Graceling

by Kristin Cashore

  "She's hysterical," Po's mother said to Katsa.

  "Yes," Katsa said. She held the child close. "I'll take care of her."

  "Where's my son?" the woman asked, her eyes going wide with worry. "Do you know where my son is?"

  "Indeed," Leck said in his booming voice. He tilted his head, and his single eye watched Katsa. "You're missing one of your party. I hope he's alive?"

  "Yes," Katsa said—and then wondered, vaguely, if she'd meant to pretend he was dead. Hadn't she pretended once before that Po was dead? But why would she have done that?

  Leck's eye snapped. "Is he really? Such wonderful news. Perhaps we can help him. Where is he?"

  Bitterblue cried out. "Don't tell him, Katsa. Don't tell him where Po is, don't tell him, don't tell him—"

  Katsa shushed the girl. "It's all right, child."

  "Please don't tell him."

  "I won't," Katsa said. "I won't." She bent her face into Bitterblue's hat and decided it was right not to tell this man where Po was, not when it upset the child so.

  "Very well," Leck said. "I see how things are."

  He was silent for a moment. He seemed to be thinking. His fingers fiddled at the hilt of a knife in his belt. His eyes slid to Bitterblue and lingered; and Katsa found herself pulling the child closer to her own body, and covering the child with her arms.

  "My daughter isn't herself," Leck said. "She's confused, she's ill, her mind is disturbed; and she thinks that I would hurt her. I've been telling Prince Po's family about my daughter's illness." He swept his hand around the room. "I've been telling them about how she ran away from home after her mother's accident. About how you and Prince Po found her, Lady Katsa, and how you've been keeping her safe for me."

  Katsa followed his gesture around the room. More familiar faces, one of them a man older than Leck, a king. Po's father. His features strong and proud, but a vagueness to his eyes. A vagueness to the eyes of everyone in this room, to these younger men who must be Po's brothers, and these women who must be their wives. Or was it a vagueness in her own mind that stopped her from seeing their faces clearly? "Yes," she said, to whatever comment Leck had just made. Something about Bitterblue's safety. "Yes. I've kept her safe."

  "Tell me," Leck's voice boomed. "How did you leave Monsea? Did you cross the mountains?"

  "Yes," Katsa said.

  Leck threw back his head and laughed. "I thought you must have, when we lost track of you. I very nearly decided to sit back and wait. I knew you'd surface somewhere, eventually. But when I made inquiries, I learned that you weren't welcome at your own court, Lady Katsa. And it made me crazy, absolutely crazy, to sit around doing nothing while my dear child was—" His eye rested again on Bitterblue and he rubbed his hand over his mouth. "While my girl was apart from me. I decided to take a chance. I ordered my people to continue the search, of course, across the other kingdoms; but I decided to try Lienid myself."

  Katsa shook her head, but the fog in her mind wouldn't clear. "You needn't have worried," she said. "I've kept her safe."

  "Yes," he said. "And now you've brought her to me, straight to my doorstep, to my castle here on Lienid's western shore."

  "Your castle," Katsa said dully. She had thought this was Po's castle. Or had she thought it was her own castle? No, that was absurd; she was a lady of the Middluns, and she had no castle. She must have misunderstood something someone said, somewhere.

  "Now it's time for you to give my child back to me," Leck said.

  "Yes," Katsa said, but it worried her to relinquish care of the girl, who had stopped struggling but was collapsed now against Katsa muttering nonsense to herself and whimpering. Repeating the words Leck said over and over, in whispered bewilderment, as if she were testing how they sounded in her own voice.

  "Yes," Katsa said again. "I will—but not until she's feeling better."

  "No," Leck said. "Bring her to me now. I know how to make her feel better."

  Katsa truly did not like this man. The way he ordered her around—and the way he looked at Bitterblue, with something in his gaze Katsa had seen before but couldn't quite place. Bitterblue was Katsa's responsibility. Katsa raised her chin. "No. She'll stay with me until she's feeling better."

  Leck laughed. He looked around the room. "The Lady Katsa is nothing if not contrary," he said. "But I don't suppose any of us should blame her for being protective. Well, no matter. I'll enjoy my daughter's company"—his eye flicked to the girl again—"later."

