On the far side they found little more than rock and scrub and a few scraggly trees growing from crevices. A shallow, hard cave with its back to the gully and the cliff path seemed the best choice for their camp. “It won’t make for a soft bed,” Po said, “but it’ll hide our fire. Are you hungry, cousin?”

The girl sat on a rock, quietly, her hands gripping her knife. She hadn’t complained of hunger, or of anything else, for that matter. But now she watched with big eyes as Po unwrapped what little food they had, some meat from the night before, and one small apple carried all the way from the inn at the Sunderan foot of the mountains. Bitterblue’s eyes watched the food, and she barely seemed to be breathing. She was ravenous, anyone could see that.

“When did you last eat?” Po asked, as he set the food before her.

“Some berries, this morning.”

“And before that?”

“Yesterday. Yesterday morning.”

“Slowly,” Po said, as Bitterblue took the meat in her hands and tore a great piece off with her teeth. “Slowly, or you’ll be sick.”

“I’ll climb down to the gully and find us some meat,” Katsa said. “The sun will set soon. I’ll take a knife, Po, if you’ll keep a lookout for me.”

Po slid a knife from his boot and tossed it to her. “If you hear the sound of an owl hooting, run. Two hoots, run south. Three hoots, run back up here to the camp.”

She nodded. “Agreed.”

“Try the rushes to the south of the lake,” he said. “And pick up a few pebbles on your way down. I think I may have seen some quail.”

Katsa snorted but said nothing. She glanced at the girl, who saw only the food in her hands. Then she turned, worked her way around boulders, and began to forge a path down into the gully.

WHEN KATSA returned to camp with a stringful of quail, plucked and gutted, the sun was sinking behind the mountains. Po was piling branches near the back of the cave. Bitterblue lay nearby, wrapped in a blanket.

“I gather she hasn’t slept much in the last few days,” Po said.

“She’ll be all right now that her clothes are dry. We’ll keep her warm and fed.”

“She’s a calm little thing, isn’t she? Small for ten years old. She helped me gather wood, until she was practically collapsing from exhaustion. I told her to sleep until we had more food. She’s got her fingers wrapped around that knife. And she’s still scared of me—I get the feeling she’s not used to men showing her kindness.”

“Po, I’m beginning to think I don’t want to know what this is all about. I can make no sense of it. I can’t factor your grandfather into it at all.”

Po shook his head and looked at the girl, who was huddled on the ground in her blankets and coats. “I’m not sure how much any of this has to do with sanity or sense. But we’ll keep her safe, and we’ll kill Leck. And eventually we’ll learn whatever truth there is to know of it.”