Graceling (Graceling Realm #1)(43)
Author: Kristin Cashore

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 stillsat and Bitterblue stillscrambled 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’l go now.”

“I want – ”

“Katsa, do you think I want you to go? If I’m tell ing 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 ful .”

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’l 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’l 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.

“Farewel , cousin,” he said.

“Farewel ,” 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 cal ed out to him, his name bursting inside her so painful y 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 occasional y over open land, but more often than not their progress was slowed by cliffs, crevices, and waterfal s – 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 Estil .

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-Estil an 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 that formed the border of Monsea and Sunder at their back.

When night fel , 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’l 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 rol 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.

Her eyes dropped from the princess to the map on the ground before her. It was a map of the Sunderan-Monsean border, the impassable Monsean peaks. If Po were here he would suspect what she was thinking. She could imagine the monstrous argument they would be having.

She imagined the argument, because it helped her to come to her decision.

When they’d eaten their dinner she rolled up the maps and fastened their belongings to the saddle. “Up you go, Bitterblue. We can’t waste this night. We must move on.”

“Po warned you not to run the horse ragged,” Bitterblue said.

“The horse is about to enjoy a very thorough rest. We’re heading into the mountains, and once we get a bit higher we’l be setting him free.”

“Into the mountains,” Bitterblue said. “What do you mean, into the mountains?”

Katsa scattered the remains of their fire. She dug a hole with her dagger to hide the bones of their dinner. “There’s no safety for us in Monsea.

We’re going to cross the mountains into Sunder.”

Bitterblue stood stillbeside the horse and stared at her. “Cross the mountains? These mountains, here?”

“Yes. The mountain pass at the northern border will be guarded. We must find our own passageway, here.”

“Even in summer, no one crosses these mountains,” the girl said. “It’s almost winter. We have no warmer clothes.

We have no tools, only your dagger and my knife. It’s not possible. We’l never survive.”

Katsa had a response to that, though she knew none of the particulars. She lifted the girl into the saddle and swung onto the horse behind her.