“What is it like to have six older brothers?”

“I don’t think it was for me what it would be for most others,” he said. “Hand fighting is revered in Lienid. My brothers are great fighters, and of course I was able to hold my own with them, even though I was small—and eventually surpass them, every one of them. They treated me like an equal, like more than an equal.”

“And were they also your friends?”

“Oh yes, especially the younger ones.”

Perhaps it was easier, then, to be a Graceling fighter if one was a boy or in a kingdom that revered hand fighting; or perhaps Po’s Grace had announced itself less drastically than Katsa’s had. Perhaps if Katsa had six older brothers, she would also have six friends.

Or maybe everything was different in Lienid.

“I’ve heard the Lienid castles are built on mountain peaks so high that people have to be lifted up to them by ropes,” she said.

Po grinned. “Only my father’s city has the ropes.” He poured himself more water and turned back to the food on his plate.

“Well?” Katsa said. “Are you going to explain them to me?”

“Katsa. Is it too much for you to understand that a man might be hungry after you’ve beaten him half to death? I’m beginning to think it’s part of your fighting strategy, keeping me from eating. You want me weak and faint.”

“For someone who’s Lienid’s finest fighter,” she said, “you have a delicate constitution.”

He laughed and put his fork down. “All right, all right. How can I describe this?” He picked his fork up again and used it to draw a picture in the air as he spoke. “My father’s city sits at the top of this enormous, tall rock, tall as a mountain, that rises straight up from the plains below. There are three ways up to the city. One is a road built into the sides of the rock, that winds around and around it, slowly. The second is a stairway built into one side of the rock. It bends back and forth on itself until it reaches the top. It’s a good approach, if you’re strong and wide awake and don’t have a horse, though most who choose that route eventually tire and end up begging a ride from someone on the road. My brothers and I race it sometimes.”

“Who wins?”

“Where’s your confidence in me, that you need to ask that question? You would beat us all, of course.”

“My ability to fight has no bearing on my ability to run up a flight of stairs.”

“Nonetheless, I can’t imagine you allowing anyone to beat you at anything.”

Katsa snorted. “And the third way?”

“The third way is the ropes.”

“But how do they work?”

Po scratched his head. “Well, it’s fairly simple, really. They hang from a great wheel that sits flat, on its side, at the top of the rock. They dangle down over the edge of the rock, and at the bottom they’re attached to platforms. Horses turn the wheel, the wheel pulls the ropes, and the platforms rise.”