Graceling (Graceling Realm #1)(24)
Author: Kristin Cashore

I’m beginning to think I won’t have much responsibility as we travel through the forest together.”

“Does it bother you? You’re welcome to do the hunting yourself. Perhaps I can stay by the fire and mend your socks, and scream if I hear any strange noises.”

He smiled then. “Do you treat Giddon like this, when the two of you travel? I imagine he finds it quite humiliating.”

“Poor Po. You may content yourself with reading my mind, if you wish to feel superior.”

He laughed. “I know you’re teasing me. And you should know I’m not easily humiliated. You may hunt for my food, and pound me every time we fight, and protect me when we’re attacked, if you like. I’ll thank you for it.”

“But I’d never need to protect you, if we were attacked. And I doubt you need me to do your hunting, either.”

“True. But you’re better than I am, Katsa. And it doesn’t humiliate me.” He fed a branch to the fire. “It humbles me.

But it doesn’t humiliate me.”

She sat quietly as night closed in and watched the blood drip from the hunk of meat she held on a stick over the fire.

She listened to it sizzle as it hit the flames. She tried to separate in her mind the idea of being humbled from the idea of being humiliated, and she understood what Po meant. She wouldn’t have thought to make the distinction. He was so clear with his thoughts, while hers were a constant storm that she could never make sense of and never control. She felt suddenly and sharply that Po was smarter than she, worlds smarter, and that she was a brute in comparison. An unthinking and unfeeling brute.

“Katsa.”

She looked up. The flames danced in the silver and gold of his eyes and caught the hoops in his ears. His face was all light.

“Tel me,” he said. “Whose idea was the Council?”

“It was mine.”

“And who has decided what missions the Council carries out?”

“I have, ultimately.”

“Who has planned each mission?”

“I have, with Raffin and Oll and the others.”

He watched his meat cooking over the fire. He turned it, and shook it absently, so the juice fel spitting into the flames. He raised his eyes to her again.

“I don’t see how you can compare us,” he said, “and find yourself lacking in intel igence, or unthinking or unfeeling.

I’ve had to spend my entire life hammering out the emotions of others, and myself, in my mind. If my mind is clearer, sometimes, than yours, it’s because I’ve had more practice. That’s the only difference between us.”

He focused on his meat again. She watched him, listening.

“I wish you would remember the Council,” he said. “I wish you would remember that when we met, you were rescuing my grandfather, for no other reason than that you didn’t believe he deserved to be kidnapped.”

He leaned into the fire then and added another branch to the flames. They sat quietly, huddled in the light, surrounded by darkness.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In the morning, she woke before he did. She followed the dribble of water downstream, until she found a place where it formed something larger than a puddle but small er than a pool. There she bathed as well as she could. She shivered, but she didn’t mind the coldness of air and water; it woke her completely. When she tried to untie her hair and untangle it she met with the usual frustration. She yanked and tugged, but her fingers could not find a way through the knots. She tied it back up. She dried herself as best she could, and dressed. When she walked back into the clearing, he was awake, tying his bags together.

“Would you cut my hair off, if I asked you?”

He looked up, eyebrows raised. “You’re not thinking of trying to disguise yourself?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that it drives me mad, and I’ve never wanted it, and I’d be so much more comfortable if I could have it all off.”

“Hmm.” He examined the great knot gathered at the nape of her neck. “It is rather wound together, like a bird’s nest,” he said, and at her glare, he laughed. “If you truly wanted me to, I could cut it off, but I don’t imagine you’d be particularly pleased with the result. Why don’t you wait until we’ve reached the inn and have the innkeeper’s wife do it, or one of the women in town?”

Katsa sighed. “Very well . I can live with it for one more day.”

Po disappeared down the path from which she’d come. She rolled up her blanket and began to carry their belongings to the horses.

———

The road grew narrower as they continued south, and the forest grew thicker and darker. Po led, despite Katsa’s protests. He insisted that when she set the pace, they always started out reasonably, but without fail, before long they were racing along at breakneck speed. He was taking it upon himself to protect Katsa’s horse from its rider.

“You say you’re thinking of the horse,” Katsa said, when they stopped once to water the horses at a stream that crossed the road. “But I think it’s just that you can’t keep up with me.”

He laughed at that. “You’re trying to bait me, and it won’t work.”

“By the way,” Katsa said, “it occurs to me that we haven’t practiced our fighting since I uncovered your deception and you agreed to stop lying to me.”

