“They’re small-minded,” Katsa said.

“Very small-minded, but they’ve helped us, nonetheless. It’s Leck, Katsa, I’m sure of it. The man lied when he said Leck was not responsible. And yet—and yet there was something else very strange that I could make no sense of.” He shook his head and stared into his hands, thinking. “It’s so odd, Katsa. I felt this strange . . . defensiveness rise in them.”

“What do you mean, defensiveness?”

“As if they all truly believed Leck’s innocence and wished to defend him to me.”

“But you just said Leck is guilty.”

“He is guilty, and these men know it. But they also believe him innocent.”

“That makes utterly no sense.”

He shook his head again. “I know. But I’m sure of what I sensed. I tell you, Katsa, when the man said that Leck was not responsible for the kidnapping, he was lying. But when he said, a moment later, ‘Leck is blameless,’ he meant it. He believed himself to be telling the truth.” Po gazed up at the dark ceiling. “Are we supposed to conclude that Leck kidnapped my grandfather, but for some innocent reason? It simply cannot be.”

Katsa couldn’t comprehend the things Po had learned, any more than she could comprehend the manner in which he’d learned them. “None of this makes sense,” she said, weakly.

He came down out of his thoughts for a moment and focused on her. “Katsa. I’m sorry. This must be overwhelming to you. I’m capable of sensing quite a lot, you see, from people who want to fool me but don’t know to guard their thoughts and feelings.”

She couldn’t understand it. She gave up trying to make sense of the king who was both guilty and innocent. She watched Po as he became distracted by his thoughts again and stared again into his hands. The merchants hadn’t known to guard their thoughts and feelings. If it was a thing that could be done, then she, at least, wanted to learn how to do it.

She felt his eyes and realized he was watching her. “You do keep some things from me,” he said.

She started, then focused on blankness for a moment.

“Or you have,” he continued, “since you’ve learned of my Grace. I mean, I’ve felt you keeping things from me—you’re doing it now—and I can tell you it works, because my Grace shows me nothing. I’m always a bit relieved when it works, Katsa. Truly, I don’t wish to take your secrets from you.” He sat up straight, his face lit with an idea. “You know, you could always knock me unconscious. I wouldn’t stop you.”

Katsa laughed then. “I wouldn’t. I’ve promised you I won’t hit you, except in our practices.”

“But it’s self-defense, in this case.”

It is not.

“It is,” he insisted, and she laughed again at his earnestness.

“I’d rather strengthen my mind against you,” she said, “than knock you out every time I have a thought I don’t want you to know.”