THE TREES gave way suddenly, and the mountains came upon them all at once; and with the mountains, the town that would take their horses. The buildings were made of stone or of heavy Sunderan wood, but it was the town’s backdrop that stopped Katsa’s breath. She’d seen the hills of Estill, but she’d never seen mountains. She’d never seen silver trees that climbed straight up into the sky, and rock and snow that climbed even higher, to peaks impossibly high that shone gold in the sun.

“It reminds me of home,” Po said.

“Lienid is like this?”

“Parts of Lienid. My father’s city stands near mountains like these.”

“Well,” Katsa said. “It reminds me of nothing, for I’ve never seen anything like it. I almost can’t believe I’m seeing it now.”

There was no camping and no hunting for them that night. Their meal was cooked for them and served by the rough, friendly wife of the innkeeper, who seemed unconcerned with their Graceling eyes and wanted to know everything they’d seen on their journey, and everyone they’d passed. They ate in a room warm from the fire in a great stone fireplace. Hot stew, hot vegetables, hot bread, and the entire eating room to themselves. Chairs to sit on, and a table, and plates and spoons. Their baths afterwards warm; their bed warm, and softer than Katsa had remembered a bed could be. It was luxury, and they enjoyed it, for they knew it was the last such comfort they were likely to experience for some time.

THEY LEFT before sunlight broke over the peaks, with provisions wrapped by the innkeeper’s wife, and cold water from the inn’s well. They carried most of their belongings, all that they had not left behind with the horses. One bow and one quiver, on Katsa’s back, as she was the better shot. Neither of their swords, though both carried dagger and knife. Their bedrolls, little clothing, coins, the medicines, the maps, the list of Council contacts.

The sky they climbed toward turned purple, then orange and pink. The mountain path bore the signs of the crossings of others—fires gone cold, boot impressions in the dirt. In some places huts had been built for the use of travelers, empty of furniture but with crude, functional fireplaces. Built by the combined efforts of Sunder, Estill, and Monsea, in a time long ago when the kingdoms worked together for the safe passage of travelers across their borders.

“A roof and four walls can save you, in a blizzard in the mountains,” Po said.

“Were you ever caught in the mountains during a blizzard?”

“I was once, with my brother Silvern. We were out climbing, and a storm surprised us. We found the hut of a woodsman—if we hadn’t, we’d likely be dead. We were trapped for four days. For four days we ate nothing but the bread and apples we’d brought along, and the snow. Our mother almost gave us up for lost.”

“Which brother is Silvern?”