“You have the list of Council contacts in Sunder?” Raffin asked. “And the maps? You have food for the day? You have money?”

Katsa smiled up at him then, for he sounded as she imagined a mother would sound if her child were leaving forever. “Po’s a prince of Lienid,” she said. “Why do you think he rides such a big horse, if not to carry his bags of gold?”

Raffin’s eyes laughed down at her. “Take this.” He closed her hands over a small satchel. “It’s a bag of medicines, in case you should need them. I’ve marked them so you’ll know what each is for.”

Po came forward then and held his hand out to Bann. “Thank you for all you’ve done.” He took Raffin’s hand. “You’ll take care of my grandfather in my absence?”

“He’ll be safe with us,” Raffin said.

Po swung onto the back of his horse, and Katsa took Bann’s hands and squeezed them. And then she stood before Raffin and looked up into his face.

“Well,” Raffin said. “You’ll let us know how you’re faring, when you’re able?”

“Of course,” Katsa said.

He looked at his feet and cleared his throat. He rubbed his neck, and sighed. How she wished again that he weren’t here. For the tears would spill onto her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop them.

“Well,” Raffin said. “And I’ll see you again someday, my love.”

She reached up for him then and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her up off the ground and hugged her tight. She breathed into the collar of his shirt and held on.

And then her feet were on the ground again. She turned away and climbed into her saddle. “We leave now,” she said to Po. As their horses cantered out of the stable yard, she didn’t look back.

THEIR ROUTE was rough and changeable, for their only certain plan was to follow whatever path seemed likely to bring them closer to the truth of the kidnapping. Their first destination was an inn, south of Murgon City, three days’ ride from Randa City—an inn sitting along the route which they supposed the kidnappers had taken. Murgon’s spies frequented the inn, as did merchants and travelers from the port cities of Sunder, often even from Monsea. It was as good a place to start as any, Po thought, and it didn’t take them out of their way, if their ultimate destination was Monsea.

They didn’t travel anonymously. Katsa’s eyes identified her to anyone in the seven kingdoms who had ears to hear the stories. Po was conspicuously a Lienid and enough the subject of idle talk to be recognized by virtue of his own eyes and by the Graceling company he kept. The story of Katsa’s hasty departure from Randa’s court with the Lienid prince would spread. Any attempt to disguise themselves would be foolish; Katsa didn’t even bother to change from the blue tunic and trousers that marked her as a member of Randa’s family. Their purpose would be assumed, for it was well enough agreed that the Graceling Lienid searched for his missing grandfather, and it would now be supposed that the Graceling lady assisted him. Their inquiries, the route they chose, the very dinners they ate would be the stuff of gossip.