“No, nor since you punched me in the jaw because you were angry with Randa.”

She couldn’t hold back her smile. “Fine,” she said. “You’l lead. But what about our practices? Don’t you want to continue them?”

“Of course,” he said. “Tonight, perhaps, if it’s stilllight when we stop.”

They rode quietly. Katsa’s mind wandered; and she found that when it wandered to anything to do with Po, she would check herself and proceed carefully. If she must think of him, then it would be nothing significant. He would gain nothing from his intrusions into her mind as they rode along this quiet forest path.

It occurred to her how susceptible he must be to intrusions. What if he were working out some complicated problem in his mind, concentrating very hard, and a great crowd of people approached? Or even a single person, who saw him and thought his eyes strange or admired his rings or wanted to buy his horse. Did he lose his concentration when other people filtered into his mind? How aggravating that would be.

And then she wondered: Could she get his attention, without saying a word? If she needed his help or wanted to stop, could she cal to him in his mind? It must be possible; if a person within his range wanted to communicate with him, he must know it.

She looked at him, riding before her, his back straight and his arms steady; his white shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, as always. She looked at the trees then, and at her horse’s ears, and at the ground before her. She cleared her mind of anything to do with Po. I’ll hunt down a goose for dinner, she thought. The leaves on these trees are just beginning to change color. The weather is so lovely and cool.

And then, with all her might, she focused her attention on the back of Po’s head and screamed his name, inside her mind. He pulled on his reins so hard that his horse screeched and staggered and almost sat down. Her own horse nearly col ided with his. And he looked so startled and flabbergasted – and irritated – that she couldn’t help it: She exploded with laughter.

“What in the name of Lienid is wrong with you? Are you trying to scare me out of my wits? Is it not enough to ruin your own horse, but you must ruin mine as well ?”

She knew he was angry, but she couldn’t stop laughing. “Forgive me, Po. I was only trying to get your attention.”

“And I suppose it never occurs to you to start small. If I told you my roof needed rebuilding, you’d start by knocking down the house.”

“Oh, Po,” she said, “don’t be angry.” She stifled the laugh that rose into her throat. “Truly, Po, I had no idea it would startle you like that. I didn’t think I could startle you. I didn’t think your Grace all owed it.”

She coughed, and forced her face into a mask of penitence, which wouldn’t have fooled even the most incompetent of mind readers. But she hadn’t meant it, truly she hadn’t, and he must know that. And finally his hard mouth softened, and a flicker of a smile played across his face.

“Look at me,” he said, unnecessarily, for the smile had already trapped her. “Now, say my name, in your mind, as if you wanted to get my attention – quietly. As quietly as you would if you were speaking it aloud.”

She waited a moment, and then she thought it. Po.

He nodded. “That’s all it takes.”

“Wel . That was easy.”

“And you’l notice it caused no abuse to the horse.”

“Very funny. Can we practice, while we’re riding?”

And for the rest of the day she cal ed to him on occasion, in her mind. Every time, he raised his hand, to show that he’d heard. Even when she whispered. So then she decided to stop cal ing to him, for it was clear that it worked, and she didn’t want to badger him. He looked back at her then and nodded, and she knew that he had understood her. And she rode behind him with her eyes wide and tried to make some sense of their having had an entire conversation, of sorts, without saying a word.

———

They made camp beside a pond, surrounded by great Sunderan trees. As they unhooked their bags from the horses, Katsa was sure she saw a goose through the reeds, waddling around on the opposite shore. Po squinted.

“It does appear to be a goose,” he said, “and I wouldn’t mind a drumstick for dinner.”

So Katsa set out, approaching the creature quietly. It didn’t notice her. She decided to walk right up to it and break its neck, as the kitchen women did in the chicken houses of the castle. But as she snuck forward, the goose heard her and began to squawk and run for the water. She ran after the bird, and it spread its massive wings and took to the air.

She leaped and wrapped her arms around its middle. She brought it down, straight into the pond, surprised by its size.

And now she was wrestling in the water with an enormous, flapping, biting, splashing, kicking goose – but only for a moment. For her hands were around its neck, and its neck was snapped, before it could close its sharp beak around any part of her body.

She turned to the shore then, and was surprised to find Po standing there, gaping. She stood in the pond, the water streaming from her hair and clothing, and held the huge bird up by the neck for him to see. “I got it,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment, his chest rising and fal ing, for he had run, apparently, at the sight of the underwater struggle. He rubbed his temples. “Katsa. What in Lienid are you doing?”