  "And now will you tell me of my son?" the woman beside Katsa asked. "Why isn't he here? He isn't injured, is he?"

  "Yes," Leck said. "Comfort an anxious mother, Lady Katsa. Tell us all about Prince Po. Is he nearby?"

  Katsa turned to the woman, flustered, trying to work out too many puzzles at once. Certainly there were some things it was safe to say about Po; but weren't some topics meant to be kept quiet? The categories were blurring. Perhaps it was best to say nothing at all. "I don't wish to talk of Po," she said.

  "Don't you?" Leck asked. "That's unfortunate. For I do wish to talk of Po."

  He tapped the arm of his chair for a moment, thoughtfully.

  "He's a strong young man, our Po," he continued. "Strong and brave. A credit to his family. But he's not without his secrets, is he?"

  Katsa felt, suddenly, her nerves jangling to the tips of her fingers.

  Leck watched her. "Yes," he said. "Po's a bit of a problem, isn't he?" He lowered his eyebrows and pursed his lips; and then he seemed to come to a decision. He looked around the room, at the various members of Po's family, and beamed. He spoke pleasantly.

  "I had thought to keep something to myself," he said. "But it occurs to me now that Po is indeed very strong; and he may appear someday on our doorstep. And perhaps, in anticipation of that event, it would be best for me to tell you all something that may"—he smiled shortly—"have some bearing on how you receive him. For you see, my Lady Katsa," he said, his eye locking into hers, "I've been thinking quite a lot about our dear Po, and I've developed a theory. A theory that you'll all find fascinating, if a bit upsetting. Yes," he said, smiling into the puzzled faces that watched him. "It's always a bit upsetting to learn that one has been double-crossed, and by a member of the family. And you're the very person to test my theory on, Lady Katsa, because I think you may be in possession of Prince Po's truth."

  Po's father and his brothers shifted in their chairs and furrowed their eyebrows; and Katsa's mind was numb with panic and confusion.

  "It's a theory about Prince Po's Grace," Leck said.

  Katsa heard a small breath beside her, from the woman who was Po's mother. The woman took one step toward Leck, and put her hand to her throat. "Wait," she said. "I don't know—" She stopped. She turned her eyes to Katsa, puzzled, afraid. And Katsa was on fire with bewilderment and with desperate alarm. She felt—she understood—she could almost just barely remember—

  "I believe your Po has been hiding a secret from you," Leck said. "Tell me if I'm right, Lady Katsa, that Prince Po is actually—"

  It was then, at last, that a bolt of certainty struck Katsa. In that moment she moved. She dropped the child, snatched the dagger from her belt, and threw. Not because she remembered Leck must die. Not because she remembered the truth of Po's Grace. But because she remembered that Po did have a secret, a terrible secret, the revelation of which would hurt him in some horrible way she felt deeply but couldn't remember—and here this man sat, the secret on the tip of his tongue. And she must stop him, somehow stop him; she must silence this man, before the ruinous words were said.

  In the end, Leck should have stuck to his lies. For it was the truth he almost told that killed him.

  THE DAGGER flew straight and true. It embedded itself in Leck's open mouth and nailed him to the back of his chair. He sat there, arms and legs sagging, his single eye wide and lifeless. Blood spilling around the hilt of the blade and down the front of his robes. And now women were screaming, and men were shouting in outrage, running toward he
r with swords drawn, and Katsa knew instantly she must be careful in this fight. She must not hurt Po's brothers and his father. And suddenly they stopped, because with one long look at Leck, Bitterblue staggered to her feet.

  She placed herself before Katsa, pulled her own knife from its sheath, and held it shakily against them.

  "You will not hurt her," Bitterblue said. "She did right."

  "Child," King Ror said. "Move aside, for we don't wish to hurt you. You aren't well. Princess Bitterblue, you're protecting the murderer of your own father."

  "I'm perfectly well now that he's dead," Bitterblue said, her voice growing stronger and her hand steadying. "And I'm not a princess. I'm the Queen of Monsea. Katsa's punishment is my responsibility, and I say she did right, and you will not hurt her."

