed. "It's very rare for a Lienid to give away one of his rings, and almost unheard of for him to give away the ring of his own identity. To give that ring is to forsake his own identity. Princess Bitterblue, your lady has around her neck the ring of the Seventh Prince of Lienid. If Prince Po had truly given her that ring, it would mean that he'd abdicated his princehood. He'd no longer be a prince of Lienid. He'd make her a princess and give her his castle and his inheritance."

  Katsa stared. She pulled at a chair and sat down hard. "That can't be."

  "Not one in a thousand Lienid gives that ring away," the captain said. "Most wear it to their graves in the sea. But occasionally—if a woman is dying and wants a sister to take her place as the mother of her children, or if a dying shopkeeper wants his shop to go to a friend, or if a prince is dying and wants to change the line of succession—a Lienid will make a gift of that ring." The captain turned to glare at Katsa. "The Lienid love their princes, most especially the youngest prince, the Graceling prince. To steal Prince Po's ring would be considered a terrible crime."

  But Katsa was shaking her head, from confusion that Po should have done such a thing, and from fear of the word the captain kept saying over and over. Dying. Po wasn't dying. "I don't want it," she said. "That he should give me this, and not explain—"

  Bitterblue leaned against the table, her face gray, and moaned. "Katsa, don't worry. You can be sure he had some reason."

  "But what reason would he have? His injuries weren't so bad—"

  "Katsa." The child's voice was patient but tired. "Think. He gave you the ring before he was injured. It wasn't such a strange thing for him to do, knowing he might die in the fight."

  Katsa saw then what it meant; and her hand went to her throat. It was just like him. And now she was fighting back tears because it was just the sort of mad thing he would get it into his mind to do—mad and foolish, far too kind, and unnecessary, because he wasn't going to die. "Why in the Middluns didn't he tell me?"

  "If he had," Bitterblue said, "you wouldn't have taken it."

  "You're right, I wouldn't have taken it. Can you see me taking such a thing from Po? Can you see me agreeing to such a thing? And he's right to have given it, because he is going to die, because I'm going to kill him when next I see him, for doing such a thing and frightening me and not telling me what it meant."

  "Of course you will," Bitterblue said soothingly.

  "It's not permanent, is it?" Katsa asked, turning to the captain. She then noticed for the first time that the captain was looking at her differently. So were Patch and Jem. Their faces white, and something shocked and quiet in their eyes. They believed her now, that she hadn't stolen the ring, and they believed that their prince had given it to her. And Katsa was relieved that at least that part of this ordeal was behind them. "I can give it back to him," she asked the captain, "can't I?"

  The captain cleared her throat. She nodded. "Yes, Lady Princess."

  "Great hills," Katsa said, distressed. "Don't call me that."

  "You may give it back to him at any time, Lady Princess," the captain said, "or give it to someone else. And he may reclaim it. In the meantime, your position entitles you to every power and authority held by a prince of Lienid. It's ours to do your bidding."

  "I'll be content if you'll take us quickly to Po's castle on the western shore," Katsa said, "and stop calling me Princess."

  "It's your castle now, Lady Princess."

  Katsa's temper was beginning to throw out sparks, for she wanted none of this treatment; but before she could argue, a man knocked on the door frame. "We're ready, Captain."

  Katsa pulled Bitterblue to the side as the room erupted with commotion. The captain began to bark instructions. "Patch, get back to your post and get us out of here. Jem, see to Bear. And clean up that mess in the corner. I'm needed on deck, Lady Princess. Come above, if you wish. Princess
Bitterblue's seasickness will be less there."

  "I've told you not to call me that," Katsa said.

  The captain ignored her and marched to the doorway. Katsa swept Bitterblue under her arm and followed her, glaring at the woman's back as they passed through the corridor.

  And then in the blackness at the foot of the ladder, the captain stopped. She turned back to Katsa. "Lady Princess," she said. "What you're doing here—and why you're disguised, and why the child princess is in danger—is your affair. I won't ask for an explanation. But if there's any assistance I can give, you need only to voice it. I'm at your service, completely."

