The lord drew one shaky breath, but he didn't move or speak. He was a liar and a thief and a fool.
Somehow she could not get herself to care.
Katsa sighed sharply. "I grant that you're brave," she said, "though you didn't seem it at first." She sprang to the table and struck him on the temple, just as she'd done with Murgon's guards. He slumped, and fell from his chair.
She turned and went to wait in his great stone hall for Giddon and Oll to return with the money.
He would wake with a headache, but no more. If Randa heard what she had done, he'd be furious.
But perhaps Randa wouldn't hear. Or perhaps she could accuse the lord of lying, to save face.
In which case, Randa would insist she return with proof in the future. A collection of shriveled fingers and toes. What that would do for her reputation...
It didn't matter. She didn't have the strength today to torture a person who didn't deserve it.
A small figure came tripping into the hall then. Katsa knew who she was even before she saw the girl's eyes, one yellow as the squash that grew in the north, and one brown as a patch of mud. This girl she would hurt; this girl she would torture if it would stop her from taking Katsa's thoughts.
Katsa caught the child's eyes and stared her down. The girl gasped and backed up a few steps, then turned and ran from the hall.
CHAPTER FIVE
They made good time, though Katsa chafed at their pace. "Katsa feels that to ride a horse at anything but breakneck speed is a waste of the horse," Giddon said.
"I only want to know if Raffin has learned anything from the Lienid grandfather."
"Don't worry, My Lady," Oll said. "We'll reach the court by evening tomorrow, as long as the weather holds."
The weather held through the day and into the night, but sometime before dawn, clouds blotted out the stars above their camp. In the morning they broke camp quickly and set out with some trepidation. Shortly thereafter, as they rode into the yard of the inn that kept their horses, raindrops plopped onto their arms and faces. They'd only just made it to the stables when the skies opened and water poured down. Rushing streams formed between the hills around them.
It became an argument.
"We can ride in the rain," Katsa said. They stood in the stables, the inn ten steps away but invisible through a wall of water.
"At the risk of the horses," Giddon said. "At the risk of catching our deaths. Don't be foolish, Katsa."
"It's only water," she said.
"Tell that to a drowning man," Giddon said. He glared down at her, and she glared back. A raindrop from a crack in the roof splashed onto her nose, and she wiped at it furiously.
"My Lady," Oll said. "My Lord."
Katsa took a deep breath, looked into his patient face, and prepared herself for disappointment.
"We don't know how long the storm will last," Oll said. "If it lasts a day, we'd best not be in it. There's no reason to ride in such weather – " He held up his hand as Katsa started to speak. "No reason we could give to the king without him thinking us mad. But perhaps it'll only last an hour. In which case, we'll only have lost an hour."
Katsa crossed her arms and forced herself to breathe. "It doesn't look like the kind of storm that lasts an hour."
"Then I'll inform the innkeeper we're in need of food," Oll said, "and rooms for the night."
The inn was some distance from any of the Middluns hill towns, but still, in summer, it had decent custom from merchants and travelers. It was a simple square structure, with kitchen and eating room below, and two floors of rooms above. Plain, but neat and serviceable. Katsa would have preferred no fuss to have been made over their presence. But of course the inn was unaccustomed to housing royalty, and the entire family threw itself into a dither in an attempt to make the king's niece, the king's underlord, and the king's captain comfortable. Against Katsa's protests a visiting merchant was moved from his room so that she might have the view from his window, a view invisible now but which she imagined could only be of the same hills they'd been looking at for days.
Katsa wanted to apologize to the merchant for uprooting him. She sent Oll to do so at the midday meal. When Oll directed the man's attention to Katsa's table, she raised her cup to him. He raised his cup back and nodded his head vigorously, his face white and his eyes wide as plates.
"When you send Oll to speak for you, you do seem so dreadfully superior, Your Ladyship," Giddon said, smiling around his mouthful of stew.
Katsa didn't answer. He knew perfectly well why she'd sent Oll. If the man was like most people, it would frighten him to be approached by the lady herself.
The child who served them was painfully shy. She spoke no words, just nodded or shook her head in response to their requests. Unlike most, she seemed unable to keep her eyes away from Katsa's face. Even when the handsome Lord Giddon addressed her, her eyes slid to Katsa's.
"The girl thinks I'll eat her," Katsa said.
"I think not," Oll said. "Her father's a friend to the Council. It's possible you're spoken of differently in this household than you are in others, My Lady."
"She'll still have heard the stories," Katsa said.
"Possibly" Oll said. "But I think she's fascinated by you." Giddon laughed. "You do fascinate, Katsa." When the girl came around again, he asked her name.
"Lanie," she whispered, and her eyes flicked to Katsa's once again.
"Do you see our Lady Katsa, Lanie?" Giddon asked. The girl nodded.
"Does she frighten you?" Giddon asked.
The girl bit her lip and didn't answer.
"She wouldn't hurt you," Giddon said. "Do you understand that? But if someone else were to hurt you, Lady Katsa would likely hurt that person."
Katsa put her fork down and looked at Giddon. She hadn't expected this kindness from him.
"Do you understand?" Giddon asked the girl.
The child nodded. She peeked at Katsa.
"Perhaps you'd like to shake hands," Giddon said.
The girl paused. Then she leaned and held her hand out to Katsa. Something welled up inside Katsa, something she couldn't quite name. A sort of sad gladness at this little creature who wanted to touch her. Katsa reached her hand out and took the child's thin fingers. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lanie."
Lanie's eyes grew wide, and then she dropped Katsa's hand and ran to the kitchen. Oll and Giddon laughed.
Katsa turned to Giddon. "I'm very grateful."
"You do nothing to dispel your ogreish reputation," Giddon said. "You know that, Katsa. It's no wonder you haven't more friends."
How like him. It was just like him, to turn a kind gesture into one of his criticisms of her character. He loved nothing more than to point out her flaws. And he knew nothing of her, if he thought she desired friends.
Katsa attacked her meal and ignored their conversation.
The rain didn't stop. Giddon and Oll were content to sit in the main room and talk with the merchants and the innkeeper, but Katsa thought the inactivity would set her screaming. She went out to the stables, only to frighten a boy, little bigger than Lanie, who stood on a stool in one of the stalls and brushed down a horse. Her horse, she saw, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
"I didn't mean to startle you," Katsa said. "I'm only looking for a space to practice my exercises."
The boy climbed from his stool and fled. Katsa threw her hands into the air. Well, at least she had the stable to herself now. She moved bales of hay, saddles, and rakes to clear a place across from the stalls and began a series of kicks and strikes. She twisted and flipped, conscious of the air, the floor, the walls around her, the horses. She focused on her imaginary opponents, and her mind calmed.