In Estill, as in most of the kingdoms, Gracelings were given up to the king’s use by law. The child whose eyes settled into two different colors weeks, months, or on the rarest occasions years after its birth was sent to the court of its king and raised in its king’s nurseries. If its Grace turned out to be useful to the king, the child would remain in his service. If not, the child would be sent home. With the court’s apologies, of course, because it was difficult for a family to find use for a Graceling. Especially one with a useless Grace, like climbing trees or holding one’s breath for an impossibly long time or talking backward. The child might fare well in a farmer’s family, working among the fields with no one to see or know. But if a king sent a Graceling home to the family of an innkeeper or a storekeeper in a town with more than one inn or store to choose from, business was bound to suffer. It made no difference what the child’s Grace was. People avoided a place if they could, if they were likely to encounter a person with eyes that were two different colors.
“Thigpen’s a fool not to keep a mind reader close,” Giddon said, “just because she’s not useful yet. They’re too dangerous. What if she falls under someone else’s influence?”
Giddon was right, of course. Whatever else the mind readers might be, they were almost always valuable tools for a king to wield. But Katsa couldn’t understand why anyone would want to keep them close. Randa’s chef was Graced, and his horse handler, and his winemaker, and one of his court dancers. He had a juggler who could juggle any number of items without dropping them. He had several soldiers, no match for Katsa, but Graced with sword fighting. He had a man who predicted the quality of the next year’s harvest. He had a woman brilliant with numbers, the only woman working in a king’s countinghouse in all seven kingdoms.
He also had a man who could tell your mood just by putting his hands on you. He was the only Graceling of Randa’s who repelled Katsa, the only person in court besides Randa himself whom she took pains to avoid.
“Foolish behavior on the part of Thigpen is never particularly surprising, My Lord,” Oll said.
“What kind of mind reader is she?” Katsa asked. “They’re not sure, My Lady. She’s so unformed. And you know how the mind readers are, their Graces always changing, and so hard to pin down. Adults before they’ve grown into their full power. But it seems as if this one reads desires. She knows what it is other people want.”
“Then she’ll know I’ll want to knock her senseless if she so much as looks at me.” Katsa spoke the words into the mane of her horse. They were not for the ears of her companions, for them to pull apart and make a joke of “Is there anything else I need to know about this borderlord?” she asked aloud as she stepped into her stirrup. “Perhaps he has a guard of a hundred Graced fighters? A trained bear to protect him? Anything else you’ve forgotten to mention?”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic, My Lady,” Oll said.
“Your company this morning is as pleasant as always, Katsa,” Giddon said.
Katsa spurred her horse forward. She didn’t want to see Giddon’s laughing face.
———
The lord’s holding stood behind gray stone walls at the crest of a hill of waving grasses. The man who ushered them through the gate and took their horses told them that his lord sat at his breakfast. Katsa, Giddon, and Oll stepped directly into the great hall without waiting for an escort.
The lord’s courtier moved forward to block their entrance into the breakfast room. Then he saw Katsa. He cleared his throat and opened the grand doors. “Some representatives from the court of King Randa, My Lord,” he said. He slipped behind them without waiting for a response from his master and scampered away.
The lord sat before a feast of pork, eggs, bread, fruit, and cheese, with a servant at his elbow. Both men looked up as they entered, and both men froze. A spoon clattered from the lord’s hand onto the table.
“Good morning, My Lord,” Giddon said. “We apologize for interrupting your breakfast. Do you know why we’re here?”
The lord seemed to struggle to find his voice. “I haven’t the slightest idea,” he said, his hand at his throat.
“No? Perhaps the Lady Katsa could help you bring it to mind,” Giddon said. “Lady?”
Katsa stepped forward.
“All right, all right.” The lord stood. His legs jarred the table, and a glass overturned. He was tall and broad shouldered, larger even than Giddon or Oll. Clumsy now with his fluttering hands, and his eyes that flitted around the room but always avoided Katsa. A bit of egg clung to his beard. So foolish, such a big man, so frightened. Katsa kept her face expressionless, so that none of them would know how much she hated this.
