Graceling (Graceling Realm #1)(9)

“King Thigpen has sent her home to her father.”

Katsa yanked hard on the straps that attached her bag to her saddle.

“Are you trying to pull the horse down, Katsa,” Giddon said, “or just break your saddlebag?”

Katsa scowled. “No one told me we’d be encountering a mind reader.”

“I’m telling you now, My Lady,” Oll said, “and there’s no reason for concern. She’s a child. Most of what she comes up with is nonsense.”

“Well, what’s wrong with her?”

“What’s wrong with her is that most of what she comes up with is nonsense. Or useless, irrelevant, and she blurts out everything she sees. She’s out of control. She was making Thigpen nervous. So he sent her home, My Lady, and told her father to send her back when she became useful.”

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.