  Katsa reached to her breast and touched the circle of gold. She was thankful, after all, for the power it gave her, if that power would help her to serve Bitterblue. And that might be an explanation for Po's gift as well; perhaps he'd only wanted her to have full authority, so that she might protect the child better. But she didn't want everyone on deck to see the ring, if it inspired such adoration. She didn't want everyone talking about it and pointing it out and treating her this way. She loosened the neck of her coat and tucked the ring inside.

  "Prince Po is recovering from his injuries?" Captain Faun asked; and Katsa heard the worry, the authentic worry, as if the captain were inquiring after a member of her own family. And Katsa also heard the royal title, less easily dropped from Po's name than added to her own.

  "He's recovering," she said.

  And it occurred to her to wonder then if the Lienid would love their prince so much if they knew the truth of his Grace.

  It was all too confusing, all that had happened since she'd come aboard this vessel, and too many parts of it hurt her heart.

  On deck, she led Bitterblue to the side of the ship. Together they breathed the sea air and watched the dark sparkle of the water.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  WHAT SHE really loved was to hang over the edge and watch the bow of the ship slice through the waves. She loved it especially when the waves were high and the ship rose and fell, or when it was snowing and the flakes stung her face. The men laughed and told each other that Princess Katsa was a born sailor. To which Bitterblue added, once Bitterblue was well enough to come above deck and join in their banter, that Katsa was born to do anything normal people might consider terrifying.

  What she really wanted was to climb into the highest riggings of the highest mast and hang down from the sky; and one clear day when Patch, who happened to be the first mate, sent a fellow named Red up to unravel a tangle of ropes, he told her to go along.

  "You shouldn't encourage her," Bitterblue said to Patch, her hands on her hips and her face turned up to glare into his. Her countenance fierce, for all that she was a fifth Patch's size.

  "Lady Princess, I reckon she'll go up there eventually with or without my say-so, and I'd rather it be now while I'm watching, than at night, or during a squall."

  "If you think sending her up there now will keep her from—"

  "Watch yourself," Patch said as the deck lurched and Bitterblue pitched forward. He caught her and lifted her into his arms. They watched Katsa climb hand and foot up the mast behind Red; and when Katsa finally looked down at them from her place in the sky, swinging so wildly back and forth that she marveled at Red's ability to untangle anything, she thought of how Bitterblue had trusted no man when first they'd met. And now the girl allowed this enormous sailor to pick her up and hold her, like a father, and the girl's arm was around Patch's neck, and she and Patch laughed up at Katsa together.

  THE CAPTAIN predicted the journey would last four or five weeks, give or take. The ship moved fast, and most of the time they were alone on the ocean. Katsa never climbed up into the riggings without straining her eyes behind them for some sign of pursuit, but no one was after them. It was a relief not to feel hunted, and not to feel as if one must hide. It was safe on the open sea, isolated with Captain Faun and her crew, for not one sailor seemed to look upon them with suspicion, and she came gradually to trust that none had been touched by any rumors of Leck's.

  "We weren't even a day in Suncliff," the captain told her. "You're lucky, Lady Princess. You have my Grace to thank for it."

  "And for our speed," Katsa said. For it was a stormy winter at sea, and though they changed course so often their path must look like some odd dance across the water, they managed to avoid the worst of it. Their progress west was steady.

  Katsa had told the captain of Leck's Grace and the reasons they fled, in the first few days when Bitterblue had been very sick and Katsa had had nothing to do but care for the girl and think. She'd told the captain because it had occurred to her, with a sinking feeling, that the forty-some men aboard this ship knew exactly who she and Bitterblue were and exactly where they were going. That made forty-some informants, once Katsa and Bitterblue were delivered to their destination and the ship returned to its trade route.

  "I can vouch for the confidence of most of my men, Lady Princess," Captain Faun said. "Most, if not all."

  "You don't understand," Katsa said. "Where King Leck is involved I can't even vouch for my own confidence. It's not good enough for them to swear to say nothing to no one. If one of Leck's stories touches their ears, they'll forget their vows."

  "What would you have me do then, Lady Princess?"

