His voice was a grin, and she laughed into his face. But then he took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes, seriously. “Katsa. When we get closer to Leck, you must do whatever I tell you to. Do you promise?”

I promise.

“You must, Katsa. You must swear it.”

“Po. I’ve promised it before, and I’ll promise it again, and swear it, too. I’ll do what you say.”

He watched her eyes, and then he nodded. He emptied the last few berries into her hand and bent down to his boots.

“My toes are such a misery, I’m not sure it’s wise to release them. They may revolt and run off into the mountains and refuse to return.”

She ate another winterberry. “I expect I’m more than a match for your toes.”

THE NEXT DAY there were no more jokes from Po, about his toes or anything else. He hardly spoke, and the farther they moved down the path that led to King Leck, the more anxious he seemed to become. His mood was contagious. Katsa was uneasy.

“You’ll do what I say, when the time comes?” he asked her once.

She opened her mouth to give voice to a surge of irritation at the question she’d already answered and must now answer again. But at the sight of him trudging down the path beside her, tense and worried, she lost hold of her anger.

“I’ll do what you say, Po.”

Chapter Twenty-three

“KATSA.”

His voice woke her. She opened her eyes and knew it to be about three hours before dawn. “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

She sat up. “Too worried?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I assume you didn’t wake me just for my company.”

“You don’t need the sleep; and if I’m going to be awake we may as well be moving.”

And she was up, and her blanket rolled, and her quiver and bow and bags on her back in an instant. A path, sloping downhill, ran through the trees. The forest was black. Po took her arm and led her as best he could, stumbling over stones and resting his hand on trees she couldn’t see to steady their passage.

When a cold, gritty light finally brought shadow and shape to their path, they moved faster, practically ran. Snow began to fall, and the trail, wider and flatter, glowed a pale blue. The inn that would sell them horses was beyond the forest, hours away by foot. As they hurried on, Katsa found herself looking forward to the rest for her feet and her lungs that the horses would bring. She opened the thought to Po.

“It takes this,” he said, “to tire you. Running, in the dark, on no sleep, and no food, after days of climbing in the mountains.” He didn’t smile, and he wasn’t teasing. “I’m glad. Whatever it is we’re running toward, we’re likely to need your energy, and your stamina.”