  She did seem well—competent with the knife in her hand, composed, and very determined. Po's brothers and his father stood in a semicircle, swords raised. Rings on their fingers and hoops in their ears. Like seven variations on Po, Katsa thought vaguely—but with no lights in their eyes. She rubbed her own eyes. She was tired, she couldn't quite think. Several women in the background were crying.

  "She murdered your father," King Ror said again now, but weakly. He raised his hand to his forehead. He peered at Bitterblue, puzzled.

  "My father was evil," Bitterblue said. "My father had the Grace of deceiving people with his words. He's been deceiving you—about my mother's death, my illness, his intentions toward me. Katsa has been protecting me from him. Today she saved me altogether."

  All their hands were to their heads. All their eyebrows were drawn, all their faces masks of bewilderment.

  "Did he say—did Leck say that he owned this castle? Did he—" Ror's voice trailed away. His eyes stared into the rings on his hands.

  Po's mother drew a shaky breath. She turned to her husband. "It seems possible to me that what Lady Katsa has done wasn't entirely unwarranted," she said. "He was clearly about to make some absurd accusation regarding our Po. I, for one, am willing to consider the possibility that he's been lying all along." She pressed her hand to her chest. "We should sit down and try to sort this out."

  Her husband and her sons scratched their heads, nodded their heads vaguely. "Let's all sit," Ror said, waving his arms to the chairs. He glanced at Leck's body and started, as if he'd forgotten it sat there, slumped and bleeding. "Bring the chairs here, to the middle of the room, away from that—spectacle. Sons, help the ladies. There, there, they are crying. Princess—Queen—Bitterblue, will you repeat again the things you've just said? I confess my head is muddled. Sons, keep your swords drawn—there's no point in being careless."

  "I'll disarm her," Bitterblue said, "if it will make you more comfortable. Please, Katsa," she said apologetically, holding out her hand.

  Katsa reached into her boot and handed the child her knife, numbly. She sat in the chair that was brought to her and numbly registered the bustle of people forming a circle, the clanking of swords, the women wiping their faces and gasping, clinging to their husbands' arms. She dropped her head into her hands. For her mind was returning, and she understood now what she had done.

  IT WAS LIKE a spell that fizzled away slowly, popping one bubble at a time, and leaving their minds empty. Truly empty; they spoke stupidly, slowly, straining to reconstruct a conversation they couldn't remember, even though every one of them had been present for it.

  Ror couldn't even give straight answers to Bitterblue's questions, about when Leck had arrived in Lienid, what he'd said; what he'd done to convince them that Po's castle was his. To convince Ror to leave his city and his court and come to a remote corner of his kingdom, with his wife and his sons, and amuse Leck and subjugate himself to Leck, while Leck waited for a daughter who might never arrive. What things Leck had said during that waiting time came slowly, incredulously from Ror's lips. "I believe ... I believe he told me that he would like to establish himself in my city. Beside my throne!"

  "I believe he said something about my serving girls, something I won't repeat," Ror's queen said.

  "He spoke of altering our trade agreements! I'm sure of it!" Ror exclaimed. "In favor of Monsea!"

  Ror stood and began to stride around the room. Katsa rose woodenly, in respect for a rising king, but the queen pulled her back down. "If we stood every time he marched around we'd always be standing," she said. Her hand rested on Katsa's arm a bit longer than was necessary, and her gaze on Katsa's face. Her voice was gentle. The further the assembly moved toward unraveling Leck's manipulations, the more kindly the Queen of Lienid seemed to look upon the lady Graceling at her side.

  Ror's fury escalated, and the fury of his sons, each shaking off his stupor and rising one by one. Shouting their outrage, arguing with each other about what had been said. "Is Po really all right?" one of them asked Katsa, one of the younger ones who paused before her chair and looked into her face. A tear dropped onto her cheek, and she left it to Bitterblue to tell their story, to tell truths about Leck that struck the assembly like arrows. That Leck had desired to hurt the child in some eerie, horrible way; that Leck had kidnapped Grandfather Tealiff; that Leck had murdered Ashen. That his men had nearly murdered Po. And now Ror's grief matched his fury, and he knelt on the floor sobbing, for his father and his son and especially his sister; and his sons' shouts grew even louder and more incredulous. Katsa thought dumbly that it was no wonder Po was so voluble. In Lienid everyone was, and everyone spoke at once. She wiped the tears from her face and fought against her own confusion.