“Ah, you’ve remembered,” Giddon said, “have you? You’ve remembered why we’re here?”
“I believe I owe you money,” the lord said. “I imagine you’ve come to collect your debt.”
“Very good!” Giddon spoke as if to a child. “And why do you owe us money? The agreement was for how many acres of lumber? Remind me, Captain.”
“Twenty acres, My Lord,” Oll said.
“And how many acres did the lord remove, Captain?”
“Twenty-three acres, My Lord,” Oll said.
“Twenty-three acres!” Giddon said. “That’s rather a hefty difference, wouldn’t you agree?”
“A terrible mistake.” The lord’s attempt at a smile was pained. “We never realized we’d need so much. Of course, I’ll pay you immediately. Just name your price.”
“You’ve caused King Randa no small inconvenience,” Giddon said. “You’ve decimated three acres of his forest. The king’s forests are not limitless.”
“No. Of course not. Terrible mistake.”
“We’ve also had to travel for days to settle this matter,” Giddon said. “Our absence from court is a great nuisance to the king.”
“Of course,” the lord said. “Of course.”
“I imagine if you doubled your original payment, it would lessen the strain of inconvenience for the king.”
The lord licked his lips. “Double the original payment. Yes. That seems quite reasonable.”
Giddon smiled. “Very good. Perhaps your man will lead us to your countinghouse.”
“Certainly.” The lord gestured to the servant at his side. “Quickly, man. Quickly!”
“Lady Katsa,” Giddon said as he and Oll turned toward the door, “why don’t you stay here? Keep His Lordship company.” The servant led Giddon and Oll from the room. The big doors swung shut behind them. Katsa and the lord were alone. She stared at him. His breath was shallow, his face pale. He didn’t look at her. He seemed as if he were about to collapse.
“Sit down,” Katsa said. He fell into his chair and let out a small moan.
“Look at me,” she said. His eyes flicked to her face, and then slid to her hands. Randa’s victims always watched her hands, never her face. They couldn’t hold her eyes. And they expected a blow from her hands.
Katsa sighed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out but a croak.
“I can’t hear you,” Katsa said.
He cleared his throat. “I have a family. I have a family to care for. Do what you will, but I beg you not to kill me.”
“You don’t want me to kill you, for the sake of your family?”
A tear ran into his beard. “And for my own sake. I don’t want to die.”
Of course he didn’t want to die, for three acres of wood. “I don’t kill men who steal three acres of lumber from the king,” she said, “and then pay for it dearly in gold. It’s more the sort of crime that warrants a broken arm or the removal of a finger.”
She moved toward him and pulled her dagger from its sheath. He breathed heavily, staring at the eggs and fruit on his plate. She wondered if he would vomit or begin to sob. But then he moved his plate to the side, and his overturned glass and his silver. He stretched his arms onto the table before him. He bent his head, and waited.
A wave of tiredness swept over her. It was easier to follow Randa’s orders when they begged or cried, when they gave her nothing to respect. And Randa didn’t care about his forests; he only cared about the money and the power.
Besides, the forests would grow back one day. Fingers didn’t grow back.
She slipped her dagger back into its sheath. It would be his arm, then, or his leg, or perhaps his collarbone, always a painful bone to break. But her own arms were as heavy as iron, and her legs didn’t seem to want to propel her forward.
The lord drew one shaky breath, but he didn’t move or speak. He was a liar and a thief and a fool.
Somehow she could not get herself to care.
Katsa sighed sharply. “I grant that you’re brave,” she said, “though you didn’t seem it at first.” She sprang to the table and struck him on the temple, just as she’d done with Murgon’s guards. He slumped, and fell from his chair.
She turned and went to wait in his great stone hall for Giddon and Oll to return with the money.