"Has he said anything?" Katsa asked.

"Nothing," said Raffin, "other than that they blindfolded him when they took him. He's still very weak. He doesn't seem to remember much."

"Do you know who took him?" Po said. "Was Murgon responsible?"

"We don't think so," Katsa said, "but all we know for sure is that it wasn't Randa."

The stairs ended at a doorway. Raffin fiddled with a key. "Linda doesn't know he's here," Po said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Randa doesn't know," Katsa said. "He must never know."

Raffin opened the door then, and they crowded into the tiny room. Bann sat in a chair beside a narrow bed, reading in the dim light of a lamp on the table beside him. Prince Tealiff lay on his back in the bed, his eyes closed and his hands clasped over his chest.

Upon their entrance, Bann stood. He seemed unsurprised as Po rushed forward; he only stepped aside and offered his chair. Po sat and leaned toward his grandfather, looked into his sleeping face. Simply looked at him, and did not touch him. Then Po took the man's hands and bent his forehead to them, exhaling slowly.

Katsa felt as if she were intruding on something private. She dropped her eyes until Po sat up again.

"Your face is turning purple, Prince Greening," Raffin said. "You're on your way to a very black eye."

"Po," he said. "Call me Po."

"Po. I'll get you some ice from the vault. Come, Bann, let's get some supplies for our two warriors."

Raffin and Bann slipped through the doorway. And when Katsa and Po turned back to Tealiff, the old man's eyes were open.

"Grandfather," Po said.

"Po?" His voice rasped with the effort of speaking. "Po." He struggled to clear his throat and then lay still for a moment, exhausted. "Great seas, boy. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you."

"I've been tracking you down, Grandfather," Po said.

"Move that lamp closer, boy," Tealiff said. "What in the name of Lienid have you done to your face?"

"It's nothing, Grandfather. I've only been fighting."

"With what, a pack of wolves?"

"With the Lady Katsa," Po said. He cocked his head at Katsa, who stood at the foot of the bed. "Don't worry, Grandfather. It was only a friendly scuffle."

Tealiff snorted. "A friendly scuffle. You look worse than she does, Po."

Po burst into laughter. He laughed a lot, this Lienid prince. "I've met my match, Grandfather."

"More than your match," Tealiff said, "it looks to me. Come here, child," he said to Katsa. "Come to the light."

Katsa approached the other side of the bed and knelt beside him. Tealiff turned to her, and she became suddenly conscious of her dirty, bloody face, her tangled hair. How dreadful she must look to this old man.

"My dear," he said. "I believe you saved my life."

"Lord Prince," Katsa said, "if anyone did that, it was my cousin Raffin with his medicines."

"Yes, Raffin's a good boy," he said. He patted her hand. "But I know what you did, you and the others. You've saved my life, though I can't think why. I doubt any Lienid has ever done you a kindness."

"I'd never met a Lienid," Katsa said, "before you, Lord Prince. But you seem very kind."

Tealiff closed his eyes. He seemed to sink into his pillows. His breath was a drawn-out sigh.

"He falls asleep like that," Raffin said from the doorway. "His strength will come back, with rest." He carried something wrapped in a cloth, which he handed to Po. "Ice. Hold it to that eye. It looks like she's cracked your lip, too. Where else does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," Po said. "I feel as if I've been run over by a team of horses."

"Honestly, Katsa," Raffin said. "Were you trying to kill him?"

"If I'd been trying to kill him, he'd be dead," Katsa said, and Po laughed again. "He wouldn't be laughing," she added, "if it were that bad."

It wasn't that bad; or at least Raffin was able to determine that none of his bones were broken and that he'd sustained no bruises that wouldn't heal. Then Raffin turned to Katsa. He examined the scratch that stretched across her jaw, and wiped dirt and blood from her face.

"It's not very deep, this scratch," he said. "Any other pains?"

"None," she said. "I don't even feel the scratch."

"I suppose you'll have to retire this dress," he said. "Helda will give you a terrible scolding."

"Yes, I'm devastated about the dress."

Raffin smiled. He took hold of her arms and held her out from him so that he could look her up and down. He laughed.

"What can be so funny," Katsa said, "to a prince who's turned his hair blue?"

"You look like you've been in a fight," he said, "for the first time in your life."

Katsa had five rooms. Her sleeping room, decorated with dark draperies and wall hangings that Helda had chosen because Katsa had refused to form an opinion on the matter. Her bathing room, white marble, large and cold, functional. Her dining room, with windows looking onto the courtyard, and a small table where she ate, sometimes with Raffin or Helda, or with Giddon when he wasn't driving her to distraction. Her sitting room, full of soft chairs and pillows that Helda, again, had chosen. She didn't use the sitting room.

The fifth room used to be her workroom, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd embroidered or crocheted, or darned a stocking. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn a stocking, truth be told. She'd turned the room into a place for the storage of her weapons: swords, daggers, knives, bows, and staffs lined the walls. She'd fitted the room with a solid, square table, and now the Council meetings were held there.

Katsa bathed for the second time that day and knotted her wet hair behind her head. She fed her dress to the sleeping-room fire and watched its smoky demise with great satisfaction. A boy arrived who was to keep watch during the Council meeting. Katsa went into the weapons room and lit the torches that hung on the walls between her knives and bows.

Raffin and Po were the first to arrive. Po's hair was damp from his own bath. The skin had blackened around his eye, the gold eye, and made his gaze even more rakish and uneven than it had been before. He slouched against the table with his hands in his pockets. His eyes flashed around the room, taking in Katsa's collection of weapons. Po was wearing a new shirt, open at the neck and with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His forearms were as sun darkened as his face. She didn't know why she should notice. She found herself frowning.

"Sit, Your High Majestic Lord Princes," she said. She yanked a chair from the table and sat down herself.

"You're in fine temper," Raffin said.

"Your hair is blue," Katsa snapped back.

Oll strode into the room. At the sight of the scratch on Katsa's face, his mouth dropped open. He turned to Po and saw the black eye. He turned back to Katsa. He began to chuckle. He slapped his hand on the table, and the chuckle turned into a roar. "How I would love to have seen that fight, My Lady. Oh, how I would love to have seen it."

Po was smiling. "The lady won, which I doubt will surprise you."

Katsa glowered. "It was a draw. No one won."

"I say." It was Giddon's voice, and as he entered the room and looked from Katsa to Po, his eyes grew dark. He put his hand to his sword. He whirled on Po. "I don't see where you come off fighting the Lady Katsa."

"Giddon," said Katsa. "Don't be ridiculous."

Giddon turned to her. "He had no right to attack you."

"I struck the first blow, Giddon. Sit down."

"If you struck the first blow then he must have insulted you – "

Katsa jumped up from her seat. "That's enough, Giddon – if you think I need you to defend me – "

"A guest to this court, a total stranger – "

"Giddon – "