  When the young brother crouched before Katsa again and offered her his handkerchief, she took it and stared stupidly into his face. "Do you think Po's all right?" he asked. "Will you go back for him now? I'd like to go with you."

  She wiped her face with the handkerchief. "Which one are you?"

  The brother smiled. "I'm Skye. I've never seen anyone throw a dagger so fast. You're exactly as I imagined you."

  He rose to his feet again and went to his father. Katsa held her stomach and tried to calm the sourness surging inside her. The fog of Leck's Grace was slower to leave her than to leave the others, and she was sick with what she'd done. Yes, Leck was dead, and that was a good thing. But it was because she'd used a dagger—a dagger—to stop someone talking. It was as violent as anything she'd ever done for Randa. And she hadn't even known what she was doing.

  SHE MUST go to Po. She must leave them all to piece the truth together by themselves. It didn't matter, these details they picked apart and discussed and argued over, on and on, as the day turned to night. Bitterblue was saved, and that mattered; Po was alone and hurt, and struggling through a Monsean winter, and that mattered.

  "Will you tell them about the ring?" Bitterblue asked her that night as Katsa sat in their bedroom forcing her sluggish mind to take stock of their supply situation.

  "No," she said. "There's no need. It'll only worry them. The first thing I'll do when I reach Po is give it back to him."

  "Will we leave very early?"

  Katsa's eyes snapped to the child who stood before her, her face serious, one hand resting on the knife at her belt. The Queen of Monsea, in trousers and short hair, looking for all the world like a miniature pirate.

  "You needn't come," Katsa said. "It'll be a difficult journey. Once we reach Monport we'll be traveling very fast, and I won't lessen my pace for your comfort."

  "Of course I'm coming."

  "You're the Queen of Monsea now. You can commission a great ship and travel in luxury. You can wait until the season turns."

  "And fret, here in Lienid, until you send word that Po's all right? Of course I'll come with you."

  Katsa looked into her lap and swallowed a lump in her throat. She didn't like to admit how it comforted her, to know Bitterblue would be with her for this. "We leave at first light," she said, "on a boat Ror's furnished from the village nearby. We go first to collect Captain Faun and resupply her ship. Then she'll take us to Monport."

  Bitterblue nodded. "Th
en I'm going to take a bath and go to sleep. Where do you suppose I must go to find someone who'll bring hot water?"

  Katsa smiled, mildly. "Ring the bell, Lady Queen. Po's servants are a bit overtaxed at the moment, I do believe; but for the ruler of Monsea, someone will come."

  It was, in fact, Po's mother who came. She appraised the situation and produced a servant girl who swept Bitterblue off to another room, murmuring reassurances about the temperature of the water and curtsying as best she could with her arms full of towels.

  Po's mother stayed behind and sat beside Katsa on the bed. She clasped her hands in her lap. The rings on her fingers caught the light from the fireplace and drew Katsa's eyes.

  "Po told me you wear nineteen rings," she heard herself saying, senselessly. She took a breath. She gripped her forehead and tried, for the hundredth time, to drive from her mind the image of Leck nailed to his chair by her dagger.

  The queen opened her hands and considered her rings. She closed them again, and looked sideways at Katsa. "The others think you remembered the truth, suddenly, about Leck," she said. "They think you remembered it suddenly and silenced him right away, before his lies caused you to forget again. And perhaps that is what happened. But I believe I understand why you found the strength to act at that moment."

  Katsa looked back at the woman, at her calm face and quiet, intelligent eyes. She answered the question she saw in those eyes. "Po has told me the truth of his Grace."

  "He must love you very much," the queen said, so simply that Katsa started. Katsa ducked her head.

  "I was very angry," she said, "when first he told me. But I have ... recovered from my anger."

  It was a woefully inadequate description of her feelings, this Katsa knew. But the queen watched her, and Katsa thought the woman understood some of what she didn't say.