  Katsa hated to ask it, and so she stared at the charts on the table before them, pursed her lips, and waited for the captain to understand her. It didn't take long.

  "You want us to remain at sea, once we've left you in Lienid," the captain said, her voice sharp and growing sharper as she spoke. "You want us to hold at sea, out of the way, all winter—longer, perhaps indefinitely—until you and Prince Po, who aren't even in communication, have found some way to immobilize the King of Monsea. At which point I suppose we must wait for someone to come in search of us and invite us back ashore? What's left of us, because we'll run out of supplies, Lady Princess—we're a trade vessel, you know, designed to sail from port to port and replenish our food and water at each stop. It's strain enough that we go now straight back to Lienid—"

  "Your cargo hold is full of the fruits and vegetables of your trade," Katsa said, "and your men know how to fish."

  "We'll run out of water."

  "Then ride your ship into a storm," Katsa said.

  The captain's face was incredulous. Katsa supposed it was an absurd suggestion—all of it absurd, for her to expect this ship to turn circles in some frozen corner of the sea, waiting for the approach of news that might never come. All for the safety of one young life. The captain made a noise part disbelief and part laughter, and Katsa prepared for an argument.

  But the woman stared into her hands, thinking; and when she finally spoke, she surprised Katsa.

  "You ask a great deal," she said, "but I can't pretend I don't understand why you ask it. Leck must be stopped, and not just for the sake of Princess Bitterblue. His Grace is limitless, and a king with his proclivities is a danger to all seven kingdoms. If my crew avoids any contact with gossip and rumors, that's forty-three men and one woman whose minds are clear to the task at hand.

  "And," she continued, "I've promised to help you in any way I can."

  It was Katsa's turn now to disbelieve. "You'll really do this thing?"

  "Lady Princess," the captain said. "It's not in my power to refuse anything you ask. But this thing I'll do willingly, for as long as I can without endangering my men and my ship. And on the condition that I'll be reimbursed for my lost trade."

  "That goes without saying."

  "Nothing in business goes without saying, Lady Princess."

  And so they made an agreement. The captain would hold at sea in a place near to Lienid, a specific place just west of an uninhabited island she could describe and another vessel could find, until such time as the other vessel came for her, or circumstances aboard her ship rendered it impossible for her isolation to continue.

  "I've no idea what I'll tell my crew," the captain said.

  "Wh
en the time comes for explanations," Katsa said, "tell them the truth."

  THE CAPTAIN asked Katsa and Bitterblue one day, as they sat in the galley over a meal, how they'd gotten to Suncliff without being seen.

  "We crossed the Monsean peaks into Sunder," Katsa said, "and traveled through the forests. When we reached the outskirts of Suncliff, we traveled only by night."

  "How did you cross the mountain pass, Lady Princess? Wasn't it guarded?"

  "We didn't cross at the mountain pass. We took Grella's Pass."

  The captain peered at Katsa over the cup she'd raised to her face. She set the cup down. "I don't believe you."

  "It's true."

  "You crossed Grella's Pass and kept your fingers and toes, let alone your lives? I might believe it of you, Lady Princess, but I can't believe it of the child."

  "Katsa carried me," Bitterblue said.

  "And we had good weather," Katsa added.

  The captain's laugh rang out. "It's no use lying to me about the weather, Lady Princess. It's snowed in Grella's Pass every day since summer, and there are few places in the seven kingdoms colder."

  "Nonetheless, it could have been worse the day we crossed."

  The captain was still laughing. "If I ever need a protector, Lady Princess, I hope to find you nearby."

  A day or two later, after Katsa had come up from one of the frigid ocean baths she liked to take—the baths that Bitterblue considered further proof she was mad—she sat on Bitterblue's bunk and peeled away her soaking clothing. Their quarters were barely big enough for the two bunks they slept in and badly lit by a lantern that swung from the ceiling. Bitterblue brought Katsa a cloth to dry her wet skin and frozen hair. She reached out to touch Katsa's shoulder. Katsa looked down and saw, in the wavering light, the lines of white skin that had caught the girl's attention. The scars, where the claws of the mountain lion had torn her flesh. Lines on her breast, too.