“We’ve been receiving visitors throughout the night,” Po said, an easy lie. “You’re not the only travelers at the inn who have information about my grandfather.”

“Be careful of the others, Lord Prince,” said the biggest merchant. “Men will lie for money.”

Po raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for your warning.” He slouched against the table behind him and put his hands in his pockets. Katsa swallowed her smile. She rather enjoyed Po’s cocky laziness.

“What information do you have for us?” Po asked.

“How much will you pay?” the man said.

“I’ll pay whatever the information warrants.”

“There are six of us,” the man said.

“I’ll give it to you in coins divisible by six,” Po said, “if that’s what you wish.”

“I meant, Lord Prince, that it’s not worth our time to divulge information if you’ll not compensate us enough for six men.”

Po chose that moment to yawn. When he spoke, his voice was calm, even friendly. “I won’t haggle over a price when I don’t know the breadth of your information. You’ll be fairly compensated. If that doesn’t satisfy you, you’re free to leave.”

The man rocked on his feet for a moment. He glanced sideways at his partner. His partner nodded, and the man cleared his throat.

“Very well,” he said. “We have information that links the kidnapping to King Birn of Wester.”

“How interesting,” Po said, and the farce had begun. Po asked all the questions one would ask if one were conducting this interrogation seriously. What was the source of their information? Was the man trustworthy who had spoken of Birn? What was the motivation for the kidnapping? Had Birn the assistance of any other kingdoms? Was Grandfather Tealiff in Birn’s dungeons? How were Birn’s dungeons guarded?

“Well, Lady,” Po said, with a glance in her direction, “we’ll have to send word quickly, so that my brothers know to investigate the dungeons of Birn of Wester.”

“You won’t travel there yourselves?” The man was surprised. And disappointed, most likely, that he hadn’t managed to send Po and Katsa on a futile mission.

“We go south, and east,” Po said. “To Monsea, and King Leck.”

“Leck was not responsible for the kidnapping,” the man said.

“I never said he was.”

“Leck is blameless. You waste your energies searching Monsea, when your grandfather is in Wester.”

Po yawned again. He shifted his weight against the table and crossed his arms. He looked back at the man blandly. “We don’t go to Monsea in search of my grandfather,” he said. “It is a social visit. My father’s sister is the Queen of Monsea. She’s been most distressed by the kidnapping. We mean to call on her. Perhaps we can bring the comfort of your news to the Monsean court.”

One of the merchants in the background cleared his throat. “A lot of sickness there,” he said from his corner. “At the Monsean court.”

Po’s eyes moved to the man calmly. “Is that so?”

The man grunted. “I’ve family in Leck’s service, distant family. Two little girls who worked in his shelter, cousins of some kind—well, they died a few months back.”