Bitterblue

name, then we must have a name for you.'

'Call me whatever you like.'

'Hear that, Saf?' Teddy said, leaning across Bitterblue, his face brightening. 'A word challenge. But how shall we proceed, when we know neither what she does for her bread nor what she looks like under that hood?'

'She's part Lienid,' Saf said, not taking his eyes off the fabler.

'Is she? You've seen?' Teddy asked, impressed, stooping, and trying, unsuccessfully, to get a better look at Bitterblue's face. 'Well then, we should give her a color name. What about Redgreenyellow?'

'That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. It makes her sound like a pepper.'

'Well, what about Grayhood?'

'First of all, her hood is blue, and secondly, she's not a grandmother. I doubt she's more than sixteen.'

Bitterblue was tired of Teddy and Saf crushing her between them, having a whispered conversation about her, practically in her face. 'I'm as old as both of you,' she said, even though she suspected she wasn't, 'and I'm smarter, and I can probably fight as well as you can.'

'Her personality is not gray,' Saf said.

'Indeed,' Teddy said. 'She's all sparks.'

'How about Sparks, then?'

'Perfect. So, you're curious about my book of words, Sparks?'

The absurdity of the name tickled, flummoxed, and annoyed her all at once; she wished she hadn't given them free rein to choose, but she had, so there was no use complaining. 'I am.'

'Well, I suppose it'd be more accurate to say it's a book about words. It's called a dictionary. Very few have ever been attempted. The idea is to set down a list of words and then write a definition for each word. Spark,' he said grandly. 'A small bit of fire, as in, 'A stray spark burst from the oven and ignited the curtains.' You see, Sparks? A person reading my dictionary will be able to learn the meanings of all the words there are.'

'Yes,' Bitterblue said, 'I've heard of such books. Except that if it uses words to define words, then don't you already need to know the definitions of words in order to understand it?'

Saf seemed to be expanding with glee. 'With one stroke,' he said, 'Sparks fells Teddren's blasted book of words.'

'Yes, all right,' Teddy said, in the forbearing tone of one who's had to hold up his side of this argument before. 'In the abstract, that's true. But in practice, I'm certain it'll be quite useful, and I mean it to be the most thorough dictionary ever written. I'm also writing a book of truths.'

'Teddy,' said Saf, 'go get the next round.'

'Sapphire told me you saw him steal,' continued Teddy to Bitterblue, unconcerned. 'You mustn't misunderstand. He only steals back that which has already been—'

Now Saf's fist grabbed Teddy's collar and Teddy choked over his words. Saf said nothing, only stood there, holding Teddy at his throat, looking daggers into Teddy's eyes.

'—stolen,' spluttered Teddy. 'Perhaps I'll go get the next round.'

'I could kill him,' Saf said, watching Teddy go. 'I think I will later.'

'What did he mean, you only steal that which has already been stolen?'

'Let's talk about your thievery instead, Sparks,' said Saf. 'Do you steal from the queen, or only poor sods trying to have a drink?'

'What about you? Do you steal both on land and on sea?'

This made Saf laugh, quietly, which was a thing Bitterblue had never seen him do before. She was rather proud of herself. He nursed his drink, ran his eyes over the room, and took his time answering.

'I was raised on a Lienid ship by Lienid sailors,' he admitted finally. 'I'm about as likely to steal from a sailor as I am to put a nail in my head. My true family is Monsean, and a few months ago I came here to spend some time with my sister. I met Teddy, who offered me a job in his printing shop, which is good work, until I get the urge for leaving again. There. You've had my story.'

'Great chunks of it are missing,' said Bitterblue. 'Why were you raised on a Lienid ship if you're Monsean?'

'All of yours is missing,' said Saf, 'and I don't trade my secrets for nothing. If you recognize me for a sailor, then you've spent some time working on a ship.'

'Maybe,' said Bitterblue testily.

'Maybe?' said Saf, amused. 'What do you do in Bitterblue's castle?'

'I bake bread in the kitchens,' she said, hoping he wouldn't ask any specifics about those kitchens, because she couldn't remember ever seeing them.

'And is it your mother who's Lienid, or your father?'

'My mother.'

'And does she work with you?'

'She does fine needlework for the queen. Embroidery.'

'Do you see much of her?'

'Not when we're working, but we live in the same rooms. We see each other every night and morning.'

Bitterblue stopped, suddenly needing to catch her breath. It seemed to her a beautiful daydream, one that could easily be true. Perhaps there was a baker girl in the castle with a mother who was alive, touching her, every day, with thoughts, seeing her every night. 'My father was a traveling Monsean fabler,' she continued. 'One summer he went to Lienid to tell stories and fell in love with my mother. He brought her here to live. He was killed in an accident with a dagger.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Saf said.

'It was years ago,' Bitterblue said breathlessly.

'And why does a baker girl sneak out at night to steal drink money? A bit dangerous, isn't it?'

She suspected that the question contained a reference to her size. 'Have you ever seen Lady Katsa of the Middluns?' she asked archly.

'No, but everyone knows her story, of course.'

'She's dangerous without being big as a man.'

'Fair enough, but she's a Graced fighter.'

'She's taught many of the girls in this city to fight. She taught me.'

'You've met her, then,' Saf said, clapping his cup down onto the ledge and turning to her, all bright-eyed attention. 'Have you met Prince Po too?'

'He's in the castle sometimes,' Bitterblue said with a vague flap of her hand. 'My point is, I'm able to defend myself.'

'I'd pay to watch either of them fight,' he said. 'I'd give gold to watch them fight each other.'

'Your own gold? Or someone else's? I think you're a Graced thief.'

Saf seemed to enjoy this accusation immensely. 'I'm not a Graced thief,' he said, grinning. 'Nor am I a Graced mind reader, but I know why you sneak out at nights. You can't get enough of the stories.'

Yes. She couldn't get enough of the stories. Or of these exchanges with Teddy and Saf, for they were the same as the stories, the same as the midnight streets and alleys and graveyards, the smell of smoke and cider, the crumbling buildings. The monstrous bridges, reaching up into the sky, that Leck had built for no reason.

The more I see and hear, the more I realize how much I don't know.

I want to know everything.

5

THE ATTACK IN the story room two nights later took her completely by surprise.

Even in the moments afterwards Bitterblue was unaware of it having happened, and wondered why Saf had pushed in front of her protectively, clutching at the arm of a hooded man, and why Teddy was leaning on Saf looking vague and ill. The entire struggle was so silent and the movements so furiously controlled that when the hooded